#i had meant to do this and have the next chapter be the end/return of simon and prompt r18 for happiness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rking200 · 4 months

Text

Choices and Disasters

Simon and Josh bicker within the elevator while they await Markus and North to call them up. In the hallway to the broadcast room, fear grips Markus as he sets out to ruse the guards, which leads to Simon getting shot. The speech must go on and the plan continues. A hostage escapes and a SWAT raid ensues. Simon is unfortunately victim to their rounds, but Markus comes to his aid. Up on the roof, Markus must make a choice and live with its consequences.

4k words, chapter two of a three four chapter SimonxMarkus angst/hurt-comfort/R18 fic. Chapter one can be found here. This would be the start of angst, which will overflow into the next chapter. Then R18, if plans don't change (again). Will be posted to AO3 upon completion.

「Everything okay?」

Simon hated that Josh knew him so well. He had only just gotten into the elevator, and now he was locked in this cage with Josh until Markus called it up to their destination. He tried to figure out what to tell Josh and what wasn't important to share in this moment, but the deafening silence after Josh's question must've been too much for him. With a hand placed on Simon's shoulder, Josh spoke again to Simon, worry dripping from his words. 「Are you alright.」 It wasn't a question at all, but it felt nice for Josh to be so worried about him, if he was being honest. He let too much time pass a second time, and was quick to open his mouth once Josh squeezed his shoulder. 「I'm fine, Josh.」 He glanced over at Josh, who didn't even budge. His eyes were seeking some tidbit of information Simon was keeping from him and Simon--against his better judgement--had to look away. 「I promise.」 He knew that Josh wasn't about to buy his half baked promise, as his weary eyes and closed posture didn't exactly scream 'you can trust my words at face value'. Josh huffed, squeezing Simon for a prolonged moment. Simon knew what he was conveying with it: that he cared about him and just wanted to know what was on his mind. 「We can talk about it later. Now's not the time.」 Unfortunately, this didn't satiate Josh and only proved to irritate him further. His hand was quickly taken from Simon's shoulder, exasperatedly thrown into the air before jerkily resting at his sides.

「Simon, what's going on with you recently? You're not acting yourself.」 Strange, Simon thought. He felt like he was more himself now than ever: shy and an anxious mess. What exactly was Josh insinuating? 「If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine, but pushing me away isn't going to do you any good either. And if you didn't like the plan, you should have spoken up. I can't be the only one.」「It's not like that, it's just...Markus.」 Simon cast his eyes to the side, consequently turning his face so that Josh could fully see his LED, blinking yellow. Simon hoped that Josh would just understand that there was some sort of romantic attachment to his words so that he didn't have to outright explain what had happened in the bathroom stall. He shook his head, begging the memories and feelings not to resurface.

「Yeah, I get it.」 Simon quickly looked over at Josh, processing his words. 「He shows up in Jericho and then thinks he can run the place? Tell us all what to do, putting us in danger with no remorse?」 Simon stared at him, his mouth moving but no words coming out. He shook his head, gluing his eyes to the floor as he concentrated on something to say. 「He expects everyone to fall in line and follow his word. How do we even know if he has our best interests at heart?」

「No, that's not it at all.」 Simon closed his eyes tight, shaking his head a few times. 「Markus wants to help us.」

「Help us?! You're following him blindly! I used to be able to trust your direction but I can't anymore. You're doing what he wants and not what's best for our people.」

"Markus wants us to be free." Simon's gritted teeth steeled the nasty words he had wanted to say, but Josh wasn't going to back down at the slightest bit of pushback. "Yeah, and he'll kill as many of us as possible to try to achieve that. We can't put all our stock in one man, someone we don't even know!" Simon turned to face Josh, his lips a thin line and his eyes threatening to overflow with emotions. "At least he's doing something!" Josh's eyes betrayed his shock in Simon's outburst, and he opened his mouth to say something in retort, but found himself interrupted as the elevator lurched. Simon's anger didn't subside, but his anxiety now flared along with it. Hopefully it was Markus, and they were now beginning the last leg of their plan. It wasn't often that Simon raised his voice, and he found it difficult to control his clenched fists and his furrowed brow. Yelling at Josh didn't make him feel any better: he knew it wouldn't change his mind and he also knew he'd have to talk about that outburst again, in private when they got back to Jericho. He wasn't looking forward to it, and Simon found himself even more reluctant to share the events that had transpired with Josh.

His hands trembled around the cool metal of the round explosive, another item that hadn't ended up in his hands by chance. But Markus cared for him in some compacity. Personally cared for him. He couldn't afford to assume Markus saw him as expendable at this rate, as he had before their rendezvous in the bathrooms. Especially with Josh's push-back, he had to hold faith in Markus and in his plan.

Markus was simultaneously put at ease and back on edge at the opening of the elevator door. He watched Simon carefully, reaching to take the device from him and focusing on his furrowed eyebrows. He looked angry, and Markus hadn't really seen him like this before. He wondered what had happened between now and the last time he saw him, but decided not to press further as he glanced at Josh, who was also visibly upset.

If something had gone wrong, they would have said something. This had nothing to do with the plan, and that was what they had to focus on. Maybe if the tension was still palatable between the two when they got back to Jericho, Markus might mention it. He had other things he had to discuss privately with Simon, however, and his fight with Josh might just fall a little lower on that list. His gaze caught Simon's and he softened slightly, allowing Markus to take a deep breath and focus once more on their mission. With a few words of encouragement and the help of the explosive device, they were a hallway away from their goal. North and Josh resumed their gentle bickering, as usual, and Markus felt the weight of their cause on his shoulders, pressing firmer than ever. "What do you wanna do, Markus?"

He met eyes with Simon. They had to deal with the guards, but it was in their best interest not to kill them. "Wait here."

Walking out into the hallway, Markus ran through the plan in his head. Get the rise on them, threaten with his gun, knock them out. No casualties. They were here to demand peace, and they had to lead by example. But something happened, and Markus couldn't explain it even if he tried. He stepped out and, upon hearing the guards' voices, he froze up. His hand twitched as he reached for his gun, but he felt absolutely frozen in place. Was this fear? The weight on his shoulders was solidifying him in place, pressing down through his shoulders and deep within his stomach. He didn't need to breathe, but he found it hard to nonetheless. The fear pressed harder still as he watched the guard reach for his phone--as he watched him call for backup. Seeing North come to his rescue wasn't what pulled him out of his fear-locked state. It was the gunshot that did that, and even then it took him a second to turn his eyes to Simon.

"Simon's been shot!" Josh was squatted down at beside Simon while North moved the knocked-out guards out of immediate view of the elevator. With the pressure slightly relieved, Markus found his footing and quickly went to Simon. He placed his hands on either shoulder, kneeling down right in front of him in an attempt to demand his gaze.

"I'm okay, I can keep going!"

Simon's words rang out only as Markus' worried glance washed over him, and Markus wished Simon hadn't immediately looked down as he spoke. His words had been rushed, slurred, and he couldn't tell if Simon was telling the truth. That alone made him briefly consider abandoning the mission entirely, but they couldn't turn back now. Furrowing his brow in concentration, he looked over Simon's wound and scanned him for his status. He wasn't stable, nor was his shut-down imminent. He would be alright as long as they got out of there and got him some blue blood quickly. The return to Jericho would be difficult with a wound, but as long as he could walk they shouldn't have any problem getting him there. He hurriedly helped Simon stand up, and he was quick to glance at him, connecting to mentally ask if he really was okay. He received no glance and no reply. Markus knew that he had really let Simon down, and that weighed heavier on the back of his mind than the thought that he had let his people down.

Markus placed his hand atop Simon's as he placed him to lean on the security desk, his other palm lingering as he moved it across the back of Simon's shoulders. He hoped Simon appreciated the gentle show of affection and reassurance. He removed himself from Simon's side, taking a step away and cautiously watching him sway even with his hands planted firmly on the sturdy desk. He paused, probably to North's irritation, waiting for Simon to gain his bearings. Simon turned and swayed again as he did so, his weight unbalanced and shifting over to the hurt side. He was losing blue blood, but his LED shone a comforting yellow, which meant he was relatively stable, but they had to hurry. Markus didn't have any more time to waste. Gripping his gun tightly in his hand and moving quickly down the hallway, Markus prepared to press the button to ring the door to the broadcasting room. He glanced around at his comrades, his eyes briefly meeting Simon's as he looked over his shoulder at him.

The furrow of his brow didn't suit his soft features, nor did the burning something in his eyes. Markus assumed it was resentment, but maybe hatred. He couldn't tell, and Simon would never give him any answer.

With a gentle nod to his team, he pressed the button. The irony of seeing Josh raising a gun against a human wasn't lost on Markus, but he had more important things to do than dwell on it. He ordered the operators aside, watching their planted deviant blink yellow as he did so. A nod from Markus was all it took for the JB300 to shine blue, and he looked forward to thanking him personally for his role in all of this. Markus hadn't been looking when the human shoved Josh to the ground and evaded North's grasp, but he was quick to turn on his heel and raise his gun to their escaped hostage. The man fell as he desperately tried to escape, and although Markus had hoped he would see the gun trained on him and stay down, but he got back up and scurried along further still.

"Shoot him, Markus!" "No, don't kill him!" "He'll hit the alarm--do it!" "No, don't shoot!!"

Markus had meant to make a choice, but he paused too long as he awaited Simon's opinion that he missed his chance before he had even realized. Watching the doors close after the human's retreating form, Markus focused his eyes on his gun before letting it fall to his side. Exasperated, he tried to compose himself before turning around to his three companions. "Hope you didn't just get us all killed."

Markus shot North a pointed glance before settling his eyes on Simon. They held the other's eye contact for a moment, something stirring within Simon that Markus wished he would just say aloud. Is this what he had wanted, to follow the plan to a T? No killing humans, even if it put the rest of their plan--the most important part--in danger? Or was Simon disappointed in him for his choice, or lack thereof?

He made his way to the middle of the room, standing in front of Josh and removing his Stratford hat. He held the brim in his hands for a moment before giving it a toss. The act of flinging the hat proved to calm Markus' heightened nerves every so slightly, but North interrupted his moment of contentment and approached him, demanding his eyes, his attention.

"Think carefully about what you're going to say, Markus. Your words will shape the future of our people."

He already knew the words he was going to say, they had been mulling in his head idly from the moment the plan had started to form. Maybe North had meant to calm him with her words, but they just put him more on edge. Who was he to be the public figurehead for their people as a whole? Was he responsible enough to hold that power in his hands, after getting someone so close to him shot because of some simple fear weighing him down?

But, Markus had a speech to give, so he calmed himself and was prepared to tell Josh he was ready when Simon's voice rang out, muffled and pained. "Markus, your face."

Hearing him speak with such a tone in his voice sent a pang of regret through Markus, but he pushed it down to focus on getting out of here as soon as possible. He glanced at Simon, his eyes settling on the blue blood upon his lips before he quickly looked away. How could he forget something so important? He tried to take North's words to heart and thought over his speech once again as he removed his skin, gently telling Josh he was ready. Markus calmly spoke of peace to the humans. He spoke of their demands for equal rights and the need for justice against android-targeted crimes, as well as the abolishment of their slavery and segregation. Jericho was no home, it had just been a place of refuge and it always would be, and he wanted nothing more than to see his people living happy lives in houses their owned, in houses they worked to maintain. So, their demands were rounded out by their need for places to live, thrive and be free. Markus didn't like to use the word "ask", given the circumstances, but found himself ending his speech with it, anyway. It was more important to end on a note of peace than to fight with the semantics, but he was sure that the humans would feel the brooding storm of revolution under his peaceful words either way.

Markus had only barely finished his speech when Simon's voice rang out, warning them of the incoming raid. Simon and Markus were in the most vulnerable position, and with Simon's wound he was in even more peril. Simon was fast, even when hurt, but the rifles the SWAT team entered with were faster. Markus watched helplessly as Simon was caught in the fire. Keeping behind the center console he watched Simon try to crawl to a safer place, and Markus hadn't meant to repeat the very obvious words of "they're coming", but they left his mouth in the panic of the moment. It was as Simon replied, simply and without emotion telling Markus to leave him behind, that he realized how badly Simon had been shot. His eyes darted to the hole in the center of Simon's chest--too high to have hit his pump regulator, and on the wrong side to have hit his actual thirium pump...but it was a bad wound. There wasn't even a second of hesitation. He was sure Simon hated that he disregarded his words so quickly and so incredibly easily, but he wasn't about to leave him behind. He grabbed him as North and Josh attempted to give them the cover fire they needed to safely retreat onto the roof. With Simon's arm slung over his shoulder and his hand grabbing his tightly, he forced Simon to put his weight into him, pulling him along the wall and attempting to not get either of them shot down in the process. Simon's legs weren't working correctly, and the dead weight was tough to combat in the moment, but they made it to the stairwell. He pulled Simon along, with no intent to hurt him in the process but no consideration against it due to the severity of the situation. He released his grip on Simon and watched as he immediately fell, scrambling to place his back against something for support.

The fear once again washed over him as he got down to Simon's level, eyeing the leg that he watched give way beneath him--the one that he felt be dead weight while he was pulling him to the stairway. Simon confirmed what Markus already knew: he couldn't move it. Either of them. He watched the panic in Simon's eyes, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing.

This wasn't going to work.

"Okay, don't worry." Markus' words deliberately went against what he was thinking in an attempt to ease the panic in Simon's eyes. "We're going to get you back." He couldn't say it while holding eye contact, and he knew avoiding Simon's gaze was the worst thing he could do in the moment, but he couldn't lie directly to him like that. The simple act of looking away nullified the words and any comfort Simon might have been able to find in them.

"They're coming, Markus. We have to jump now."

Markus knew they didn't have much time, and her reiterating it only made him feel himself spiraling more. He stood, quickly taking a few steps away from his companion and leaving him to join the huddle with Josh and North. There was no doubt that Simon heard the exasperated sigh as he moved away, but he only hoped he understood that it was the situation that he was upset with, not him. He felt a pang of remorse as he realized that no, he should be upset with himself. He had been the one who got Simon shot in the first place, and without that first wound throwing him off his balance, he would've been able to sprint to safety that much faster. North and Josh turned their backs to Simon, but Markus wasn't about to cut him out of their huddle. He kept his eyes trained on Simon as Josh and North reinforced how horrible the situation was, chancing to look at them but always returning his gaze to Simon. He caught his eye for just a moment and leaned, fully tilting his head to try to keep it as Simon quickly looked back down at his legs. He couldn't dwell on the despair he had seen for just that moment, but he knew it was something he wouldn't soon forget. Perhaps it was that fear again that made him side with North. In the moment, she was right. He had to shoot Simon to stop the humans from finding out where Jericho was. North claimed that it was up to him, and his eyes sought out Simon to hear his opinion on the matter. Yet there wasn't an opinion for him to give, as he was on the outside of the situation at hand. He was just a liability in this circumstance, and had it been the JB300 operator Markus knew that he would do what had to be done for the sake of their cause.

With a deep breath and a sideways glance to North, Markus stepped away from their huddle and in front of Simon. He looked down at him and did his best to ignored the pang in his chest as Simon didn't return his gaze. He watched Simon staring off, unfocused, for a moment before raising his gun to him. Maybe it'd be better, he thought, if he didn't look at me with those eyes of his.

"I'm sorry, Simon." Markus immediately regretted saying his name as Simon raised his gaze to him, looking past the gun and deep into his soul. "I don't have a choice." The words were more of a justification for himself than for Simon, but Simon's reply caught him off guard nonetheless.

"There is always a choice."

His voice came through clearer than Markus was ready to hear. Simon had spoke tiredly, with clear effort not to slur or waver under Markus. He kept his eyes and his gun trained on Simon, his hand wavering under Simon's gaze. There was no anger, no hatred or disappointment. Markus wished there would have been because it would have made pulling the trigger that much easier to do.

Instead, Markus became lost in their pleading. The snow flitted between them, slowly falling as time seemed to come to a damn near halt. He wished Simon would just tell him what to do--both options felt like the wrong choice for vastly different reasons. He scanned Simon's face for a hint of something, but fear was all he could read from him. It lingered in his eyes, danced upon his brow and reflected from the leaking blue blood on his lips.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting himself fall back into the moment they had shared with one another. He had been so taken aback by the interest he had perceived in Simon when he was changing. He hadn't meant to act without much thought, but years of watching soap operas with Carl must have really done a number on him. He recalled the touch of their bare lips against each other and he felt the immobilizing fear melt away. Despair took its place, and along with it: love.

Markus' ears tuned back into the world around them, the thuds of the SWAT team trying to brute-force the lock on the roof door meant that they didn't have any more time to think. He let out a held breath, shaking his head and watching as Simon relaxed, ready for him to shoot.

"I won't kill one of our own." Markus caught Simon's eyes as he opened them, but the pleading and the fear were still all that he could see. Holding the gun by its barrel, he held it out for Simon to take. They shared some kind of exchange, their eyes locking fleetingly before Markus had to turn. "Let's go."

「Markus...」

He really had wished Simon hadn't have spoke his name directly, so faint and weak. The voice that echoed through his mind was nothing like the one that spoke a moment ago. It was pitiful, pleading to not be left behind, begging to be dragged along but hesitant to put anyone else in danger for his desires. Markus knew that if anything were to haunt him, it would be the wavering thought of his name as he left Simon alone to deal with an impossible foe on this forsaken tower. Strapping his parachute on, he chanced glancing back at Simon to see that he had moved, watching as he attempted to stand and whisk himself away to hide in a safer area of the roof. He didn't have much time to mourn the hopelessness of the act, as the SWAT team broke through. They had run out of time. Racing to the edge of the roof to jump led to no causalities, even with the team shooting at them from such a close range. If they had tried to shoot their parachutes down, they had failed spectacularly.

The wind took them into its arms, safely carrying them forward as the snow storm obscured them from their pursuers.

The act of flying would have been invigorating had Markus' mind been clear. Instead, the wind howled in his ears, the snow stung his face and the feeling that he had forgotten something--somebody--very important atop the Stratford Tower jolted every nerve in his body.

7 notes · View notes

whytheylosttheirminds · 5 months

Text

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

1K notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 2 months

Text

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iv

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 11.3k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions (you might laugh, you might cry, and you might just wanna punch something after this chapter), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecation in some aspect, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: So, elephant in the room....how did this get past 11k when other chapters are significantly shorter? Well...I had ideas? I'm sorry!! 🫠 ANYWAY more angst in this chapter. Sorry not sorry for what you will consume here. I honestly love this chapter so much though! Okay, I won't say any more bc spoilers are cool but not in my fic! (hehe) Enjoy! 🥰

series masterlist | next >>

Numb.

It’s the only word you can rummage up to describe the sudden shift in your demeanor. You’d think one’s typical response to their ex-husband’s drunken confession would be one of confusion, anger, hurt, or the like.

But you’ve gone stone cold instead, barely able to feel the steaming hot water that kisses your skin from within the tub. The room seems to have become a bit of a haze too, your vision blurring as you grip your cell phone in your hand.

The absurdity of it all—the man who handed you divorce papers now professing his love—feels like a cruel joke. The sheer impossibility of the situation is almost laughable, yet you can't even bring yourself to do that at this point. You've exhausted all of your emotional resources.

You’re unsure how many seconds pass before his voice calls your name again.

“__? Are you still there?” His voice is a muffled echo in your mind. It sounds so far away, though you know he’s right here on the other end of the line.

"Honestly Jungkook…I don’t know what you expect me to say.” The words come out slow, measured, and almost emotionless.

There's a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, cracking under the weight of his confession. "I guess—I'm not sure either. But I just needed you to know. I needed to tell you everything."

“You're drunk. You realize that, right?"

“I had a few beers, yeah," he admits. "Maybe I'm a little tipsy. But it doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you lately. I miss you, __, a lot."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re back in the past, back when those words would have meant the world to you. But now, they feel hollow, devoid of the warmth they once carried. And how can they not? You tethered yourself to your ex-husband for three years, learned his patterns, became acquainted with his needs, and danced with his indifference. In the end, the result is always the same, and this time is no different. By morning, he'll likely forget everything he's ever said to you and return to his normal habits.

You take a deep breath, your head resting on the cool porcelain tub, and close your eyes. "I can’t do this," you say quietly. "Not now."

"It's late. I understand-"

"No," you interrupt, voice firmer, "you don't understand, Jungkook. You don't understand me and you never have. I'm hanging up now."

"Please don't. I know I've hurt-"

"Stop. Do you know how patronizing that sounds to me? Please don't call this number again."

"But... I love you, __," his voice is barely a whisper. "Do you not love me anymore?"

"Goodbye, Jungkook." You end the call before another word can drop from his lips, or yours for that matter. It's time you accept that you are never more than an impulsive decision, a temporary solution, and an item on his agenda. Tonight's conversation solidifies that for you.

Despite being sleep-deprived the next morning, you refuse to let fatigue keep you from fulfilling your promise to visit Taehyung at the hospital. You've been anxious about him all night, tossing and turning without respite. The weight of your ex-husband's drunken confession added to your restlessness as well. Nevertheless, you push it out of your mind as you bound out the front door.

Upon arrival, you are greeted by an abundance of flowers, cards, and thoughtful gifts scattered around Taehyung’s hospital room. One bouquet on the windowsill catches your attention in particular—its familiar scent of lavender is instantly recognizable.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind you. You turn to see Dr. Min entering the room, Taehyung’s chart in hand. He seems more lively than last night, his expression noticeably brighter with a faint smile on his lips.

“Yes, they’re lovely,” you reply. “I’m guessing these are from Taehyung’s fans and colleagues?”

He nods. “Indeed. Lavender is a calming scent. It’s no wonder people chose it for him.” The corners of his mouth lift slightly before he continues, “My girlfriend loves it too. She says it helps her relax after a long day.”

The comment is unexpected yet sweet. You notice the suppressed grin and the warmth in his eyes easily, signaling his deep affection for her. You wonder how it must feel to love someone so purely and without restraint. Before the thought lingers, your gaze shifts involuntarily to the man on the hospital bed, still asleep. Though the bandages are gone and his breathing is stable, your concern deepens as you take in his nearly still form.

“How’s he doing?” you ask, moving closer to his bed. Your heart tightens with each step as the cuts and burns on his face become more visible.

“He’s lucky,” Dr. Min says, walking to the opposite side of the bed, his tone growing serious. “He has multiple rib fractures, a mild concussion, and a few burns, but it could have been worse. Taehyung is stable now, and we’re monitoring his progress closely.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“His face burns are only second-degree, so they should heal in a couple of weeks. The concussion should also resolve with ample rest and by avoiding strenuous activity—both physical and mental.”

“Which means he won’t be able to act for a while?” you ask, reading between the lines.

“Afraid not,” Dr. Min dismisses the idea. “Hopefully, his projects can accommodate his absence.”

“What about his rib fractures? I imagine those will require the most attention.” You feel like you might be asking too many questions, knowing Dr. Min will likely need to repeat everything to Taehyung later, but you can't hold back. After all, you made a promise to yourself last night that you'd ensure he'd be alright.

“Yes," Dr. Min answers carefully, "they could take up to three months to fully heal. We recommend applying ice for 20 minutes at a time, several times a day. As long as he remains stable over the next few days, he can be discharged to continue his recovery at home." He pauses, allowing you to process the information before continuing. "It's crucial that he rests. Even if he feels bursts of energy, he needs to let his body heal. Light activities like breathing exercises and short walks are fine, but he should avoid intense exercises until we give the all-clear.”

You nod thoughtfully, absorbing Dr. Min’s detailed prognosis. Taehyung’s condition sounds serious but manageable. After such a traumatic accident, it's clear he'll need months to heal. Getting him to adhere to the doctor's orders will be challenging, given his profession and active social calendar. However, if you need to be the one to remind him, you will.

“I’ll make sure he follows your recommendations,” you assure Dr. Min, your voice tinged with concern.

“I have no doubt,” Dr. Min replies with a reassuring smile. “You know, you're the first person who’s shown up for him both last night and today. Aside from that young man who came in briefly. Namjoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, the revelation catching you off guard. “He works as my secretary but he's also a good friend of Taehyung's. His family really hasn’t come in yet?” You circle back to Dr. Min's first point with a sense of urgency.

You wouldn't normally be this insistent on the matter; however, past conversations with Taehyung have revealed how much he cherishes his family, often sharing stories about their reunions with warmth and enthusiasm. With such a loving family, you’re taken aback that they haven’t shown up yet. Then again, his accident was sudden, and there could be various reasons for their delay. Do they even know about his accident, for that matter?

“They called, of course, but you’re the first to actually come in,” Dr. Min clarifies, his gaze thoughtful as he responds to your concern. "You must be quite an attentive boss to show this level of care for your colleague."

There's an underlying suggestiveness laced in his tone, but you're quick to brush it off, redirecting the focus to Taehyung’s condition. “It’s the least I can do, given what he’s going through,” you say, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “He’s a valuable member of our team, and I want to make sure he gets back on his feet as soon as possible.”

Dr. Min's eyes twinkle, as if holding back further commentary. “Even from a professional standpoint, not everyone would go to such lengths for a coworker. He’s fortunate to have you.”

You feel a slight flush as his subtle implications continue. “Well, I just…care about his well-being. Besides,” you glance back at Taehyung, your expression softening more than you intend, “I know he'd do the same for me.”

For a few short breaths, Dr. Min remains silent as your attention remains fixed on your colleague. “I need to check on a few other patients so I’ll leave you two alone for now," he finally says, breaking the silence. “I'll be back to check in on him again later, but if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime, the nurse is nearby."

With a nod and a soft "thank you," you watch Dr. Min exit the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung once more. After settling into a chair beside his bed, you silently observe the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic sound of his breathing is a small comfort amidst his vulnerable state. Despite everything, you're glad he's going to be okay.

As each minute passes, nurses come and go, and the hum of activity outside the room gradually fades into a background murmur. You had only planned to stay for an hour this morning, but time seems to slip away as the clock now nears 1 p.m. You had hoped Taehyung would be awake by now, but he remains still.

After a brief sigh, the thought occurs to you that you don't have to spend so many hours here, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. It's the weekend, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing instead. Dr. Min could easily call you the moment Taehyung wakes up. But something in your conscience urges you not to leave. Just give it another hour, you think. If he isn’t awake by then, you can come back tomorrow.

Suddenly, a slight movement catches your eye. Taehyung's fingers twitch, and his eyelids flutter. You nearly missed it with how lost you were in your thoughts.

Leaning forward with nervous relief, you softly call his name. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly, his eyes blink open. He turns his head slightly, gaze eventually finding yours, and you feel momentarily transfixed. It's unlike you to respond this way, but you had forgotten how piercing and comforting his eyes could be. A genuine smile immediately spreads across his face once your eyes meet, though not as boxy as usual due to his condition. Nevertheless, it's encouraging to see him awake and responsive.

“Hi," his voice is strained but recognizable. "It's...nice to see you."

“The feeling's mutual,” you respond gently. “How are you feeling?”

He shifts slightly, wincing a bit. “Like I got hit by a truck,” he mutters. “I’m sore all over.”

“You had a close call, but you’re in good hands now. Your doctor, Dr. Min, says you'll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while. He was here earlier this morning, but he'll check in with you again soon.”

"You..." He hesitates, surprise flickering in his eyes. "You've been here since morning? What time is it now?"

"Oh, uh, it's around 1 in the afternoon," you say, gradually realizing the weight of your words. You consider whether or not to tell him the full extent of your stay. “I got here a few hours ago. Don’t worry.”

Taehyung nods slightly, a mix of gratitude and concern evident in his expression. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs. “I wasn't sure if I'd be alone.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest at his words, your throat tightening. Before you can ask what he means, he continues, “I must have taken a lot of your weekend from you.” His tone is apologetic, and your heart aches. Here he is, lying on a hospital bed, in pain and vulnerable, and he’s worried about inconveniencing you.

“I'm glad to be here,” you reassure gently. “I promise, you’re not alone. A lot of people care about you.”

Taehyung glances around, taking in the gifts and flowers scattered throughout the room. “From my fans, I’m guessing?” he asks, attempting to keep his tone light.

“And your colleagues too,” you reply. “We all want to see you get better." Taehyung returns his gaze to you, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Neither of you says anything, which unsettles you.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, the question coming out more hurriedly than intended.

“I drifted in and out for most of the night. It’s hard to get comfortable,” he admits, "I think I could still hear a lot around me. It felt like someone was holding my hand for a few minutes too, but I’m not sure how much of it was real or just dreams, though.”

Oh shit. You weren't expecting that answer.

The possibility that Taehyung might have heard you talking to him last night shouldn't be that embarrassing, yet your mind races with thoughts of what he might have heard or understood in his semi-conscious state. Not only did you share more than you probably should have, but you also touched his hand to feel his pulse, and he felt it.

“Well, um, I'm sorry to hear you had a rough night. You should rest more,” you suggest, trying to compose yourself. "I should get going anyway and let you sleep.” You begin standing from your seat but don't get far before the gentlest of touches brush against your wrist. When you look at Taehyung, he quickly retracts his fingers, concerned he overstepped.

"Shit, I'm sorry, __. I didn't mean to grab at you like that," he says softly. "It's just...would you mind staying with me a little longer, please? I'd really appreciate the company."

You can hear the yearning in his request. It's clear that he doesn't want to be alone, and you don't blame him, especially after the accident he's endured. Settling back into the chair, you agree to stay a bit longer, perhaps another half hour, before heading home; you realize you haven't eaten lunch yet.

"So, how are you doing?" he asks. "We haven't talked in bit."

His question triggers a flood of thoughts, the most recent interaction with your ex-husband being one of them. Up until now, you've managed to push his drunken call out of your mind, preferring to focus on Taehyung instead. However, Jungkook's unexpected confession still throws you for a loop. It's not that you're riddled with the need for clarity on its validity, especially since you don't believe him anyway. How could he claim to love you when he also admits he doesn't understand his own feelings? On top of that, being drunk while doing so—it doesn't make sense.

No, the real question now is what happens next. How do you proceed? Will he try to reach out again? The way he asked if you still loved him before you ended the call weighs on your mind even now.

You know you'll need to discuss this with Melody during your next therapy session.

Before you spiral further, you decide to steer the conversation away from personal matters and opt for a safer topic.

"The company is doing well," you reply with a smile. "The new campaigns we've put out recently have been pretty successful. Although," you add, a hint of curiosity in your tone, "the team has missed your frequent drop-ins, especially Namjoon." If you're honest with yourself, you've missed them too.

"How is he? Namjoon?"

"He's okay, but he's been concerned for you," you answer carefully. "When we heard the news, we came to see you together, but he was quite affected. He promised to visit once you woke up."

"So," Taehyung takes a moment to process. "That was this morning, right?"

"No, actually, it was yesterday."

There's a brief, awkward silence as you sense Taehyung might be thinking the same thing you are—about your presence last night. Surprisingly, he doesn't bring it up. Instead, he eyes you curiously, biting down on his lip slightly.

"I meant to stop by last week," he admits. "But we were wrapping up the final scenes of my film shoots. The producers were eager to finish them. I'm just thankful we got them done. I wanted to spend a day riding my bike along a scenic route until... well, until all of this happened. I don't remember much, but I'm just grateful Tan wasn't with me."

"Tan?" you ask, curious now.

"Yeontan, my pomeranian," Taehyung explains with a soft smile. "He means the world to me. My parents take care of him when I'm busy with filming. I was actually planning to drive up and visit them this weekend. And, of course, bring Tan back home with me. They live pretty far from here, so it's better that I go up to them if I can."

Well, that answers the question about his parents not being here yet, you think to yourself.

As Taehyung speaks, you can see a flicker of fondness and relief in his eyes when he mentions his dog. It must have been months since he last saw him.

"I bet you miss him a lot," you comment softly, "Tan."

"I do," he admits with a slight smile, "but I know he's being well taken care of. Hopefully, I can see him soon. And my parents too."

"I understand that feeling," you reply, nodding thoughtfully. "Pets have a way of becoming family, don't they? I had a cat named Evie when I was growing up. She was a feisty little thing with green eyes, always getting into mischief. We got her from the streets and she was so slim, but it didn't take her long to beef up with all the treats we gave her. Whenever I was feeling down, she would curl up next to me, as if she knew. It's funny how they have that kind of intuition, isn't it?"

Taehyung listens intently, a small smile playing on his lips. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment at your tangent. It's one of the few times you've shared something personal about yourself that wasn't work-related. Feeling like you might have overshared, you decide to stop, assuming Taehyung isn't interested in knowing that much.

You chuckle inwardly at yourself.

Jungkook was your husband for three years, and he never seemed to care about such personal details.

I—" you start, intending to apologize, but Taehyung interrupts.

"Did you have any other pets?" he asks, curiosity piqued.

You chuckle softly, reminiscing. "Yeah, we had... uh, god, you don't want to know how many pets we had."

"Try me," his eyes become playful, yet there's a seriousness behind them, like he really wants to know. It's unfamiliar.

"Alright," you chuckle, "aside from Evie, there were three other cats. Calvin and Misha were the adventurous ones, always climbing trees, while Pip was the cuddly lap cat. Then there were two dogs: Toby, our sneaky Chihuahua, and Bella, a terrier who growled at everyone. Oh, and we had three rabbits too. Cute, but also feisty."

Taehyung laughs, "I sense a theme going on."

"What theme?"

"Well," he grins, "It seems like your household was filled with some strong main characters."

You chuckle at his joke. "Yeah, our house was never quiet, that's for sure. Each one had their own personality and quirks."

"You don't have any now though? Pets, I mean," Taehyung asks.

"Sadly, I don't," you reply with a hint of regret. "The company takes up a lot of my time, and I don't think it would be right to leave a pet alone for extended periods. I might consider getting another cat, but right now, focusing on running the company leaves me with little spare time. I miss having them around though."

Taehyung mulls over your word carefully. “If I ever get out of this hospital...maybe I—”

Before he has the chance to finish, the hospital room door opens, and Dr. Min enters, his expression serious yet composed. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, not expecting to see you still here and Taehyung awake. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins, glancing between you and his patient. “It’s good to see you up and looking a bit better."

Dr. Min approaches Taehyung's side, opposite to you. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

Taehyung's demeanor shifts instantly, his playful expression fading as he turns to answer. “Pretty sore, honestly,” he replies.

Dr. Min nods. “Let’s run a few checks to see how you’re doing.”

Sensing this is your cue to leave, you rise from your chair and reach out to touch Taehyung's hand. But you stop yourself short. Something about performing the physical action while he’s fully conscious instills a flutter of nerves within you. Instead, you gently tap his shoulder, causing him to meet your eyes. “I think I'll be going now, but it was nice talking to you,” you say softly. "Was there something you wanted to say earlier, though?"

He pauses for a moment before replying, his expression reminiscent of the time a few weeks ago when you declined his dinner invitation. You still don’t understand why he seemed somewhat disappointed; it's not like it was a date. He had made it clear he wanted to go out as colleagues. The only reason you declined was because you didn’t want him feeling pity for you, or the struggles that came with the divorce.

"It's okay, we'll have to save that conversation for another time," Taehyung's voice brings you back to the present. "Enjoy the rest of your day, __. Thanks again for staying with me."

"Of course," you reply, then turn to Dr. Min. "If you wouldn't mind letting me know when and if he can be discharged, I'd appreciate it. And Kim Namjoon too, since we're both nearby." Dr. Min nods in agreement. With that, you sling your bag over your shoulder and exit the room.

“He said what?!” Your best friend Jimin almost shouts through the video call, eyes wide with disbelief. You’ve just finished recounting your ex-husband's unexpected, drunken confession from the previous night. Jimin, who already holds a deep-seated grudge against Jungkook, looks livid.

“He had the nerve to say that to you? While he was drunk?” Jimin continues, his hands clenching into fists.

You nod, feeling a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “Yeah, I told him not to call my number again and he hasn't contacted me since.” As expected, he likely forgot all about it.

“Good,” Jimin declares with a fierce protectiveness, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You don’t need that kind of drama in your life, especially not from him. And if he even thinks about calling you again, just say the word, and I'll come down there and handle it personally.” He emphasizes 'personally' with such intensity that it makes you giggle for the first time tonight.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you say, a warm feeling spreading through you at his unwavering support. “I’m just trying to move on, focus on work, and other things.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and he nods firmly. “You're incredibly strong, __. Are you really okay though? It was a huge blow for him to make a confession like that and even though I dislike him, I know you still have some lingering feelings for him. I'm not a fool to believe you're unaffected.”

You take a deep breath, appreciating your best friend's perceptiveness. “It’s complicated. I’m trying so hard to move past everything, especially with Melody's help, and then he just…throws that at me. It’s like he’s trying to pull me back into his mess.”

Jimin’s eyes are filled with concern. “You don’t owe him anything. Remember that. He made his choices, and you have every right to move on without his baggage.”

“I know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “It’s just…easier said than done. But I’m working on it.”

“You’re doing great,” Jimin reassures, his voice gentle. “And you have every right to focus on yourself now. Don’t let him mess with your head.”

You nod, feeling a bit lighter with the support. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

“I'm always here for you love,” he says, his protective demeanor softening into a warm smile. “Now, enough about that idiot. How’s everything else? Work? Taehyung? Everyone at the office is talking about his unfortunate accident, poor sucker.”

At the mention of your colleague, you feel a sudden heat rise to your cheeks. Did the heaters in your apartment just turn up or something?

“He’s slowly recovering," you answer. "I saw him this morning and we talked for a bit. He’s... he’s been through a lot.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, “You saw him yesterday too, right? And if my memory serves, you were at the hospital with him until the afternoon. I remember I texted you to see if you were free to call earlier than planned. Something you'd like to tell me?” A teasing grin suddenly spreads across his face, and you shake your head, knowing exactly what he's insinuating. It's like talking to Dr. Min all over again.

“Seriously, Chim, no, it's not like that," you deny instantly, heart racing a little. "He's been my company endorser for a little over six months now, and he’s been nothing but kind to me. With everything he’s been through, I just want to make sure he'll be okay. I feel somewhat responsible for him. Maybe I'm crazy.”

“Responsibility, huh?” Jimin smirks, unconvinced of your denial. “Sure. Because ‘responsibility’ usually makes people blush.”

You wave off his suspicions, a nervous chuckle escaping you. “I’m not, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing your teasing, that'd be great."

“Okay, okay,” Jimin chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But if you ask me, it sounds like more than just responsibility. Taehyung seems like a sweet guy, and you care about him. And I sense he feels the same way about you. Don't think I forgot about his little dinner request weeks back.”

You chuckle, brushing off his suspicions. “Oh, come on, enough. Believing that Kim Taehyung has any kind of interest in me is like believing that Jungkook loves me. It’s unfathomable. Taehyung's a colleague, that’s all.”

“Okay, excuse me? Unfathomable?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone help! My best friend is selling themselves short, again. __, you’re amazing, and anyone, including Taehyung, would be lucky to have you. That ex-husband of yours was an idiot, but just because he couldn't see what he had doesn’t mean others can’t.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but Jimin’s words hit a soft spot. “Chim, you're sweet, but I'm just saying that Taehyung is on a completely different level. I’m just me... a 30-year-old divorcee with a half-decent startup.” Those alone are enough to have any man steer clear of you.

“Stop this, __. You're much more than that, and it's pretty damn incredible,” Jimin insists, his voice firm. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. That’s not something to brush off. Taehyung sees that. Anyone with half a brain can see that.”

You sigh, feeling a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “I appreciate it, Chim. But let’s just drop it, please?”

“Alright, I won't push it," he concedes gently, "just know I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thanks, Jimin,” you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably explode from all that bottled-up stress,” he jokes, making you laugh again. “But seriously, you’re doing great. Just keep taking it one step at a time, and call me if you need anything!”

As the call ends, you’re left with a lot to think about. Jimin’s words echo in your mind, and for a brief second, you find yourself wondering if maybe your best friend is right—that perhaps you do care about your colleague more than you’re willing to admit.

Well, either way, it doesn't matter; you've got enough on your plate as it is.

Starting with the stack of papers laid out on the coffee table, work you brought home that's awaiting your attention. It's a critical deal for your startup, one that could secure much-needed funding and propel your business to the next level.

Sighing softly, you reach for your laptop and open the latest project proposal.

You start your Sunday as you always do, with a book in hand, heading to your favorite café. It’s a ritual that’s been with you since your teenage years, and today, you feel a desperate need for its familiar comfort. After wrapping up the project proposal late into the night, your brain craved a break.

Entering the quaint café, you’re greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation. Finding a cozy spot by the large window, you settle in for a day of reading, occasionally looking up to observe people passing by outside.

Hours slip away unnoticed in the serene atmosphere, lost in the pages of your book. Somewhere along the way, mid-sentence, your thoughts subconsciously drift to a conversation with Taehyung weeks before his accident—the day of your six-month anniversary.

You remember how he mentioned his interest in books that day, leaving you curious about what he enjoys reading. You imagine he might be into classic authors like Charles Dickens or Oscar Wilde. Then again, you might be mistaken.

Refocusing on your book, you manage to read another paragraph before thoughts of Taehyung intrude again. Did he have any company today? You quietly hope Namjoon paid him a visit. "Okay, __, calm down," you tell yourself, "Taehyung will be fine, and Namjoon definitely would have visited him now that he's awake." With a determined effort, you return to your book.

It isn't until the sun begins its descent that you decide it's time to pack up your things and head home. Passing by the hospital on your way, a sense of restlessness tugs at you once more. Should you stop and see Taehyung, even if only for a few minutes? The thought lingers, but then you recall Dr. Min's pending update on his discharge status. Maybe it's best to wait for his confirmation.

You continue driving, but the concern refuses to leave your mind. Eventually, you make a decisive turn, heading back towards the hospital. It wouldn't be as lengthy as last time—just a quick visit to check on how he's doing.

When you arrive at the hospital, you hesitate for a moment outside the entrance. It's Sunday evening, and visiting hours are likely limited. You check your phone quickly to see if Dr. Min has sent any updates, but there's nothing new.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to go in anyway.

Taehyung is awake when the nurse leads you to his room, casually flipping through a magazine. He looks up, his expression softening into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hey," you say softly, stepping inside. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by. I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay," he replies warmly, setting the magazine aside. "I'm happy to see you."

You nod, feeling relieved that he isn't disturbed by your presence.

"Though, in all honesty," he continues, "I didn't expect you back today."

"I just wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay," you admit quietly, taking a seat nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm better, just a bit sore still," he says sincerely, his gaze meeting yours. "What about you? How's your Sunday been?"

"Quiet," you respond with a small smile. "Spent most of it reading at a café, and then decided to stop by here."

"Really?" His interest piqued, he asks, "Which one? Sometimes I do the same thing when I have some free time. Or, I'll read at the beach too. It's relaxing."

"Well, have you tried the one on Willow Street? I've been a regular there since I was 16."

"No... I'm not familiar with that one," he admits, "I usually go to the one on 5th."

"5th? You know, I don't recall a café on 5th, unless..." you pause, realization dawning, "oh no," you blurt out unintentionally.

"What?" Taehyung's eyes twinkle with amusement at your spontaneous reaction. "Have you been?"

You hesitate to answer, not wanting to risk offending him.

"Yes..."

"And?" Crap, you were hoping he wouldn't ask for details.

"Um... it's okay," you reply simply.

"What? Just okay?" Taehyung exclaims, feigning offense. "Their coffee and tea are decent, and they have those comfy armchairs by the window."

"I know, but there's just something about it," you reply with a playful shrug. "Maybe it's the lighting, or maybe I'm just picky."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Maybe I'll check out this Willow Street café sometime. You've been going there for years, so it must be good."

"Well, I highly recommend it." You can't help but feel a bit smug, though you try to keep a straight face. It's just nice to have someone take your suggestion seriously. "You'll have to tell me your review of the place if you go."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully in reply, his gaze lingering on you with a hint of admiration. You look away, pretending to straighten your jacket. Why is he staring like that? You're not used to being looked at without some sense of hostility.

Just as you begin to feel a bit awkward, the door swings open, and a nurse peeks inside.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says kindly, "but visiting hours are over for the evening."

You glance at your watch, surprised at how quickly time has flown. "Oh, okay," you reply, a touch disappointed. "I'll be heading out then, thank you."

Once the nurse leaves, you direct your focus back to Taehyung. He smiles understandingly, sitting up a bit straighter. "Thanks for stopping by," he says warmly.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, gathering your things. "Did Dr. Min mention having you discharged any time soon?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing yet. Might be here for a couple more days."

You nod, feeling sympathy for his extended stay. "Well, take care of yourself, okay? Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," Taehyung assures you with a grateful smile. He watches as you make your way to the door, but just before you can twist the metal knob, he speaks up agian. "Uhm...if you have time tomorrow, I wouldn't mind if you came in again. It was nice to...chat."

For the first time, Taehyung seems to stumble over his words. As someone who's naturally charismatic, not to mention a skilled actor, there's a hint of nervousness in his voice.

When you turn your head to glance back at him, his smile has faded, replaced by a hopeful look, hands gently clutching the blankets.

"Sure," you agree to his innocent request, somehow unable to resist. "I'll try to stop in tomorrow if I can."

His boxy smile returns instantly as he bids you one final goodnight.

As you walk out of the room, that same smile lingers in your mind—you're glad you decided to come by.

In the days that follow, you find yourself at Taehyung's hospital bed every evening after work. Initially fulfilling his wishes, you gradually realize you've grown fond of his company. Taehyung turns out to be easy to talk to, a good listener who encourages questions you wouldn't normally ask within office walls. Here you are again, immersed in yet another spontaneous conversation that neither of you minds.

"So, what's it really like?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your voice. "Being an actor? And what about kissing strangers? I've heard some co-stars end up together after playing an onscreen couple for so long."

Taehyung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Being an actor is both exhilarating and challenging," he begins, reflecting on his experiences. "Kissing scenes... well, they're not as glamorous as they seem on screen. There are a lot of technical aspects to consider, like camera angles and timing. As for getting involved with co-stars outside of filming, I wouldn't be familiar with that. I prefer to keep those lines pretty separate."

You listen intently, fascinated by his insights into a world so different from your own. But one thing sticks out to you—how does he handle kissing scenes if he were to be in a relationship? Wouldn't that get complicated?

"I often wonder what I'd do if I had a partner," Taehyung muses suddenly, his voice thoughtful, as if sensing your unspoken question. "About the kiss scenes, I mean. I haven't actually dated for a while." Really? You think, he cant be serious...

"I'd imagine they'd be understanding since it's part of the job," you offer, trying to match his contemplative tone.

"Is that how you'd respond?" Taehyung's question catches you off guard.

"Me?" you ask, feeling slightly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I'm just curious. Would you be okay with that?"

"Uhm... well, honestly, probably not," you admit, feeling a bit awkward. "I think I'd have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. I'd kind of feel like I was sharing my partner. I don't want to share like that."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, you mentally chastise yourself. You definitely said too much.

To your surprise, Taehyung merely gives a small smile in response. "I think I'd feel the same," he says softly.

The subject ends there, as the conversation soon shifts to his latest project instead—a romantic comedy series titled with a playful nod to a four-leaf clover.

"You know, I've never seen a four-leaf clover in my life," you admit with a slight chuckle.

Taehyung laughs softly, his eyes brightening. "Really? They're supposed to bring good luck, you know."

"Good luck, huh? I guess I've never had the pleasure," you replied with a grin.

"Well, then it's settled," he declared with a playful glint in his eyes. "I'll find one for you once I'm out of here," he promises warmly.

You smile, exchanging a silent moment before hitting him with your next question. "Do you watch your own shows or movies?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Taehyung's expression shifts subtly, his gaze momentarily distant. "Honestly, I don't," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I guess I've always felt a bit awkward seeing myself on screen. It's strange, right?"

You reassure him with a smile. "It's not so far-fetched, but I don't think there's anything to be embarrassed about. You're talented, Taehyung. I'm sure your performances are amazing."

Taehyung nods thoughtfully but then quirks an eyebrow at you. "But have you actually seen any of my work? It's a little cheesy."

You hesitate, feeling a touch sheepish. "Honestly, no," you confess. "I've never watched any of your shows or movies. But I will!"

A flicker of déjà vu crosses Taehyung's face, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's funny," he murmurs. "I feel like I've heard those exact words before, recently."

You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood. He can't be referring to that night you spoke to him while he was asleep, right? "Maybe it's just a sign that I need to catch up on all the great acting I've been missing out on," you quip, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness.

Taehyung grins, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I'll hold you to that. You'll have to give me your honest review."

"Deal," you agree with a nod. "So, as much as I hate to cut this short, I think I'm going to have to get going now."

"I understand, it's past 6:30 pm. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure thing," you reply warmly. "Get some rest."

By Thursday afternoon, you finally receive the long-awaited call from Dr. Min, informing you that Taehyung will be discharged the next morning. You're relieved that Taehyung is healthy enough to continue his recovery at home. Seeing him yesterday, he looked the best he's been since his accident. However, a small part of you feels annoyed that Dr. Min didn't call you—he called Namjoon instead.

It was an ordinary afternoon when your secretary's phone rang. Namjoon was crouched over at his desk, concentrating on a number of spreadsheets just moments before. You remember leaping over to him as soon as you heard the words, "he's ready for discharge tomorrow," leave his lips.

It's now Friday morning, and you're standing in front of your secretary's desk.

"So, you're off to pick up Taehyung now?" you ask, as casually as you can. You do your best to ignore the lingering irritation growing inside you.

"Yeah," your secretary finally replies, glancing up from his screen. "I'll drive over to the hospital in about half an hour."

"Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. So what if Namjoon gets to pick him up instead of you? It's fine, you should get over it.

It's just a little odd that Dr. Min chose to call Namjoon instead of you though. You know for a fact you've been much more involved with Taehyung's well-being than he has.

Of course, Taehyung and Namjoon are good friends, but your secretary has only gone to see him twice over the past week his buddy's been in the hospital. You've been there every day, so wouldn't it make sense that you be called first?

Evidently not.

Namjoon will be taking Taehyung home, and you likely won't be seeing him at all today. In fact, you're not even sure when you'll see him next. Technically, you have his address stored away in an HR file, but you're no creep. And you most certainly are not about to show up at his place unannounced.

It's not like Taehyung has texted you today either. Not even a quick update on his condition.

"Um..." Namjoon starts, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Is there something else you wanted to say? I feel like you're kinda hovering over me now, to be quite honest."

"Oh, sorry," you respond, stepping back a bit. You didn't realize you were staring at him, wordless, for longer than normal. "Nothing else. Drive safe."

As if seeing right through you, Namjoon's expression softens. "If you want to see how Taehyung is, you can just text him. I'm sure he'll respond to you."

"No, it's okay," you quickly dismiss the suggestion. You don't want to bombard a man who's just getting out of the hospital with your texts. You'll leave him alone to rest.

Namjoon gives you a knowing look, eyeing your slightly hesitant state. "I'm serious, boss. Text him. You've been at his side this entire week, so if there's anyone who'd be more deserving of knowing what's up, it’d be you."

Deserving? That's a bit far, is it not? Yes, you've been visiting him, but it's not like you saved his life or anything. It's not that big of a deal. You just wanted to...make sure he was okay.

"I—When did you decide to call me boss again?" you switch subjects, but Namjoon remains unaffected.

"Text him," Namjoon says for the final time before reaching for his keys in his desk drawer. "I gotta get going, but I'll be back after I drop Tae off."

"Tae?" You haven't heard him called that before.

"Yeah, it's kinda a pet name. Sorry, I started calling him that once we became friends, so it slips out here and there. It's like second nature now."

"Got it," you nod, a bit disappointed. Maybe you weren't as close to Taehyung as you thought. "Make sure he gets home okay," you finish.

"I will." Namjoon gets up from his desk and heads out of the office. You turn around and return to your own office once he's out of sight.

While Namjoon is out, his phone rings incessantly. You find yourself getting up from your desk multiple times to take calls. By the afternoon, you're exhausted from the constant interruptions.

Maybe you should consider giving the poor man a raise.

Before the thought fully develops, his phone rings again. You don't even bother checking the caller ID anymore; you simply pick up the phone and answer in your sweetest voice.

"__? I thought I’d be hearing Namjoon first... hey," his voice is hesitant. "I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

"Jungkook," you reply cautiously, instantly recognizing his voice. "Why are you calling my work phone?"

"I... I didn't know how else to reach you. Can I come in or can you come into the parking lot? I have something to give you."

You pause, feeling a rush of unease. You haven’t spoken to Jungkook since last Friday when he called you out of the blue. Honestly, you hoped you wouldn’t hear from him, especially after telling him not to call again. It's strange that he keeps finding ways to show up unexpectedly.

"What is it you need to give me, Jungkook?" you ask bluntly, "I'm very busy."

There’s a brief silence on the other end before he answers, "It’s... It’s something personal. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone. Please, can you just come down for a moment?"

You weigh your options, torn between curiosity and apprehension. His unpredictability lately has left you unsure of what to expect. "Jungkook, I really don’t think—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice sounding more urgent. "I promise it won’t take long."

Taking a deep breath, you decide to handle this with as much grace as you can muster. "Fine. I’ll be down in a minute."

You end the call and sit back, trying to steady your thoughts. His sudden request feels odd, and part of you worries about what he might say or do next. As you make your way to the parking lot, you mentally prepare yourself for another potentially difficult encounter.

When you arrive, Jungkook stands near his car, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His usual confident demeanor seems replaced by a sense of unease.

"Hey," he starts, his voice tentative, "thanks for agreeing to meet."

You give a brief nod, keeping your tone neutral. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting yours. "I wanted to apologize," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry for calling you up drunk."

You feel a flicker of irritation. This is what he wanted to give you? An apology that's seven days late? You figured he would have just forgone the apology by now.

"Why now?" you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, a defense mechanism you've developed. "It's been a week. I’m not sure if you realize that or not though."

"I know," he says quickly, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to come sooner, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me or just never hear from me again."

You scoff slightly, "Well, for the first time, you are completely right. I don't want to see you, Jungkook." You try to keep your voice steady, but the raw edges of your emotions bleed through. There’s no point sugarcoating it at this stage; he’ll just keep pushing your boundaries if you don’t become firm with him.

He winces at your words, nodding slowly. "You have every right to feel that way. I messed up, big time. I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry. You deserve someone who isn't as screwed up as I am. But I still mean everything I said that night. I do love you. It took me until now to realize that, apparently."

You sigh, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Love? Now? After everything? Somehow, it feels more like a burden than anything.

"Jungkook, love isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card," you say slowly, your voice somewhat shaky. "It's not something you can just throw out there to fix things. Not only did you divorce me, but you also led me to believe we could actually be something. All those weeks of you being attentive and showing up for me after I shared my feelings made me believe that you were honestly trying to make our marriage work, that you were committed. You lied to me, discarded me, and now that I'm not around, you suddenly miss me? No, I'm sorry. You broke my trust, and that's not something you can just apologize away."

You pause, feeling the weight of your words settle in the tense air between you and Jungkook.

He looks down, nodding again. "I get it. I really do. And I don't expect you to forgive me or anything. I just wanted you to know that I understand how much I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I understand if you hate me."

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to stir inside. "Jungkook," you begin carefully, meeting his eyes. "What happened between us was painful. You calling me drunk last week was also painful. I'm sorry about the challenges you had with your parents, but it's no excuse to put that on others. If you need someone to discuss personal matters with, I suggest you see a professional."

You pause, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't hate you, okay? I'm not that cold-hearted. There's still part of me that I think might always hold space for you, but I can't just forget everything. I need to move on, and that means you can't keep calling me at random times. It’s not fair to either of us. I appreciate the apology, but I don't think we can go much further."

He nods solemnly, understanding your stance. "Okay," Jungkook replies softly, his voice filled with a sadness you hadn’t expected. "I understand. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Take care of yourself, okay? I...I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me," he says, his eyes earnest. "And... I'm really sorry for everything."

He begins to back away toward his car, and as he does, it hits you—it’s over.

"Take care, Jungkook," you say gently. "Don't overwork yourself, alright? Stay healthy."

He looks at you, forcing a smile. "You know I can't do that. It isn't in my blood." He sings the last part, referencing a song you both used to joke about, and you let out a small chuckle despite yourself.

"God, Jeon, I thought you'd stop with that song by now." you say, shaking your head.

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head with a faint grin as he opens his car door. "I'm taking it to my grave. I'll see you later, __."

You know the last part is a lie, an empty promise to soften the blow. Still, you respond, "Yeah, see you."

With that, you part ways in the parking lot, each going your separate ways. As you walk back to your office, the weight of the finality settles in. It's all over, you think, feeling the sting of a single tear trailing down your cheek. Unbeknownst to you, a similar tear streams down Jungkook's face as he drives away, each tear falling for completely different reasons.

Two weeks pass, and Jungkook keeps his word. He hasn’t called, texted, or shown up at your work. It’s as if he’s become a stranger, someone you once knew but is now part of a distant past.

Your days begin to regain a sense of normalcy. The emotional weight of the past few months slowly starts to lift, allowing you to refocus on your work and personal well-being. The company demands your attention, and you dive into projects, meetings, and strategies with a renewed energy.

Yet, despite the return to routine, there's a persistent sense of something missing. You haven’t talked to Taehyung at all since he got discharged from the hospital. You haven’t seen him either, and the silence pulls at you more each day.

Every time you try to get information about him from Namjoon, he gives you the same response: "Just text him. Don’t overthink it; he’ll be glad to hear from you." Once, you sensed that Namjoon wanted to say more but stopped himself short, making the excuse that it wasn’t for him to say. Whatever that meant.

You’re on your way home from running errands when the thought enters your mind for the umpteenth time: should you text Taehyung?

You’re torn between respecting his privacy and wanting to check in on him. He hasn’t reached out, so maybe he’s trying to distance himself or just needs time to recover alone, now that he’s in the comfort of his own home. On the other hand, you can’t shake the feeling that checking in would be the right thing to do.

As you approach your apartment building, you pull over into a quiet parking spot, letting your car idle. Gripping your phone, you take a deep breath and finally decide to text him.

You: Hey, Taehyung. I hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling. Let me know if you need anything. We still miss you at the office!

You stare at the message for a moment before hitting send. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you wait. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he doesn't want to hear from you?

You end up deleting the message entirely.

Forget it, you think, if he wanted to hear from you he would have texted by now, right? Just leave it alone. You said you'd support him while he was in the hospital and you did. Now he needs his space to finish healing. He'll reach out when he's ready.

Your phone buzzes the next minute, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glance at it, half hoping that Taehyung was secretly telepathic. But it isn’t from him. Instead, it’s a notification from a friend inviting you to a small get-together this coming weekend.

Smiling, you accept the invitation.

Turns out your friend's get-together was a singles mixer. Unsurprisingly, you weren't approached much, if at all. It seemed the men were either too nervous, still associating you with your ex-husband, or not quite into accomplished women. That didn't stop them from ogling you, though, as your friend insisted that you dress for the affair. You didn't choose anything flashy, but it was certainly flattering.

Leaving without a phone number didn't bother you, though. At thirty years old, most of the people were younger than you, including your friend who was a couple of years younger. Plus, you found your mind often wandering to the one man you hadn't heard from in nearly three weeks—Kim Taehyung. Should you stop overthinking and finally listen to Namjoon's suggestion? Maybe it's time to contact him.

Lost in thought on your drive home, you snap back to reality when you slam on the brakes at a sudden red light. Damn, you hadn't noticed it change so quickly. Shaking off any lingering daze, you refocus and spot a man crossing the street ahead, a little dog trotting beside him on a leash.

"Taehyung," you whisper to yourself. "What is he doing out here, especially on this slipper—shit!"

Your heart skips a beat as Taehyung stumbles on the ice, struggling to keep his balance. Concerned, you pull up to the side of the road as soon as the light turns green, parking quickly and jumping out of your car to rush over to him. He leans against a brick building, his dog, Tan, yelping at your approach. Cute little guy, but you're focus is on Taehyung.

"Damn," he mutters, trying to steady himself. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you. "__, I—" he begins.

"What are you doing, Kim Taehyung?" you scold gently. "Are you trying to hurt yourself again?"

Taehyung meets your gaze, his Gucci scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. "No," he replies earnestly. "I just needed some fresh air. It's been nearly three weeks since I was discharged, and Dr. Min said short walks with Tan are okay now. My parents were here for a while, but they left this weekend."

His explanation sinks in as you take in his appearance. Despite the chill in the air, he looks better than the last time you saw him. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold, and there's a determination in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"You should be more careful," you reply softly, stepping closer to him. Tan, sensing the shift in attention, continues to bark happily, tail wagging. "Are you okay? My car is right here, if you need me to take you home or anything."

Taehyung nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know, I know. Sorry for worrying you." He gestures to Tan, who is now circling around your legs in excitement. "Tan here doesn't seem to mind the ice at all, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind you either."

You chuckle softly, crouching down to pet the little dog. "Is he usually this friendly?"

"Not at first, no," Taehyung replies, his tone lighter now. He glances down at you, his eyes softening. "I'm glad I ran into you, though. It's been...a while."

You nod, standing to your feet. "It has. I'm glad to see you're doing better."

"I am," he affirms, his gaze steady on yours. "Thanks to you, mostly. You were there for me when I needed it the most."

"Oh, come on," you say, waving off the comment. "I didn't do that much."

Taehyung's smile widens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You did more than you realize."

You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you maintain eye contact, appreciating the warmth in his gaze. The longer you stand there, staring at each other, the uneasier you feel. Perhaps you shouldn't ask the question that's been on your mind, but it slips out before you can stop it.

"Why didn't you call?" you ask, surprising both yourself and Taehyung as he simultaneously voices the exact same question.

Taken aback by the simultaneous question, you both chuckle nervously, breaking the tension. Taehyung scratches the back of his neck, sheepish.

"I thought about it every day," he admits, his voice quiet but sincere. "But I wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me. I already took so much of your time, and I didn't want to ask more from you. So, I asked Namjoon to pick me up from the hospital. I thought maybe it would be better for me to wait for you to reach out and focus on recovering."

You nod, understanding flooding your expression. "I felt quite similar. I thought maybe you asked Namjoon because he's your friend. I didn't want to hound you when you just got released from the hospital, so I decided to let you recover in peace. I guess in the end, I was also waiting for you to reach out with an update of some kind."

Taehyung takes a few seconds to fully absorb your words before replying. "I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes reflecting genuine remorse. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. I would have been more than happy with you picking me up instead of Namjoon. I realize that I should have at least reached out to update you instead of going silent. I'd like to think of you as my friend too. But I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I just didn't want to burden you." His gaze becomes downcast as he stares at the ground beneath him.

You're unsure where you find the courage, but you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, gently lifting his face so he meets your eyes. You have to stand on your tiptoes a bit, which he finds endearing.

"I’d like to consider you my friend too, and that means you shouldn't worry about burdening me anymore, Tae," you say softly, your touch lingering momentarily on his face, caught up in the moment. When you realize what you've done, you pull back slightly, flustered. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay," he responds, his voice gentle. "I don't mind. You can call me Tae from now on if you'd like. Also, you're not a burden either, you never were to me."

You're speechless for a second before replying. "So, friends then?" you ask. "No more mixed signals and reaching out when we want?"

"I mean, I’d like that as long as you do too," he confirms with a warm smile, though his eyes say there's more that he's left unsaid. You don't notice, however.

"Text me whenever you have something on your mind," he continues.

"I will," you promise. “You too.”

"Definitely.” Taehyung pauses, glancing down at Tan who's decided to lay down by his feet. "So, I was going to take a walk with Tan at the park nearby. Any chance you'd like to join me?" His gaze shifts back to you, hopeful yet uncertain.

"I'd like that," you reply genuinely. "But we're taking my car over, so you don't break a hip on this ice, old man."

Taehyung's mouth gapes open as he shakes his head. "How many times do I need to tell you? I'm only two years older than you. Two!"

It's surreal.

How much you and Taehyung have started becoming friends, that is.

Almost two months have already passed, and it feels like just yesterday you were merely colleagues, you his boss.

Saturdays have become your day with Taehyung now. While part of you insists it's to prevent him from slipping on the ice again, deep down, you both know there's more to it now that he's almost fully recovered from his injuries.

Each weekend, you find yourselves exploring different parks and streets, swapping childhood stories, and sharing laughter over the dumbest things. Today, however, would be different. With rain threatening to drench the city, Taehyung suggested a change of plans—a cozy movie day indoors. Little did he know, you had a surprise in store for him.

You dash up to the front door, a bag of homemade food in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

Taehyung opens the door with a grin, holding his own umbrella. "Hey! Perfect timing," he chuckles, taking the umbrella from you and gesturing inside. "Come in. It's freezing out there today."

You step inside, shaking off the raindrops and removing your shoes. The warmth of his home envelopes you, a comforting contrast to the chilly rain outside.

"I brought something," you announce, holding up the bag. "Guess what it is?"

Taehyung looks at you curiously, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Hmm," he muses, pretending to ponder. "Knowing you, it's probably my favorite spicy chicken wings from that place near your office."

"Very close, Tae. Except these chicken wings were made by your favorite person in the whole world," you tease, handing him the bag with a grin.

Taehyung's eyes lit up as he takes the bag from you. "No way," he says, a mix of disbelief and excitement in his voice. "You made them yourself? You're the best, __. Seriously."

"It's the least I could do," you reply with a smile, following him into the living room where the TV flickers. "Besides, it's pouring out there. Movie day with good food seems like the perfect plan."

"Absolutely," he agrees, setting the food down on the coffee table. "I was thinking we could start with that new action flick I heard about."

"Aww, but I thought you said we could watch one of your movies instead?" you argue playfully, sinking into the couch. Tan bounds over, wagging his tail in excitement at the prospect of company. You scratch behind his ears while Taehyung sets up the movie.

"What? I don't remember saying that. Was I drunk that day?" he jokes.

"Well... maybe?" you tease back.

"I told you, __, I don't like watching my own films. It's weird, and half the time it's me kissing the female lead. You're going to need to watch those on your own time," he quips, his tone more serious than intended. The truth is, he really would rather not be there when you watch him kiss his co-stars.

"Alright, alright, getting aggressive over there," you chuckle, not seeing the faint rosy tint that's crept up on his cheeks. "We'll watch the action movie."

As the opening scenes roll, you can't help but steal glances at Taehyung. Despite the seriousness of his recent health issues, he seems more at ease today, a genuine smile gracing his face as he takes a seat beside you. It feels good to see him like this, relaxed and feeling more like himself.

Halfway through the movie, he nudges you gently. "Thanks for coming over today," he says softly, his gaze warm as it meets yours. "And for the food, of course."

"You don't have to thank me," you reply sincerely, nudging him back with a smile. "I'm happy to do it."

Unexpectedly, Taehyung reaches for the TV remote, pausing the scene playing in front of you. "Hey, __," he says, turning to face you, a hint of nervousness in his eyes as they shift from side to side.

"What is it, Tae?" You feel a slight unease, sensing tension. He's once again just staring into your eyes, wordless.

"Do you..." he starts but stops short, his voice trailing off.

"Yes?" You search his face for clues as to what he's trying to say.

"Would you want to go to a party with my family?" he finally asks, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents are hosting to celebrate my recovery, but really it's just an excuse to get the family together."

"So, a family reunion?" Your voice drops slightly, a mix of surprise and...disappointment? Why had you been expecting something different?

"I mean, yes, sort of. You don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly, almost anxiously. "I know it might be uncomfortable for you, but you've been here for me during so much of my recovery. It would mean a lot to have you there. My parents want to meet you too."

"Um... well, I've never been to a family function before," you admit hesitantly.

"You haven't?" Taehyung looks genuinely surprised.

You shake your head. "My family's never been one to do those types of things."

"Well, consider yourself part of my family then. Come with me, __. They'll love you."

"I-I don't know about that," you say softly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. "How can you be so sure that they'll like me?"

"Because I do," he urges gently, "and if I like you, so will they."

You're taken aback by his words, unsure how to respond. Surely he means this in a platonic way. Despite growing closer, you and Taehyung are just friends, setting aside any previous suspicions of romantic interest. Maybe if circumstances were different—if you weren't divorced—then maybe you could entertain the idea.

For now, you'll leave that side of him alone and simply be his friend. You feel a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

"Okay," you finally say, nodding your head. "I'll come. When is it?"

"They want to do it next weekend, weather permitting. We can carpool if you'd like, or you can take your own car," he offers.

"I'll think about it," you reply, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

"Great." Taehyung flashes a boxy grin. "Thank you, I was so nervous to ask."

"Of course," you say, offering a tight-lipped smile. Taehyung unpauses the movie, and you return your attention to the TV screen. Minutes following your phone buzzes and a text message from Jimin appears on your screen.

Chim 🐥: __! Hate to be bringing this up, but have you seen the news about Jungkook? Looks like he's preparing to step down as CEO. Did you know about this?"

What? You had no clue.

a/n: If you are mad at me, well....I'm sorry but pls blame jk instead. But I am hoping you enjoyed! 🥰 vote jjk or kth

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

Tags:

@jksjx @lovingkoalaface @junecat18 @babystarcandyjk97 @wobblewobble822 @a-gayish-unicorn @neverthefirstchoice @whipwhoops @hubbytaehyung @jalexad @cassies-cookies @llallaaa @marshieeeemallow @baechugff @lovemazespluto @eegyo @iwanttobecalledaurora @harmonyflora @francheskarm34 @sftlrmin @saba-ya @11thenightwemet11 @yoursnixni @zafirowwa2909 @btsffreader92 @junniesoleilkth @iamcamlb @bangctans @lilliankoo @talyaaas-blog @blackswan18 @appleh4ad @hoseokteardrop @613tannies @whoa-jo @borahaeb1ch @getougf @chimmisbae @kookcobain @miniekookiegucci @purplelanterns @eegyo @inthemiddleofsomething22-blog @darkuni63 @bibimboppin19 @phanniefoo @chieftoadturkeynickel @existenciosa @dasommwa @minayas1998 @sumzysworld @pwd54gr54 @jellycake2109 @sigxx123 @00frenchfries00 @importantperfectionmiracle @stigma93 @lpgirl2324 @youremyjinearth @moonups-stuff @bubblyyz @hvnnibvni @ttanniett @secfir @urlovelily @iknowhistouch3 @nadzzzblog @itsmina29 @mochibites00 @syazzzlisa @ash07128 @kawennote09 @merrygo14 @butterymin @cybercheesygurl @juju-227592 @lesiacapouille

side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

565 notes · View notes

mxigo · 2 months

Text

i remember everything (wish i didn't, but i do) | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: logan saved the timeline, but the consequence is that he doesn't remember anything after 1973. now back in 2023, he has missed 50 years of history. including any history of your relationship with him.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.02k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

“Well, Logan, I guess it would be a bit more efficient if I were to just show you.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, and Logan felt the presence of his telepathy around his mind, waiting just on the edge. He stood straight before giving a single nod, letting his mind relax around the gentle intrusion.

In an instant, the past fifty years that had changed flooded his mind. The sentinel program never happened, and human attitude towards mutants changed for the better. Jean got the help that she needed early on to completely control her powers, which also meant that she was able to safely get herself and the jet out of Alkali Lake when the dam burst. She never killed Scott, and never joined Magneto when she was consumed by Dark Phoenix. So, Logan never had to kill her. The school was still here, and mutants were, for the most part, able to live peacefully.

Although, there was a blip of a memory that had him stumbling back from Xavier’s desk in shock, the professor slipping from his mind. His mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what he saw.

“Now, Logan—”

“Wh-Who was that? How long ago was that memory?”

Xavier sighed. “Her name is Y/N, but she goes by Halo in the field. The memory that I just showed you happened just a week ago before she left for the mission that she is currently on in Texas.”

A beat passed as the memory played out in Logan’s mind again. It was from Xavier’s eyes, but he could see clearly how he had his hands resting on the hips of a woman he had never seen before, but she was dressed up in an X-Man suit, and he looked at her with such warmth and tenderness. She was also holding onto his biceps as they made their goodbye in the jet’s hangar, but before she stepped away, Logan had tilted her head up for a kiss.

“Is she, I mean, are we—”

“You and Halo have been together for the past four years. If I recall correctly, it was actually you who made the first move, Logan.”

Logan’s head snapped over to Xavier, his eyes wide in disbelief. His vision blurred as he unfocused for just a moment, trying to grasp on this bomb of information. Five years he had spent with a woman that he has no recollection of spending time with, let alone having feelings for, while at the same time he just saw Jean in the flesh and every feeling that he had harbored years ago came rushing back, still as fresh as that very first day.

His mind flickered back to Xavier’s memory, and he knew that the way he looked at her was different than he had ever looked at Jean, but those feelings for this other woman was nonexistent.

Charles sighed. “I understand this is a predicament, and obviously, there is no way for me to just erase old memories and force you to experience the new ones. She and Colossus aren’t due back for a couple more days, but I’ll make sure to speak to Halo once she returns. Please feel free to use the empty room at the end of the same hall should you feel the need for it.”

And just like that, Xavier just rolled out of his office, leaving Logan to deal. He didn’t linger in the office. Instead, he made his way back up to the room that he woke up in, pushing the door open. Now with the urgency to see if he had changed the past gone, he took the time to really take in the room.

The first thing he noticed were the picture frames lined up on the dresser, each one displaying photos of Halo, him, or both. As he walked further into the room, he saw that one of the nightstands had items that would belong to a female, such as hair ties, a tube of fruity chapstick, and some jewelry pieces. The other was nearly spotless, save for a watch and a book titled A Game of Thrones. As he took a deep breath, he picked up a scent that smelled like his own, but it was intermingled with another softer scent, one of vanilla and lavender. There was even an incense holder on the dresser.

The adjoining bathroom was more of the same; feminine haircare products that smelled like the woman’s scent in the bedroom along with a tower of various makeup items in the corner of the sink counter.

He went back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, letting his head drop into his hands as he tried to make sense of his new present. When he volunteered to go back to ’73, he didn’t consider that there would be more personal changes to his life. Yes, he was ecstatic that Jean and Scott were alive, and that the school was still here, but now he was stuck in a timeline where he was seriously involved with someone that he had never met before.

Besides, that was this Logan’s life, not his. He still had all of his memories from the previous timeline. He was sure he was a completely different person from this one’s. She may not even like this Logan. He may not even like her.

You groaned as you walked up the stairs leading to the bedrooms floor. All of the aches and pains of the mission finally made themselves known as you pushed yourself up each step, causing a slight limp in your cramped legs. You were thankful the mission was over and couldn’t wait to sleep in your own bed. While it was by no means a very long mission, any mission away from Logan felt like an eternity.

Piotr climbed the steps next to you, completely unfazed and unharmed from the mission.

“What do you think they have whipped up in the kitchen for tonight?” he asked as you both reached the top of the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. Logan and I always go for Mexican when we get back from missions. There’s a frozen strawberry margarita and a bowl of queso calling my name from Louie’s,” you answered, tilting your head up and gave a large, excited grin.

It was tradition after four years, and there was nothing that was going to stand between you and that queso.

“Sounds like you might love Mexican more than Logan.”

“It’s a tight race,” you giggled, meandering down the hallway towards your room. “I’ll see you later Piotr.”

The X-Man dipped his head in farewell as he continued down the hallway towards his own room, disappearing around the corner. With a sigh, you turned the knob on your door, pushing it open. You were only able to take a single step inside before you saw a figure out of the corner of your eye in the dark. With a flick of your fingers, you sent a ball of light at whoever it was, stopping it right in front of their face.

“Halo, welcome back. I hope the mission went smoothly.”

“Professor,” you gasped, immediately flicking on the bedroom light. “You scared me.”

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You stepped further into the room, brushing hair out of your eyes as you began taking the first pieces off your suit. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

Xavier rolled over from his corner of your room, stopping just behind you.

“I’m afraid something has happened that affects you, Halo. You may want to take a seat.”

You look at him weirdly, anxiety starting to settle in your stomach. He gestured towards the bed, to which you complied and sat on, letting yourself lean forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You tried to recall if anything was amiss on your walk up from the hangar from the jet, but you couldn’t recall anything, and not even Piotr was disturbed by anything.

“Is everything okay? Is everyone okay?”

The professor’s face turned grim for a moment before taking a breath.

“To even begin to tell you about what has happened today, I need to tell you about what happened fifty years ago in 1973,” he started. “In my youth, I was a different man, an angry, sad man. For some time, I had closed the school and subjected myself to pity and a downward spiral of hate towards myself. Hank was the only friend I had, and he stayed with me here at the mansion. Until one day, Logan came and practically burst through the front doors, demanding to talk to me.

“He claimed that he was sent back in time to find me, and to change the future, or rather, his consciousness was sent back in time to his then current body. I didn’t believe him at first. It wasn’t until I’d looked into his mind later that he was telling the truth, and there was a horrible future that awaited the world if I didn’t help this man. If I didn’t help break Magneto out of prison and help stop Mystique from killing Trask, then mutantkind would cease to exist. While we did save the world, we also changed the future to what it is now, and the Logan that I met in 1973 was sent from the old future of what would have been today’s date.”

Your heart was thundering in your ears, not believing what you were hearing, but you couldn’t move. Something happened to Logan.

“Well, nothing exactly happened to Logan, dear. But our Logan that we have known since the beginning, is the same Logan that I met in 1973.”

You shook your head, not understanding. “What do you mean, Professor, if nothing has actually happened to him?”

“Halo, Logan does not remember anything since that day in DC in 1973.”

Your world stopped, and your brain froze. “What?”

“Logan has no recollection of anything from our current timeline. In his past, Jean and Scott are dead, the school and the country had been obliterated, and you, my dear, he never met.”

You took a stuttering breath as your throat began to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. You looked around the room frantically, searching for something you didn’t know what. The picture frames of the two of you stared hauntingly from the dresser now, and your heart shattered further.

“You-you mean that Logan doesn’t know who I am, at all?” you all but whispered, a stray tear dripping down your cheek.

“He does now, after I showed him what he has missed, but just showing him memories from the outside doesn’t erase his memories from his old past. I’m sorry.”

“So, what do I do now? Just forget everything and pretend that the last six years that I’ve known him just don’t exist anymore?”

“What your next steps are, are up to you, my dear. I would suggest potentially talking to Logan, once you are ready to see him, of course. He may be different, but he is still Logan.”

“But he’s not my Logan,” you whispered, before the dam broke. Gut wrenching sobs ripped from your chest, forcing you to curl in on yourself in front of the last person that you wanted to see you like this.

In a flurry to protect yourself, you rushed past Xavier and into the bathroom, slamming the door. Slowly, you slid down the door and wrapped your arms around yourself, letting the grief take over.

Unbidding, every memory of Logan played through your mind. The first day was when Jean brought you to the mansion, and the first person to officially meet you was him, all cold exterior, but you could see the soft looks that he gave to his friends and the other X-Men. Ultimately, your thoughts ended just over a week ago when he bid you goodbye before your mission. You could still feel his hands holding your waist and the kiss he gave you before the jet took you away.

And you may never have that again.

#mxigo.masterlist.logan #mxigo.logan #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #x men #x men days of future past #marvel #logan howlett

432 notes · View notes

writteninlunarlight-years · 4 months

Note

I havent been able to sleep; so in celebration, can you do headcannons for how Alastor and Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel would react to you falling asleep on their shoulder? Thank you lovely <3

~~~~ HEADCANONS ~~~~

Alastor, Lucifer x Sleepy! Reader

Alastor

He was working on his next broadcast report with your help, of course. However, the work had prolonged into the late hours of the night.

You were already in PJs and had been yawning repeatedly during the conversation.

He had asked you to go to bed at least five times in the last hour.

He knew you were too stubborn, though, to listen, and instead, he opted to just give you an excellent old-fashioned I told you so.

What he wasn't expecting, though, was for your head to fall right on his shoulder

He was overwhelmed someone was touching him without his explicit permission; however, as he rationalized the situation, he seemed to calm down.

You were so warm, and you weighed barely anything against his shoulder. Just cause he looks like a twig doesn't mean he can't handle any weight.

Alastor wouldn't lie. Your company was enjoyable to an extent; he liked having someone to bounce horrific ideas to without being judged too severely.

However, he hadn't realized how comfortable he had been with you. Enough so that his first reaction wasn't to behead you for this action.

As he contemplated internally about this newfound relationship brewing, you kept dozing.

Once he concluded he didn't mind this as much as he thought he should have, he returned to work.

As Alastor grew tired, though, he had a new problem he didn't expect.

He didn't want to risk waking you in his attempt to escape to the confines of his own room.

He was used to pulling all nighters for the radio show, I mean come on overlords never stop. So he was willing to sacrifice today if it meant letting you get the sleep you needed.

The only problem was that about an hour later, Alastor was deep in sleep, with his head leaning against yours.

He would never admit it, but the weight of your head on him was comforting and felt nice.

Alastor hated being vulnerable like this, but tonight, he could allow it because who knows when he will allow you to sit so closely again?

Lucifer

Per Charlie's request, everyone was downstairs in their PJs with a pillow and blanket, ready to watch a movie marathon.

She believed a big group sleepover/movie night would be perfect for everyone to bond.

Each inhabitant had chosen a movie to go on her magical wheel of choices.

Lucifer noticed how tired you were as you progressed through the shows.

You were still new to hell, and the ups and downs of a new sleep cycle weren't set yet.

He asked you three times if you wanted to head to bed and sleep, and Charlie wouldn't mind, but you declined.

As the last movie ended and Charlie put in one more, he felt a weight on his shoulder.

Looking over, he found you utterly dead to the hells around you.

He wouldn't lie. It was adorable, and he tried hard not to fangirl at the action.

He had always wanted something like this to happen. It was just the picture-perfect movie scene.

He also couldn't lie; he was pretty attached to you, being the one Charlie tasked with showing you around when you arrived.

He felt this would solidify a new chapter of whatever your relationship was.

If you felt safe enough to sleep on The King of Hell, then he was sure he had made progress in your life as much as you had in his.

Lucifer thought that he would be awake for hours with the excitement coursing through him.

He liked the weight of your head on him and how it made him feel grounded in the moment.

However, as the last movie ended and Charlie turned on the lights to let everyone go to bed, she saw her father with his head atop yours.

After forty million awwws from Charlie and pictures taken, she left you two to sleep.

#x reader #headcanon #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hotel hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lunarwritings #moons #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

369 notes · View notes

endless-ineffabilities · 6 months

Text

The Bolter (part one)

Steve Rogers x f!Reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve is about to walk out of your life, causing you to let go of everything you two have, and everything that could be.

📝 yes, the title is inspired by Taylor Swift's upcoming song The Bolter. In my interpretation and in this story, it is meant to symbolize someone who runs from someone or something. A potential relationship. A loved one. And the choice is not easy, one that may bring a lot of remorse or catharsis? Anyhow - Steve IS a bolter. In the beginning, at least.

themes/warnings : language, angst!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway)

word count : < 1k

masterlist ▪︎ next chapter

This is it.

This must be what true heartbreak feels like.

Steve, your best friend and the unrequited love of your life, has decided to volunteer to return the Infinity Stones to their respective timelines. Very noble of him.

But he also confessed that he plans to stay with Peggy, now that he finally has the chance.

They can have the dance that was stolen from them, decades ago.

Steve can be with his true love it seems. And that person is just not you.

Well, fuck my life.

"Doll," he smiles ruefully, both of your hands encased in his, "say something."

Say something, he says. What is there to say - I'm in love with you, I want you to stay with me? Don't leave me? I want you stay - for Bucky, for Sam, for Nat. For everyone. For me?

What can you fucking say that will ever be enough? In the 7 years that you've known Steve, you've grown to love him. As a friend, as family. Then, almost inevitably, as the only keeper of your heart. And he knows this.

But he's still leaving. Because, at the end of the day, Peggy is the keeper of his heart.

To you, Steve has always been everything good. Golden boy perfection, with a heart that would put a saint's to shame. Sunshine, laughter, companionship, standing tall and unwavering in his ideals. His gleaming red, white, and blue tendrils snaking their way into the very fibres of your being and taking root.

But now, all you feel is empty. You were angry, when he first told you, days ago. You had almost screamed at him, told him how unfair he was being. You made a long, drawn-out case for Bucky. How he doesn't deserve this. But really, you were making a case for yourself.

Stay, you had said.

He simply smiled, without any mirth. Not like his usual on-brand Steve Rogers gesture of sincerity. He smiled and it did not reach his eyes. He was sad, or maybe he pitied you. And that made you even angrier.

Until minutes later, when you finally broke down, and sobbed quietly in his arms.

"I hate you," you muttered against the creases of his shirt.

"I love you," he said back, and you hated him even more for it. He doesn't get to say that to you, in that way. Not in the same way he would say to Peggy.

Now, right before stepping onto the platform that will cause him to vanish from your life, he says it again.

"You do know that I love you, right?" His smile is genuine, if not a little nervous. He hoped you would be as accepting as Bucky, and send him off with just a rueful look. A gentle, final word. A sweet farewell that he can take with him as a reminder of all the times you spent together.

"I know," you breathe, relenting. Steve does not like that your eyes are glazed over, empty. Like you're not taking him in at all. You take notice of the resulting sag in his shoulders, out of character from the dignified stride he sported as he was saying goodbye to the others.

A big part of you wants to remain indignant. So what if he's hurt or uncomfortable due to your coldness? It serves him right.

"Come here," he whispers, and it comes across a silent plea. Come here? Will you, please?

You take just one small step closer, but he is already ahead, wrapping his arms around your frame. Your stony mask breaks as your cheek presses against his chest, away from his view. His chest plate glistens from your tears, but you don't have it in you to wipe them away.

When he pulls away to look down at you, his heart breaks. He cradles your face in his hands as you look up at him through wet eyelashes, and it's almost enough to make him consider staying.

But then you say, "It will all be okay, Steve." You gingerly pry his hands from your cheeks, giving them a comforting squeeze. "We will be okay."

You look behind you, where Bucky stands watching the exchange, and he offers an encouraging nod.

You take a step back, mustering everything that you possibly can, all the love you have for Steve, to give him one last genuine smile.

"Go get your girl."

Read part two here.

The way I was making myself upset while writing this - god I love angst!!! ~~~

I was gonna keep going, make it even more brutal, but I'll save that for the upcoming parts. It will have some Bucky x reader as well 🖤

God Bless America('s ass).

oh, and let me know if you wish to be tagged!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #the avengers #mcu #bucky barnes #the bolter

469 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Lost Haven (12/?)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, descriptions of sexual fantasies, smut, the angst, semi-public sex, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

You will live with me.

She didn't know why this thought simultaneously frightened and relieved her.

The truth was that she had always wanted just that.

To be with him.

To their relief, Aegon recovered quickly and remembered his lesson well, appearing no more at his brother's premises.

The state in which he returned to her that morning, the way he looked, sobbing like a small child exactly as he had done then, that summer, meant that even though she knew what he had done was wrong, so very wrong, she could not denounce or reject him.

She knew that something had simply snapped inside him and that he was terrified that she would leave him now.

Although he had thought for sure that this would be the end of them, she saw his sincere despair, what he had hidden inside for so long as well as the depth of feelings, which made her finally believe that he really loved her.

He loved her and it was a love beyond reason, deep and hot, terrifyingly dark and giving her a sense of security at the same time.

From the moment she made her choice, it seemed to her that for some reason something had changed, although she did not know why.

In her mind, they had simply started living together as a couple.

They worked together, studied together, shopped and cooked together, talked for hours in bed, made love and fell asleep in each other's embrace only to wake up the next day and start all over again.

After she turned off her phone so she wouldn't see the missed calls from her mother and Jace, a strange calm settled in her mind.

The calm before the storm.

They both knew it, but they didn't talk about it, focusing more on spending time together, enjoying the simple closeness, the touch of each other's hands, the kisses on the forehead and nose, the safe, warm embrace of their arms.

Her uncle's jealousy had prevented him from forming any kind of relationship with Robb that she could recognise as warmth, however, the fact that he had then stood up for them meant that they had no longer glared at each other with malevolent glances and both seemed to have come to terms with their presence.

She knew that there had been some sort of complete climax of his emotions that morning, and that everything he had felt had poured out along with his tears, which had for some reason made his nature and behaviour soften a little, at least in her presence.

It seemed to her at certain moments that he was a child again: not in terms of his naivety or the vocabulary he used, but something in his gaze, his touch, the way that even when they were among other people he would lay his head on her thighs, sitting on the grass with her, used to her always stroking his hair, made her feel that he was that boy again.

He seemed tired to her, but also relaxed and at ease, his manner and reaction no longer so aggressive with his existence limited to working by her side and being as close to her as possible.

She knew he was trying to recover, to pull himself together after what had happened, to understand who he was now and what he really wanted.

This theoretical calm was disturbed when Criston called him, saying that his people wanted to meet with him to discuss a few things. The expression on his face as he listened to Cole was unnatural and some part of her thought he was afraid to go back there.

He was afraid of what they all thought of him now.

"Let me go with you." She said and before he could refuse, she completed her thought. "They know we're together. Let them see that I am doing this of my own free will. That you are no deviant or rapist."

He swallowed hard at her words, looking blankly at his phone, fighting with himself in his mind.

"…only this one time. On the condition that you stay next to me all the time and don't speak. Do you understand? Even if I tell them something you don't like. You can't rebuke me in front of my men." He said coolly, looking at her carefully, and she sighed.

"Do you really think I could do this to you?" She asked in pain, seeing that he was closing himself in the stone fortress of his mind again.

Something changed in his gaze, warmth and affection flashed across his face, proof that he felt something deep inside himself at her words.

"No. Of course not." He whispered in shame, looking down at his fingers as if to remind himself that, in fact, she had never done anything to hurt him.

That she had always been on his side.

She wasn't quite sure how a mafia boss's girlfriend should present herself: she imagined girls in short leather skirts and cabaret tights, with cut-out cleavage and strong, defiant make-up.

She decided she wasn't going to pretend to be someone she wasn't and wore a simple, black, tight-fitting dress, the only one she had with her, her hair loose and falling in light waves over her shoulders.

She wondered if her uncle would comment on her appearance in any way, he, however, was immersed deep in his thoughts, clearly impatient, walking around the room.

"Ready?" He asked as she turned towards him, and she nodded.

"Let's go."

As they got into the car, midnight struck on the clock: all around them the road was empty and dark. She swallowed quietly as she looked at her fingers, wondering if she should ask.

She decided, however, that she couldn't stand it and needed to know.

"Will Alys be there too?"

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that he flinched at the mention of that name and glanced at her quickly, surprised, looking back at the road after a moment.

"No. Where did that question come from?" He asked, forcing himself to be calm, but she heard his voice tremble.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he was terrified.

That there was something between them that he didn't want her to know about.

"She told me that you were sleeping with each other. I found out from her that you overdosed." She explained, turning her gaze towards the side window, feeling an unpleasant discomfort in her heart.

The thought of their naked, sweaty bodies entwined together, their heavy breaths, her hands trailing over his skin made her feel tears under her eyelids.

She heard him draw in a loud breath, at once terrified, impatient and frustrated, his tongue licking his lower lip before he spoke his next sentence.

"There's been nothing between us for over a year. Since…" He didn't finish and she looked at him, wondering if what she was thinking had happened.

He revealed to me the name he calls you by accident.

Let's just say it slipped out to him in a moment of elation because he forgot it wasn't you lying beneath him.

She remained silent, feeling that he was tense and angry, sensing subconsciously that if she kept dragging the subject and asking more questions, he would eventually explode.

There has been nothing between us for over a year.

Although she should be relieved, her body was filled with sadness, tears one after the other running down her cheeks at the thought that instead of writing her off, meeting her, he preferred to fuck another woman, to spend time with her, to open his heart to her.

"– hey – hey, baby – I told you, there's nothing between us anymore – why are you crying? –" He asked in a shaky voice, placing his hand on hers, his voice soft and quivering as his thumb stroked her skin in a gesture he surely wanted to comfort her with.

"– I wrote to you for eight years – begging you to see me – to talk to me – and you spent that time with her – that realisation hurts me so much –" She muttered in a breaking voice, suddenly bursting into sobs, hiding her face in her free hand, the other held clenched on his.

"– baby, no – no, no, no, shhh –" He mumbled out in a panic, stopping at the side of the road, leaning over her immediately as he switched on the emergency lights.

He stroked her cheek and unbuckled her seatbelt, pulling her close to him, and though she didn't want it, she allowed him to lift her awkwardly and sit her on his lap.

She twisted, trying to find some more comfortable position as his arms locked her in a tight embrace, snuggling her face into his neck. His lips placed several warm, lingering, sticky kisses on the skin of her face before he sighed heavily, apparently trying to gather his thoughts.

"– I was afraid to meet you – I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to let you go – that I would pull you down with me – and that's exactly what happened – with her I was only fulfilling my fantasies about you, but we weren't in a relationship – we were both sleeping with other people at the time as well –" He muttered and she just listened, shocked by his words, letting his fingers comb lazily through her long hair.

"– the first woman I fucked was twenty years older than me – I guess I was looking for a reflection of my mother in her and just wanted someone to hug me – when she put her hand in my trousers, when she sat on top of me – mmm – I felt dirty – I closed my eyes then and thought of you – I imagined you lying on a towel on the beach in a bathing suit, reading a book – I imagined that you looked at me and smiled – that you held out your hand to me and told me we should go swimming – that as soon as we were submerged in the water up to your waist, I drew you to me and kissed you –"

He whispered in a trembling, breaking voice, and she just continued in his embrace, horrified and heartbroken by what she was hearing, feeling herself whooping with her own tears as she tried to catch her breath.

They both sighed as one of his hands slid down to her thigh, travelling lower and lower.

"– I imagined that you enjoyed it – that you moaned when I enclosed your buttocks in my hands – when my fingers pushed the material of your panties aside and sunk in here –" He muttered, clearly letting his fantasies carry him away, brushing his lips against her neck as his fingers slid under the material of her underwear, invading her warm womanhood, dripping and pulsing because of his words.

"– I imagined that you were leaking for me – that when I slipped my fingers into you, you were all wet – ah –" He moaned as, in keeping with his words, he teased her throbbing pussy, moist and slick under his fingers, two of them slowly sliding deep into her slit.

"– Aemond – yes –" She whimpered and they kissed, hot and passionate, panting into each other's mouths, her hips involuntarily beginning to roll back and forth to the rhythm of his hand, letting his fingertips go as deep as he desired.

His tongue burst between her sweet, puffy lips at her words with his grunt of satisfaction, his hand let go of her and reached for his belt, undoing it in a quick, nimble motion.

"– come here –" He whispered, watching with dreamy eyes as she turned in his lap, slipping her panties off her legs, feeling like she was having déjà vu.

It had looked exactly the same when he had betrayed her.

She knew he wouldn't do it this time – the almost childlike helplessness in his eyes, his wide-open mouth, his erection pulsing in his hand which he squeezed with primitive, simple strokes merely looking at her.

She settled herself over him, slowly lowering herself onto the thick head of his cock: they both sighed loudly, wrinkling their brows as if in pain, their hands stroking their cheeks and hair in some powerless attempt to soothe each other.

"– Rhaenys –" He called out to her, as if melting into the darkness that was his heart, like Hades who called out to his Persephone from the cold, terrifying underworld, unable to bear separation any longer, wanting his wife back.

She was like Cora, stolen from her mother by her own uncle, the god of death, cold as black marble, who devoured her and her light every day.

She moaned into his mouth at that thought, letting their lips melt together in greedy, loud, fiery kisses full of their saliva, their tongues colliding and licking each other, their hands clenched on their bodies refusing to let go.

A pleasant tingling sensation rippled through her lower abdomen as she let him slide deep inside her, all the way in, responding eagerly to his every sharp, sure push.

"– yes – yes, yes, yes, baby, yes –" He breathed out into her throat, thrusting his hips forward so that he slammed into her at the angle where he could give her the greatest pleasure. She hugged his neck, pressing her forehead against his, looking deeply into his eyes, seeing in them everything she wanted.

He was helpless, weak, thirsty, terrified, in love.

"– please –" He mumbled, and she snuggled into him, sinking her swollen lips into his, feeling her weeping cunt begin to throb around his erection, sucking it inside. They both groaned, letting their bodies find their own pace, with the loud splats of their bodies building their way to their fulfilment.

"– I love you – I love you –" She whispered into his mouth again, again and again, feeling his cock twitching deep inside her each time, all wet with her fleshy walls, dripping with her desire, his fingers digging hard into the soft skin of her ass letting her know he was close to his peak.

His free hand tightened on her hair and his lips pressed against hers as he came inside her, bursting into a sob the sound of which was muffled by her throat, his eyes clenched in pleasure and pain as one by one tears began to run down his cheeks red with emotion.

There were no words with which she could reassure him, explain to herself or him the relief they felt when they both finally came to terms with what had happened, the fact that there was never any going back for them, that all the bad decisions they had made were because they believed they would only be a disappointment to each other.

Meanwhile, he had found peace, solace, fulfilment in her.

His lost haven.

She cuddled him into her, letting him snuggle against her chest, his arms enclosing her in a tight grip as her hand stroked his hair and face slowly, trying to reassure him.

"– I'm here – it's alright – shhh, my love –" She whispered, her voice like the quiet hum of the sea.

She felt him tremble all over with emotion, his breath heavy and uneven, his embrace pathetically childlike, innocent, wanting only to find shelter.

They lingered like this for a long time, trailing their fingers over each other's bodies, once in a while placing a gentle, warm, soft kiss on each other's skin, his soft manhood still deep inside her. His free hand stroked her bare buttock exactly as it had been before he had forcibly taken her for himself, never to return her again.

Her heart belonged to him.

Before she slid off him she kissed his forehead and his hand found hers, squeezing it, looking straight into her eyes.

"– I've never kissed any of them – I've never fallen asleep next to any of them –" He mumbled, and she smiled, wide and genuine.

They kissed again, this time tenderly and innocently, like when they were children, eight years ago, their lips only pressed together.

She sat down on the seat next to him as he switched off the emergency lights and moved on, trying hard in the darkness to find her panties. When she finally succeeded, she put them on over her legs and sighed.

His hand found hers blindly, their fingers entwined in a warm, sweet embrace.

Her heart was filled with affection so intense that she felt like it would burst.

When they got out of his car and she saw the big blue neon sign in front of her with the words Heavenly Beach and the two palm trees standing just outside the entrance, she felt herself grow sick at the mere memory of what had happened to her there – her uncle must have seen the horror in her eyes, as he walked up to her and placed his hand on her back.

"– let's go –" He said, his hand rising from her back to her shoulder, stroking her skin with his thumb.

The security guards standing in front of the entrance made big eyes at the sight of them – or rather at the sight of her uncle – and of course let them pass without a line, muttering under their breath a quiet ‘good evening, boss’.

He, however, did not answer them, not even bestowing a single glance on them, stepping into his role – when she looked at his face it was like stone, his gaze blank and dark.

Exactly as it was then, that day, during his father's birthday, when they were talking on the pier.

He let her walk in front of him between the people, but his fingers touched her waist, her shoulder, or her back again and again, as if he wanted to give her a sense of security, the fact that he was close and nothing was threatening her.

She swallowed hard as she saw that people sitting at tables or dancing on the dance floor were looking at them, saying something to each other, intrigued and terrified.

She wondered if they had just talked to each other about the fact that she was the famous girl he was related to and liked to fuck.

Although she shouldn't, she felt amusement and pride at the thought.

For her he had given up everything.

For her he defied his grandfather.

For her, he became a different kind of monster.

Her Hades.

When they reached the lodge where his men and associates were apparently seated, everyone froze: there were young girls hugging most of them, some looking more defiant, others sweet, laughing loudly, looking at her with big eyes.

On the table, besides whisky and vodka, lay a white powder that they were apparently just snorting through their noses.

She stopped and looked at her uncle, not knowing what to do or where to sit, after a moment, however, several men moved over, making room for them, seating themselves on the other side.

"– come –" He whispered in her ear so that she barely heard it, his hand touching her back.

So she sat up first, not knowing where to look, and he sat down beside her, his hand immediately on the side of her waist, holding her close.

"– why are there such delays in payment? – I warned your father that one more situation like this and I would take over the Black Storm – I knew he had problems with reading, but I didn't know he had them with counting as well –" Her uncle hissed harshly and coldly, looking over the gathered with a gaze from which she herself shuddered, yet feeling no fear.

His thumb stroked her waist almost invisibly, but she felt it, his gesture indicating that she shouldn't worry about it and let him do his thing.

One of the girls twisted in place, crossing her legs, bending over slightly, probably because she wanted her rather impressive cleavage to be seen better. She smiled in a way that was probably meant to be seductive, but she wasn't sure it impressed her uncle.

When she looked at his face she could see that he was bored and impatient.

"– my father is not happy with the fact that you have assigned him so few people – by having so much goods coming through the club, he thinks he deserves more protection –" She said, fiddling with her necklace with the logo of some expensive, tacky shop.

"– Floris –" Her uncle began, rather calmly and gently. "– don't piss me off –"

The girl swallowed hard, her hand frozen in a half-motion, as if she wondered if she had overheard herself.

"– your father got as much of my people as I saw fit – if he has a grievance, let him sell the club back to me and I'll pay him off – the deal was different – several of my boys complained about you and your sisters not knowing the boundaries of good manners and that you make them drive around town like princesses in their free time –" He said coldly, complete silence all around him.

She looked at him in disbelief, seeing the fire in his gaze, his jaw clenched in rage, his fingers on her waist involuntarily digging into her skin under her dress.

Her heart was pounding like mad.

Floris licked her full lower lip, clearly thinking hard about something.

"– is that your famous niece? – her persona is already legendary in our circles –" She said, something in her uncle's gaze that frightened her.

His face was suddenly indifferent, his irises completely black and empty: she thought he looked like a predator who was just looking at his prey.

She involuntarily touched his thigh, wanting to reassure him, but he didn't look at her, apparently afraid that he would then step out of his role.

"– what's your name? –" She turned suddenly towards her, all eyes on them.

She froze, not knowing what to do or say, for she was not supposed to speak after all – she looked at her uncle, his gaze fixed on her face, full of pain, rage, but also affection.

She felt his hand stroke her waist, his wordless permission for her to speak.

She looked around at the faces around her, men and women huddled against their chests, staring at her as if she were some rare object in a museum they were looking at from behind glass.

"– Rhaenys –" She whispered.

She felt his hand on the back of her head, and with a soft movement he forced her to lean in, nuzzling her face into the hollow of his neck, as if he wanted to protect her.

"– you will get one more of my men, but no more driving you shopping or to the beautician – my men are not your dogs –" He said coolly, but already a little more politely, as if he hoped that if he complied with her request, she would leave her alone.

Floris wanted to say something, but was interrupted by another man, tanned and handsome, with dark hair elegantly combed back and an evenly trimmed beard.

"– we have a problem with one of the deliveries – several packages are stuck at the border – the police are bribed, but the prosecutor's office is snooping around and trying to get the secret service involved –" He said, and her uncle sighed heavily, hugging her closer to him, putting his hand on her head so that he covered her ear.

He didn't want her to listen.

"– talk to who you need to talk to, Cole – we're not short of money, but we're short of trusted people – we need someone in the prosecutor's office – let them focus on the human traffickers, not us –" He said, but she heard it as if through a fog, the blinking, bright lights around her tiring her already exhausted eyes, so she just closed them.

She could hear conversations and music all around her, felt her uncle glancing down at her, stroking her back, apparently wanting her to just fall asleep in his embrace. As a natural reflex, she placed her hand on his chest, where his heart was beating, and he did not push her away.

She could feel him smoking a cigarette, the smell of his black leather jacket, his aftershave and his own scent calmed her, making her finally do what he wanted and fall asleep.

She shuddered when she felt him shake her gently, there was no one around them on the couch. He took a strand of her hair behind her ear, his lips placing a soft, tender kiss on her forehead.

"– we'll sleep here in my office and drive back to the hotel in the morning – okay? –" He whispered, and she only nodded.

She let him take her in his arms and lift her up, holding her buttocks. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging her cheek to his, seeing the last drunken people sitting at the bar and dancing on the dance floor, barely able to stay on their feet, as if through a haze.

They walked into some dark corridor, then she heard the clack of keys and the sound of a door opening. When they got inside it was completely dark until he turned on the desk lamp – he walked over to the sofa and laid her on it, pulling his leather jacket off over her head.

He turned off the light and came to her, laying on the cramped space behind her back, covering their bodies with his jacket, his face snuggled into the hollow of her neck, his hands closed on her breasts.

"– sleep – you're safe with me –" He whispered, and she simply tightened her fingers on his arms, surrounded by his wonderfully familiar warmth.

"– you're my Hades – and I'm your Persephone – that's how I see us –" She hummed, half asleep, and he froze, cuddling her into himself harder.

"– Persephone –" She heard him hum next to her ear and closed her eyes, feeling at peace.

His Queen of the Underworld.

She thought she had only been sleeping for a few minutes when the alarm clock on his phone snapped them out of their deep slumber, but it turned out that it had actually been several hours. They left the club through the back exit to which her uncle had the keys and got into his car, barely conscious and tired.

"– I need to get a coffee at some station –" He muttered, starting the engine, and she nodded.

She couldn't believe that the boy who sat next to her now and the one she saw then, at that table, were the same person.

They stopped at the station to buy themselves something to drink and to eat. Her boyfriend stepped behind her, placing his hands on her hips, leaning over her ear.

"– look how many lollipops you have, a whole lot to choose from – I'll buy you some if you want –" He murmured, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, and she smiled involuntarily, feeling a pleasant warmth in her belly at his words.

"– strawberry –" She said and heard him smile too, satisfied.

"– I'll have coffee, tea, two sandwiches, this strawberry lollipop and this candy bracelet –" He said and she hugged him like a teddy bear, feeling only joy, only peace.

She didn't know how it was possible that they were so happy, that in some fucked up, unexplained way it was working.

They, together.

It seemed so right.

As they moved further down the road it was just beginning to dawn. Eating her lollipop and looking around it was only after a while that she noticed they were driving the wrong way.

"– where are we going? – you need to turn back –" She said, looking behind her, feeling a sudden attack of panic and terror.

No, no, no, no, please, God, no.

Her uncle looked at her surprised, his mouth parted wide when he realised what had frightened her.

"– no – no, baby, easy – we'll go back to the hotel, but later – there's one place I want to visit on the way – nothing bad, I promise –" He said, squeezing her hand in his, but she remained uneasy until she realised that she had seen the landscapes they passed before.

They were driving to the sea.

She felt a tightness in her throat as he parked close to the beach, on the other side of which was the large villa that now belonged to him, where they had then spent their entire holiday.

As soon as they got out of the car she was struck by the pleasant, crisp sea breeze, the squeal of seagulls flying over their heads and that familiar hum. She moved ahead thinking how when she was a child it all seemed so much bigger to her, reaching into infinity, as if this sea had no end.

She felt the tears one by one run down her face as she heard their childish voices in the back of her head, the precious coins, shells, cartridges and bottles they found, thinking themselves explorers.

She pulled off her shoes as she stepped onto the sand, wanting to feel it under her feet – it was pleasantly warm and soft, slightly damp, exactly as she remembered it. She only stopped at the shore, the salt water washing over the toes of her feet, the sun rising lazily over the horizon.

She felt his arms embrace her shoulders, snuggling her back into his body, his lips placed a soft, gentle kiss on her neck.

"– in my fantasies, I always imagined that I would take you here again – that I would be standing with you, as I am now, watching the sun rise –" He said, she heard him smile, while at the same time his voice was breaking, as if he was as moved as she was.

Her fingers clenched on his arms at the thought, her hair blown by the light breeze.

"– have you often thought about what we have lost here? –" She asked quietly, looking far ahead, thinking that somehow a new day had dawned for them too.

She swallowed hard when his fingers ran over the inside of her wrist, tracing the thin line of her scar.

"– relentlessly – it was like torture – thinking of hundreds of scenarios – what would have happened if I hadn't been your uncle, if my father hadn't been submerged in all that shit, if I hadn't lost an eye then, if Rhaenyra hadn't taken you away from there that day –" He said with a regret from which she felt a sting in her heart.

She looked at him over her shoulder, and his full lips, in some natural, sweet reflex of tenderness, placed a warm, soft kiss on her forehead.

"– I took you from your mother – I forced you to sink into the darkness with me –" He whispered, stroking her silky cheek with his thumb, something in the look of his healthy eye from which she felt a pleasant pulsing between her thighs.

"– it was my choice this time –"

He swallowed hard at her words, something in his gaze from which she felt a shiver, as if he had made a decision.

"– I want to be the father of your children – I want us to be a family – to have a home – a future –" He whispered, letting her go slowly – as she turned, he saw that he had knelt down.

"– Aemond, what are you –" She gasped, terrified, unsure if he really wanted to do what she was thinking, his gaze hot and pleading, filled with tears.

"– I want it, Rhaenys – fuck, I've always wanted it – I don't give a shit about this country, about the law, about morality, about good manners, about how and why we're related –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, looking at her with eyes big with terror and affection, making her heart stop in her throat.

"– but if I pay the right people, if we get a dispensation, we can have a religious marriage, the one in the church – I don't give a damn if I have to bribe the Pope himself and all the cardinals in the Vatican, I don't care how long it takes – please –" He sobbed, clamping his hands on her waist, pressing his face into her stomach, trying to catch his breath.

She swallowed hard, feeling her hands tremble, still raised in the air, tears one by one running down her face red with emotion.

After all, they had been together for such a short time, she thought.

And yet they had loved each other all their lives.

"– yes –" She whispered.

She saw him lift his head, meeting her gaze, his lips parted in a heavy breath of shock and disbelief.

"– do you mean it? –"

She nodded, not knowing what more she could say, feeling helpless and ashamed.

"– we've completely lost our minds –" She mouthed, wiping her red face, trying to calm down as he got up quickly from his knees, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket.

She involuntarily burst out laughing when she saw that he had taken out the candy bracelet he had bought her earlier at the station.

"– what? – they didn't have rings – I had a difficult task –" He grunted, putting the bracelet on her wrist, sweet and colourful.

She looked up at him with a smile as he pulled her close, looking at her with a gaze in which she saw only love.

"– then you get to pick out a real ring for yourself, and this is something you can eat – it's a win-win situation –" He purred, and as she threw her arms around his neck they kissed tenderly, melting their lips together in a warm, moist kiss.

She stroked his cheek as he pressed his forehead against hers, both of them looking sideways towards the building that had once belonged to his father.

"That's where we'll raise our children. One day."

They walked the distance to the house where they had spent that holiday on foot along the beach, holding hands, taking exactly the same route as every day when they seemed to be the happiest children in the world.

When they finally arrived at their destination and her uncle opened the door with the keys he had taken out of his trouser pocket, she was struck by how, although everything looked the same, it was completely different. The main hall and corridor seemed cramped to her, the smell inside was stifling, indicative of the fact that no one had gone inside for many years.

They both made their way up the stairs – she involuntarily headed for the room that belonged to her at the time.

She looked inside, feeling some strange kind of discomfort and fear, as if she were about to see something terrifying. However, she saw before her an ordinary, bright little room with white wooden furniture, the bed she had slept on for the first few nights, a desk, a few chairs and a wardrobe.

She approached it with a smile, seeing that it was, as always, slightly ajar, the long, old gowns of Alicent sticking out of it.

"– I always thought it was the tentacles of a monster – that's what it looked like at night – I was afraid someone was hiding inside and would devour me –" She said, stepping closer, tucking the soft material into her fingers, feeling her uncle's presence behind her.

She heard him swallow hard, his fingers running over her back in an affectionate gesture.

"– let's go to my room –"

She stared at the bookshelf filled with small volumes of Mighty Vhagar stories panting along with him, hearing his grunts and sighs of pleasure at her ear each time with the soft, lazy thrust of his hips he sank into her moist, warm flesh, welcoming him home.

They were bare; the embrace of their arms held them close, as if they felt subconsciously that they needed to experience this together, here, in this place, to take something that had been taken from them. Her fingers traveled along his neck and down his spine to his buttocks, kneading them in her palms, his low groan of pleasure and the shudder that shook him testified to what he thought of her touch.

"– who took you for the first time? – hm? –" He breathed out into her ear, stroking her soft hair, slowly quickening his pace.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting his full, thirsty mouth find the crook of her neck, her leaking pussy opening again and again on his hard, swollen erection, filled to the brim with him.

"– you – here, on this bed –" She whispered and felt his cock throb harder inside her, delighted by her response. His fingers clamped down on the soft skin of her cheeks, forcing her to look at him, his mouth wide open, his gaze clouded with pleasure and something else, darker, deeper.

"– are you sure? – not some Robb? –" He hissed, something in his words sounding both threatening and despairing at the same time, his deep desire to regain everything in his mind he had lost over these eight years.

She shook her head, combing her fingers through his short hair, spreading her thighs wider in front of him, rocking her hips in response to his lustful, sharp thrusts, the slapping of their bodies against each other loud and shameless, sticky with her moisture.

"– no – Alys, Robb – it was just a dream, my love –" She whispered. His brow arched in pain as he leaned towards her, his puffy, moist lips finding hers in a sweet, tender, warm kiss, at once childlike and mature, full of affection.

They groaned into each other's throats as his wide hands clamped down on the soft skin of her buttocks, his hips began to slam into her slick, throbbing pussy as if he wanted to erase any trace that deep inside her could ever be another man.

"– I will never let you go –" He breathed out, their tongues meeting halfway, licking the very tips of each other, making them both gasp with delight.

She threw her arms around his neck and let him sink into her mouth, his body pressing her to the bed, which creaked loudly beneath their silhouettes writhing in ecstasy, the slaps and clicks of her moisture so loud that its sound brought her to the edge of her peak.

"– uncle – take care of me – ah –" She mewled and threw her head back, moaning from the sweet delight that shook her body, his loud, surprised gasp told her that he had come too, his body froze in stillness, wanting to focus only on the greedy pulsing of their bodies around each other.

She felt his warm seed inside her, a pleasant tingling in her lips, in her nipples and the corners of her fingers at the thought that her own uncle loved her a little too much.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, cuddled into each other: her head was lying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the fingers of his hand roaming her naked body from her shoulders, to her head, neck and back, making her shiver.

"– our parents will never accept this –" She whispered, stroking his stomach with her hand. She heard him sigh softly, his fingers combing through her hair.

"– it's too late anyway –"

Although they were terribly tired and could barely see with their eyes, trying to stay awake while they worked, they were both happy. Even though no one understood the meaning of the bracelet on her wrist, he kept playing with it when he said or asked her something, making her walk around smiling all day.

And then she noticed her mother in the distance talking to her professor.

"Miss Strong. Would you please come over?" He called out, and she froze, feeling her heart stop beating.

She'd endured anything, the screams of Daemon and Jace, but not this.

Not her.

When she looked at her uncle, she saw panic in his eyes.

She lowered her head and moved forward, unable to even look at her.

They sat down in one of the tents where the workers usually rested during breaks, but now it was empty, and she knew that this conversation could not be heard by anyone.

Her mother's hand clamped down on hers as soon as he sat down next to her, its familiar touch making her feel tears welling under her eyelids and a deep, all-encompassing shame.

"Why aren't you answering your phone? Do you know what it feels like to die of worry and then hear that your child has turned up with a gangster at his club? What did he do to you that you do things like that, get sucked into this world?" She asked in pain, and she remained silent, looking at her legs, feeling her whole body was shaking.

When she finally looked at her, what she said slipped out of her involuntarily.

"Then, during that holiday by the sea, before he lost his eye. We kissed. I was even his girlfriend for a while. He let me sleep in his bed when I was afraid of the dark." She muttered, feeling the tears of shame run down her face one by one.

Rhaenyra shook her head, looking at her as if she did not understand what she had just heard.

"It never ended between us, Mum. Quite the contrary. We sleep together. We are together." She sobbed out with difficulty, and her mother took her hand from hers, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What did he do to you, what did he put into your head to make you do such awful things? He is using you to show everyone that he has me and Daemon in his grasp. That he rules this city because neither I nor his grandfather can do anything to him now. He brags about you like a trophy. Good God, this is not how I raised you." She said in a quivering voice full of regret and disappointment, from which her heart broke.

She pressed her lips together, playing with the bracelet on her wrist in a nervous gesture, seeing a scar beneath it, his two faces, two parts of his love.

Light and Darkness.

Kora and Persephone.

Her mother had to come to terms with the fact that from now on she would spend part of the year in Hades.

She drew in air loudly, whooping with tears, not knowing what to say.

The words he loves me sounded so cheesy and naïve.

"I love him, Mom. I want to stay by his side."

Her mother shook her head, as if her words had made something inside her snap.

"He will destroy you. He'll drown you in his own greed like tar. He's already done it. He manipulated you into leaving us, your own family."

"It was my decision." She said in pain, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her breath heavy and ragged.

"You have completely lost your mind." She said coldly, rising from her seat, making her freeze all over, feeling a squeeze in her throat. "The door to your home will always remain open for you when your common sense returns. You are an adult and sooner or later you will feel the consequences of your choice. You will never be safe again, you will never be able to go anywhere alone, he will create a cage for you, just like…"

"… just like the one Daemon created for us? I've managed to get used to it. I, at least, don't pretend to be free." She growled, surprised by her own words.

Her mother pressed her lips together in pain and walked out, leaving her with a complete emptiness in her mind.

She felt awful – as she walked out, she felt the sun hit her hard, her face flooded with tears. Her uncle approached her quickly, horror and concern on his face.

"– what did she say? – no, no, calm down – calm down, shhh, come here –" He muttered as she went into a state of complete panic, covering her face with her hands, bursting into such a strong sob that she felt like she was about to spit out her own lungs.

She was unable to control herself or calm down, everything around her seemed to be spinning, his warm hands and arms cradling her was the only thing that kept her from falling to her knees.

You will never be safe again.

You will never be able to go anywhere alone again.

He will create a cage for you.

But wasn't that the life she had lived for as long as she could remember?

Her father, Daemon, her uncle.

She was never free.

She just didn't realise it as a child.

That night they only embraced, but there was something beautiful about it: the thought that he knew she didn't want sex now, but his closeness and tenderness, his broad hands stroking her back and hair, his full lips kissing again and again her forehead and nose.

"When I live with you, will I be able to go out alone?" She asked quietly, and he swallowed hard, running his fingers down her back, surprised by her question.

"Well… it depends where and during what time of day." He said uncertainly, tense.

She pressed her hands tighter against his warm skin – it was so hot he was only wearing black tracksuit bottoms.

"To the shop. To the bookshop. To class." She whispered, his lips placing another warm kiss on her forehead, clearly wanting to soften what was about to leave his throat.

"I'm constantly being watched. People who don't wish me well probably already know that you're not just a chick I fuck. You are my weakness and if I lose my guard, they will try to take advantage of that. I would prefer to keep the risk that something could happen to you to a complete minimum." He explained hesitantly, brushing his fingertips against her collarbone.

"So no." She said regretfully, feeling an unpleasant chokehold in her throat at the thought that she had escaped from one cage only to be locked in another.

She heard him sigh as he lifted her chin with his finger so that she looked at him.

"If something were to happen to you because of me. How would I explain it to your mother? To Daemon? How would I continue to live with it? We can go to your classes together. You can be driven to the shop and other places by my people, who will just wait for you in the car and not bother you. We will work something out. You are not my prisoner, but I have to keep you safe in some way. Do you understand me?" He asked, and she looked at him.

"Are you going to check my phone?"

"No."

"How can I be sure?"

"I trust you."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, his fingers tracing gently across her cheek making her feel a pleasant shiver run down her spine.

"I want you to take me with you when you run your errands."

"Absolutely not." He replied immediately, his face curved in an expression full of annoyance and frustration.

"Why? You did it last time." She muttered in pain, feeling rejected, like a small child who could not be trusted with an adult task.

"It was a mistake. I exposed you." He said regretfully, his thumb running over the line of her jaw. "It will never happen again."

"So you're going to come back in the morning to fuck me, have breakfast, go for a walk with Vhagar, sleep off, and then disappear again, leaving me alone?" She asked with despair, unsure if she could bear what he asked of her.

She saw him press his lips together, horrified at how it sounded from her mouth, certainly simply not knowing what to say.

"What do you expect from me?" He asked quietly. She was silent for a moment, feeling the quick pounding of her heart.

"Honesty. If I have to endure this in silence, I want to know what's going on. I want you to tell me what's happening in your clubs and pubs, what problems you're having, what you're facing, who you're seeing. Because if you can't give me either honesty, freedom or choice, then there's no hope for us."

"Would you leave otherwise?" He asked, looking at her with his eyebrows arched in pain, stroking her warm cheek with his palm.

"If you had locked me away, told me nothing and treated me as your consolation prize after a hard day? What would you do if I made you sit in my flat, while I met with Robb? You would certainly be a happy, fulfilled man then." She said coldly, making him swallow hard, lowering his gaze in shame.

"In that case, I'll tell you everything." He whispered.

She shook her head and grinned under her breath, feeling tears under her eyelids.

"You know what the worst thing is? That I don't believe you."

He looked at her, his eyes big and filled with suffering, as if something in those words of hers had hurt him particularly badly.

"I'm trying."

She felt her heart squeeze at his words, which were so simple, so direct.

So sincere.

Because, after all, she knew they were true.

"I know."

He licked his lower lip and drew in air, as if he was thinking very hard about what he wanted to say, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to describe it properly.

"I get the feeling that whatever I do – no matter how hard I try – it's not enough for you. You always want more. As if it were that simple. To protect you at the same time, to meet all your needs, to not come into conflict with Daemon and to be a good student. I stand caught between dozens of things and get lost in it. The right choice in one context is the wrong one in another. I don't know what to do to please you anymore." He confessed in a trembling voice filled with regret, sadness and fatigue, from which she felt ashamed.

While her feelings and thoughts were valid, she realised on hearing his words that she had put an enormous amount of pressure on him without even thinking about how he would be able to bring all these things together and at the same time make their world not fall apart.

"You're right. I'm sorry." She whispered, his eyes growing wide in surprise, as if he hadn't expected to hear that from her. "I know how hard you're trying. I'm proud of you and I love you more than ever before. The reason I have a lot of concerns is because I realise how difficult our situation is. I just want us to succeed."

"I want us to succeed too." He muttered. "It's the only thing I want. But please, baby, try to understand me."

There was something sweet and natural about the way their bodies snuggled into each other and embraced, wanting to comfort and soothe each other, to give them the feeling that they were trying to find their way together.

She decided that there was no turning back for her now.

Parting from him would mean that she would always be dying in agony.

When their work ended, their professor thanked and congratulated them all, telling them that all the objects they found would be exhibited in the castle museum after conservation.

Her fiancé was tired, but also happy: after just a few days there he was able to work independently, knew the procedures and was able to find his way in this rather chaotic world.

The oldest thing he found were the remains of a beautiful medieval steel dagger, of which he even took a photo as a souvenir.

She thought fondly that their childhood play had turned into a passion.

They were both excited at the thought of her moving into his apartment. It was in the city centre in a very nice, modern high-rise building and was surprisingly large.

When she stepped inside, she noticed a huge space stretching out in front of her: the gigantic living room was decorated with nice modern dark wood furnitures. A big sofa, bookshelves and a TV was practically all that was there – one of the walls was composed of only windows, making the whole room seem incredibly bright.

Adjacent to the living room was the kitchen on one side, while on the other stretched a small corridor leading to other rooms and the bathroom.

"Where is Vhagar?" She asked, not seeing her or her bedding. Her uncle looked at her surprised, placing their bags on the floor.

"At Helaena's. She took care of her while we were away. She'll bring her back tonight." He explained and nodded for her to follow him.

He opened one of the rooms in front of her, which looked like a gym and storage for things that didn't fit in the other rooms.

"It can be your room. So you can run away from me when you want and all that. I'll organise a gym in the basement, it's quite spacious." He hummed, running his hand over her back. She looked up at him and nodded.

"I've ordered a removal team for your house. They should bring everything tomorrow if they don't encounter any difficulties." He said, heading towards the kitchen. "I don't have anything to eat. We have to go shopping."

They spent the rest of the day lazily – they cooked the simplest spaghetti and ate it while watching TV – there was a programme on ancient Egyptian history that was airing at the time, which piqued their interest, so they just spread out on the sofa with their bowls and listened to a lecture by one of Egypt's most famous archaeologists as he spoke about the pyramid at Giza.

It was so wonderfully normal.

She felt uncomfortable when Helaena brought Vhagar – she didn't know where to look, thinking with shame that she must have thought she was a complete idiot after trying to take her own life by living with the man who did this to her in the first place.

"Are you two together?" She asked softly, and her brother nodded.

"I'm glad. Take care of each other." She said, and she felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she was the first person to wish them well.

Her uncle looked at her, a gentle smile on his face that made her hot.

Hades and Persephone.

"We will."

_____

Author's note: My husband often asks me when we argue what I expect from him and describes his feelings about how the situation looks from his perspective. He doesn't do it maliciously, and it helps me understand that sometimes I really want something different than what I say and that there is often a lot of truth in his words. I didn't know for a long time how to lead the conversation between Aemond and Rhaenys at the very end when they talk about their future and difficult topics and it turned out that the best scripts are written by life, lol.

277 notes · View notes

lqveharrington · 10 months

Text

Silver Roses & Fallen Roses

2: The Capitol Zoo (masterlist for series)

summary: With the Games getting closer, Coriolanus must get his tribute to trust him. But, who knew that the Capitol Zoo would give your relationship with him issues.

pairing: young!Coriolnaus Snow x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy, coriolanus being manipulative, coriolanus hurts reader (on accident), death, mentions of death, mentions of blood, a little fluff, ANGST, grandma’am being protective, italics are flashbacks

word count: 5.2k+

a/n: this might be one of the longer pieces i’ve written in a while. this chapter is definitely a lot and it took so long to finish. things are starting to change within their relationship, and i will advise, it will go downhill from here.

Red. Rouge. The color could be and mean many things. It could be love, the color of the Academy uniform, or rage. It could be strength, revenge, or a shade of lipstick. But in this case, red meant jealousy.

You have always hated jealousy as a trait. It was never a pretty sight. In fact, you could only recount two times you were ever jealous in your life.

Once was two years ago, before you and Coriolanus were ever dating.

Funnily enough, you were jealous of Clemensia.

Dean Highbottom announced another research project that was worth 40% of your semester grade. Typically, you and Coriolanus were paired up together for assignments like these. However, you were given random pairings. You were happy when Highbottom pulled out your name and Sejanus’. It had been a while since you two worked together. Yet, when the next two names pulled out were Coriolanus and Clemensia, you felt an uneasy emotion stirring inside. One you have never felt before.

Everyone switched seats to be seated near their partners. Sadly, Sejanus sat far from you, causing you to gather your things to move. Within that same moment, Clemensia slid into the seat you once occupied, adding another strike to the emotion settling in you.

“Y/N,” Sejanus smiled at you, letting you take your seat. “I’m relieved I got to be partners with you.”

“You and me both.” You return the smile, slipping a clean sheet of paper out. “Shall we get started?”

As soon as you started to come up with ideas, your gaze drifted toward the opposite end of the room, watching Coriolanus and Clemensia work together. They seemed like they were having fun working with one another. Clemensia grabbed his forearm at a joke Coriolanus made, making your blood boil. You knew you shouldn't feel this way over your two best friends, but when it came to being millimeters away from your blond, it shook you.

“Are you… Okay?” Sejanus poked your shoulder, a concerned expression etched across his face. “Your pen looks like it’s going to explode with the way you’re gripping it.”

You look away from the sight right before Coryo looks over. “Sorry, I was… Distracted.”

“I bet.” He chuckles, earning a curious look from you.

“What do you mean?”

Sejanus tilts his head in your direction, making a subtle gesture to the blond. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.” You frown, scrawling nonsense on the paper. “I was merely looking at them.”

“With a scowl on your face.” The curly-haired male pointed out. You flush at the observation, rubbing your face. “I doubt anything will happen, you two are as thick as thieves.”

Your eyes return to Coriolanus after listening to Sejanus’ words, meeting his water colored eyes. You smile at him, earning one back before Clemensia stole his attention again. With a fading smile and the unfamiliar feeling settling in your stomach again, you focus on the work given.

When Dean Highbottom released your class, you bid a quick bye to Sejanus before heading to the courtyard. The weather was fairly nice, and all the other students were already filling the area. You make your way toward the willow tree planted by the courtyard’s corner. It was the same place you always were, reading a book. Usually Coriolanus was with you so you could read to him, but you assumed he would stay with Clemensia.

Opening the book to where you left off, your focus was solely on the book and trying to push the feeling away, not realizing Coriolanus was just a few feet away from you.

“Where’d you go? I was looking for you.” He jogged the last few steps.

“I figured you were to hang out with Clemmie, since you’re suddenly all lovey-dovey with her.” You mutter out, not looking up.

“Excuse me?” He took a seat next to you, giving you an incredulous look. “I was not lovey-dovey with Clemensia.”

“Yes, you were.” You frown again, taking a quick glance at him. “You were the entire class.”

“Now why were you watching us instead of working on your project with Sejanus, beautiful?” Coriolanus took your chin with his thumb and pointer, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“You have no right to call me that at the moment.” You push his hand away, shoving your book back into your bag. “Good bye.”

He studies your features for a bit, piecing the pieces together. “You’re jealous.”

“What?” You whip your head at him, using an accusation kind of tone. “I am not jealous of you and Clemensia.”

“You are jealous.” Coryo smirks in your direction as you furiously flush red. “That’s just confirmation.”

“I’m not jealous, Coriolanus.” You cross your arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You really are jealous.” He raises a brow when you say his full first name. “You just have to admit it.”

“I’m not jealous of you two. I’ve never been jealous in my entire life.” You stand, Coriolanus following. “So how can I possibly be jealous of you and your blossoming relationship with Clemensia—”

“Just say that you’re jealous.” He puts a hand behind your back as he guides you through the courtyard. “You’re jealous that she’s going to spend more time with me, and that I’ll replace you with her as my favorite person…”

“I’m your favorite person?” Your eyes slowly light up, trying your best not to show it.

“Only if you say you’re jealous.”

“Never.” You lift your chin a little higher. “I’m not jealous.”

“What a shame.” He leaves your side for a second, turning around to face you. “All you have to do is say you’re jealous or I’ll go find—”

“Fine.” You mumble, looking away. “I’m jealous.”

“What was that, beautiful? Couldn’t hear you.” Coryo got a bit closer, leaning toward you.

“I’m jealous.” You shut your eyes, earning an airy laugh from him.

Coriolanus pulled you into a small hug, pecking the top of your head. “Cute.”

The second time you were ever jealous was at this moment in time.

You were told by Tigris that Coryo went to talk to his tribute earlier this morning. What you did not expect was him being in the zoo cage with his tribute.

All you wanted was to have breakfast and leave, but your father made you watch the live casting.

You blankly stared at the host of the Hunger Games as you caught Coriolanus’ platinum blond in the background of the television.

“That’s right! All twenty-four of them— What in the gem of Panem? Is he..? That’s an Academy rouge, no?”

Multiple emotions gnawed on the inside of you. You were terrified that something was going to happen to him in the cage, but at the same time he was looking at her as if his life depended on it.

“Excuse me! Hello, sir! Yes, you, in the red. Who are you and why are you in there with them? We’re live.” Flickerman gestures to the camera as it focuses on Coriolanus.

You study your boyfriend’s face, realizing he was talking to Lucy Gray.

“Isn’t that something?” Your father remarked. “Now why would your boyfriend be in the cage along with the other tributes?”

The look on your face never leaves as Flickerman continues to ask questions concerning Coriolanus’ safety. After a few seconds, Coriolanus slips a flower behind the girl’s ear. It wasn’t just any flower. It was one of Grandma’am’s white roses.

He takes Lucy Gray’s hand and gets closer to the camera. They started to answer questions Flickerman was asking and that look Coryo was giving his tribute never left his face.

At this point, all you could see was red.

Coriolanus never gave you one of Grandma’am’s beautiful roses or looked at you like he was so ever in love to be near you. And what completely set you off was the way Lucy Gray leaned into your boyfriend’s figure, Coriolanus wrapping an arm around her waist.

You rolled your eyes at his gesture, standing from your seat on the couch. “Turn that off. It’ll only do damage to the household’s eyes.”

Your father raises his eyebrows at you, shutting the television off.

Taking your bag and fixing your Academy uniform, you leave the Lovett Manor.

You enter the car that was taking you to the Academy, muttering a good morning to the driver.

“Are you okay, Miss Lovett?”

“I’m fine.” You look out the window, slowly passing the trees decorating your driveway.

A beat passes.

“How can he do that?” You ask the driver, fiddling with your silver necklace.

“Do what?”

You huff, twisting the chain. “Be so close to a tribute.”

“He is smart, Miss Lovett. He might be strategizing with her to win the games. Isn’t your father’s deal still on despite the change for the Plinth prize?”

“I guess.” You mumble out a response, jealousy continuing to bubble as your thoughts keep going back to the pair. “I called his cousin to see if Coryo and I could walk together today, but she said he was talking to his tribute. I guess talking to your tribute involves holding your hand and tucking important roses behind their ear.”

The rest of the car trip was silent, only the sounds of passing cars filling the space.

Arriving at the Academy, you thanked the driver and headed into the building. You weren’t one for letting comments and looks get to you by others, but it seemed as if everyone was judging you today. There were whispers everywhere you turned and points in your direction, only provoking your current mood.

“Miss Lovett, if I can see you.” Dean Highbottom calls for you before you enter his class, making you curious.

“Yes, sir?” You clutch your bag a little tighter.

He sighs, “Did you somehow convince Mr Snow to talk to his tribute which caused him to be put into the zoo cage?”

“No. I haven’t talked to Coriolanus at all today.” Your face is as hard as stone, showing zero emotion. “Why? Is he in trouble?”

“Oh, most definitely, Miss Lovett.” He pauses, seeming as if he was going to add something else but refrained. “I would suggest you take your seat, classes are about to start.”

You enter the classroom, not questioning your professor any longer. Silently take your seat next to Sejanus, frowning at the empty seat to your left.

Time agonizingly passed on. Highbottom gave out a textbook assignment which, he said, would take the majority of the class. It would be until forty minutes later that Coriolanus showed up to class. By this time, you were annoyed at the fact he was late. He was never late. And being late to class for talking to a tribute just made the situation worse.

The doors slammed open as Coriolanus walked inside, taking a few seconds to look for your figure. You never dared to look up at his icy stare, doing your best to focus on the papers in front of you.

“Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow.” Dean Highbottom did not bother to look up. “Which amongst them endangers Capitol students—”

“What, who?” Coriolanus interjects, stopping his movements.

“You and your dear Miss Lovett.” He retaliates. “I’m meeting with the Gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor immediately.”

You look up at the mention of your name. What did he do that could possibly endanger you?

Coriolanus stood by his seat, deciding to argue with the Dean. “You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away.”

“I’m putting insubordination as well.” Highbottom mutters, scratching the violated rules onto a paper.

Arachne looks at Coriolanus with distaste, placing her pen down. “Introducing her to people? Holding her hand when you have a girlfriend, Coryo? You make it look as if we’re one of the same as those animals.”

The grip on your pen tightened at her unneeded comments. The red encasing every fiber of your body once more as your classmates argued. You really started to hate Lucy Gray.

“Coriolanus didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.” Sejanus jumps in to defend his best friend.

“I don’t need your help Sejanus.” Coryo lowers his voice, taking his seat next to you.

He laced his hand with your left, making you freeze.You glance at him but don’t meet his eyes. You purse your lips and remove your hand from his, pushing it away from your lap.

You could feel his stare from your side, making you shift uncomfortable at the now high tension between you.

If Coriolanus had been with you earlier that morning, you would’ve welcomed his touch. However, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of doing something highly dangerous then coming back straight to you. Especially with the addition of being close with such a tribute.

Yes, you wanted to feel his comfort, and yes, you regretted not staying the night at his penthouse. But right now you couldn’t look at him without thinking of what you saw earlier.

Coriolanus hid a scoff at your behavior, choosing to rest his hands on the desk instead. He didn’t like to be ignored by you. You were his and obviously something altered your mindset if you acted like this.

Suddenly, Dr. Gaul appeared from the top of the classroom, slowly descending the stairs while reciting a kind of poem.

“Snow fell down in the cage. It fell down in the cage, but it landed.” Her eyes found the blond’s face, noticing his attitude to the female to his right. One she noticed during the reaping the other day too.

A small silence filled the room while Coriolanus slowly shifted his gaze to the doctor. “On stage.”

Her wicked smile appears on her face, “You’re good at games. Maybe one day you’ll be a game maker like me.”

“Not if the games continue at all.” Highbottom interjected, turning back around to face Dr. Gaul.

“Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow’s in that zoo?” She gestures toward Coriolanus, eyes flickering to your face as well. “And I came here to ask your star mentor a question.”

The attention goes from Dr. Gaul to the male sitting beside you.

“What are the Hunger Games for?”

Coriolanus takes a second before answering, the gaze of his classmates heavy on him. “They’re to punish the Districts for their uprising. To… commemorate the end of the war—“

“Commemorate the dull, dull, dull.” She runs with her words, her raspy voice making it sinister. “Punishment can take myriad forms. Why not drop bombs? Cancel Food shipments? Stage executions? Why games?”

“Shouldn’t we be asking ourselves whether or not they’re right in the first place.” Sejanus replied instead of Coriolanus, making your head snap up to the Plinth. “Some of those kids were two years old when the war ended. The oldest of them were only eight!”

“Sejanus—”

“Ah, Miss Lovett.” Dr. Gaul called, catching your intention of stopping Sejanus’ ramble. “Tell me. What are the Hunger Games for?”

You pinch your hand, looking between her staring eyes. “To remind the Districts of the Capitol’s power and lack of remorse for the war they started. To show that, if pushed hard enough, humans will do whatever it takes to survive.”

Dr. Gaul clapped her hands at your response, her crazed smile only growing. “I like this one! She understands what the Hunger Games are for.”

You bite your tongue, doing what you could to show no emotion for the unnecessary praise.

“Unlike you, Mr. Plinth. That sort of sympathy might mess with your mentoring assignment.” She says in disapproval.

“Perhaps the Capitol students are ill suited to be mentoring tributes. Perhaps the game's time has passed.” Dean Highbottom attempted to talk about ending the games again.

“Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates too.” Coriolanus stands, taking another look at you before shifting his attention to Dr Gaul. “Maybe Sejanus is onto something here. Maybe we should be viewing those tributes as human beings.”

You frown at your boyfriend. It seemed like he didn’t want the Hunger Games to continue yet he defends his stance like he needs them to continue.

“I mean, you saw those kids at the zoo. They wanted to get to know Lucy Gray—“

You let out a fake laugh. One that was quiet enough so that not everyone could hear, but loud enough that those sitting around you and Dr. Gaul could hear. You earned a curious look from Dr. Gaul and a glare from Coriolanus in the process.

“If we need people to watch, we should be letting them get closer to the tributes before the Games. To make the stakes personal.” He finished, a prominent scowl replacing his once calm face.

You cross your arms and legs, watching the wall clock as they continue to converse about the topic. You lost interest the second he mentioned his tribute’s name. You could feel Coriolanus’ stare on you as he and Dr. Gaul went back and forth in their conversation.

“— Lucy Gray may not win in the arena… But if you just give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth prize that can win people’s attention.”

You caught his last bit, rolling your eyes at the mention of the infamous songbird.

Dr. Gaul hums, straightening her back. “I’d like you…” She flicks her eyes to your profile. “And Miss Lovett to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow.”

Your eyes widen at her, sitting up at the idea. “Dr. Gaul—“

“Wait.” Clemensia stands, hands lightly hitting the desk. “You mean you might actually use his, their ideas?”

“If it’ll help the ratings, why not?”

“Coriolanus,” She said loudly, trying to get as much recognition as the two of you. “And I are class partners. Dr. Gaul, we do all our assignments together.”

The doctor chuckles at Clemensia’s added comments, entertaining the idea. “It’ll be an interesting test.”

She took her leave, and it seemed as everyone in the room relaxed at the missing presence of the head game maker.

Coriolanus takes his seat next to you again, bringing his head by your ear. He felt you tense under him, making him release a quiet but bitter chuckle.

“Meet me in the library.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Coriolanus pulled you behind one of the shelves, gripping your arms.

“Nothing is wrong with me, Coriolanus.” You try prying yourself off of him. “Let go.”

“No.” He hardened his grip. “You’re being weird—“

“I’m being weird?” You throw your head back, laughing at his irony. “You were in a cage, locked with fucking tributes. Who knows what could have happened to you? You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

You tilt your head, a fake pout on your face. “No shit you didn’t.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Coriolanus got so close to your face that you could see the rage in his eyes.

“What are you going to do about it?” You crease your brows. The hands that held you in place started to hurt, but you couldn’t let that stop you now. “Tigris said you were just going to talk to your tribute, not follow her into where they’re being held.”

“I need her to trust me—“

“I’m not fucking done, Coriolanus.” You try to get out of his grip again. “You gave her one of your grandmother’s white roses, held her fucking hand, and looked at her as if she were the best damn thing that ever happened to you.”

“Is that what this attitude is about?” He scoffs at your childlike nature. “You’re jealous over my time spent with a District tribute?”

“You never looked at me the way you looked at her.” You seethed. Your silver necklace dangled over your collarbone, the light hitting it which caught Coriolanus’ eye. “And you never gave me one of Grandma’am’s special roses.”

The male looked back into your eyes, processing your words. “I need this girl to trust me. The only way for her to trust me is if she believes I cherish her. I want to win the Plinth prize. And according to the Dean, the way to win is by getting Lucy Gray to know someone still cares about her, even if she’s sent to her death. The people of Panem need to love her.”

You roll your eyes once more at the mention of the girl, “What good is winning the Plinth prize knowing you’re killing innocent people?”

“That’s not what you said to Dr. Gaul.”

“I don’t think I had a choice on my words spoken to her!” You almost scream, feeling tears welling in your eyes due to your boyfriend’s harsh grip. “Let go of me, Coriolanus. You’re hurting me.”

Something in him clicked, letting go of your arms.

You back up into one of the tables, wincing at the sudden sting. Coriolanus stepped close to check on you, suddenly feeling bad for holding you as hard as he probably shouldn’t have.

“Beautiful—“

“Don’t touch me.” You whisper as you rub your arms. “Don’t you dare.”

Coriolanus stops his actions, “Y/N…”

“I don’t like the Hunger Games.” You stare into his eyes, letting tears well into your eyes but never letting them fall. “And I can’t do anything to stop it. But I’ll try my very fucking best to get my tribute out of there alive and treated like a human and not as a spectacle for the eye.”

You shove his shoulder as you walk away from him, leaving the male in the library on his own.

“Fuck.” Coriolanus groaned, running a hand through his hair.

The rest of the day, you did your best to avoid Coriolanus. You would walk with Clemensia to classes or sit on the other side of the room if you had to. That was the first time he actually hurt you. Both mentally and physically.

You went into the restroom during your lunch break, removing part of your uniform to check the skin where Coriolanus gripped you. The skin was bright red and no doubt would be purple in a few minutes. Tears welled up in your eyes again but you refused to let them spill. Not for the same reason.

When classes ended, you took the fastest way you could to the Capitol Zoo, your bag filled to the brim with food, water, and medicine for your tribute. You knew your tribute was extremely sick and the chances for her survival were higher if she got any better.

You were the first mentor to appear at the Capitol. Although not the first visitor. Many parents and their children were staring at the tributes like they were animals. You did your best to avoid the camera set up right at the front, heading to one of the corners of the exhibit.

Lucky for you, Dill and Reaper were already situated in that area.

You were quickly able to gain their trust through the food and the medicine you brought for Dill. The three of you conversed about almost everything. Especially Dill. She wanted to know everything about you.

You offered her and Reaper more food as the young girl continued to question you.

“What about her? Are you friends with her?” Dill pointed to Arachne.

You shake your head, “More like acquainted. She’s not my favorite person I’ve ever met.”

“Good. She seems mean.” She grimaces at Arachne teasing her tribute with food. “Mm, what about that crazy man?”

“What?” You crease your brows, a confused laugh coming from you. “What crazy man?”

“That one.” She gestured to a blond, blue-eyed male. “The one who followed us in here. Is he your friend?”

You subconsciously grab your silver necklace, wrapping a finger around the charm. “He… Yes.”

Dill’s eyes lit up at the beautiful necklace, “That’s so pretty! Where did you get it?”

Smiling at her enthusiasm, you take it off and show it to her. “Coryo—“

“Who’s that?” She held the charm in her palm.

“My,” You hesitate, glancing at his crouched figure. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend?!” She practically shouts, jumping to her feet. You catch the necklace before it can fall out of her hands, slipping it back on. That medicine really helped her.

The people around you look over, making you flush red at the sudden attention. “Dill, honey—“

“Who is it? Is he also a mender?” She continues to jump and down. “Is he here right now?”

Coriolanus catches your embarrassed state, tilting his head at what the young girl could possibly be talking about.

“He is, but Dill, you can’t announce it to everyone here.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, rubbing your arm from the sudden pain it emitted. “And it’s mentor.”

“Well which one is he? Is it him?!” She points to Sejanus, making you chuckle.

You catch your lover’s eyes, watching his own eyes drift down to your arm. The small smile on your face fades and you look down, clearing your throat.

“No, not him.” You hand her your last water bottle and shut your bag. “If I tell you who it is, do you promise not tell the rest of the tributes?”

“I promise.” She crossed her heart. “Who is it?”

You gesture for her to come closer, whispering into her ear. “It’s the crazy man.”

“Really?” She whisper-shouted back, looking at Coriolanus. Dill looked back at you and noticed your bothered face, “What’s wrong?”

“We had a fight today.” You mumble, dusting your skirt off. “We didn’t leave off on a good note.”

“Oh.” She held your hand. “Hopefully you make up! Even if he is crazy, he’s crazy smart. So are you! I just know you two will be married and have beautiful children and—“

Screams fill the air, cutting Dill off. You quickly whip your head toward the noise, finding Arachne being held by her tribute. Reaper came back over to pull the young girl away from you while you were pulled away from her by two peacekeepers.

“What’s happening to Arachne?” You strain your neck to look over, watching blood pour out of her neck. “Oh, god— Oh my, god.”

Shots were being fired by peacekeepers, killing the tribute that attacked one of your peers. You pulled yourself away from the peacekeepers and rushed over to her. Although you weren’t the closest with Arachne, you were still going to try your best to help her.

“Arachne?” You kneel by her, holding her head. “Can you hear me?”

She sputters out incoherent words, the glass bottle still pierced into her neck.

“You’re going to be fine. It’s going to be fine.” You do your hardest to stop the bleeding without hurting her even further. “I’m sure someone is coming to help—”

“Beautiful—” You feel a pair of strong arms pull you away from Arachne’s body, her body slowly becoming lifeless.

“Oh, my god.” You drop your hands, letting the arms pull you up. “I can’t— She just—“

“Baby, I need you to breathe.” Coriolanus turned you around, holding your face in his hands. “Breathe with me.”

You shook your head, Arachne’s blood covering your hands. “Her family needs to— She’s d–dead. Her parents—”

He wiped the tears you didn’t know were falling from your face. “It’s not your fault. I need you to breathe, okay? Can you do that?” You suck a shaky breath in and release, shutting your eyes at the encounter.

“Okay, good. A few more.” He continued to brush the tears off.

Coriolanus made sure you could breathe properly before leading you further away from the Capitol zoo. You tried to not get any blood on Coriolanus’ school uniform and tried to stop the flow of tears.

Admittedly, you hated how Arachne acted, but you never wanted her to die because of it. But her action toward the tribute was wrong and she paid the price for it. At least, that’s what the voice in the back of your mind repeatedly said to you.

“Do you need me to take you home?” Coryo took out water from his bag and wet some tissues, rubbing your hands.

You mumble a small no, sniffling from all your tears spent today. You assumed the tears were from what happened before and that Arachne’s death was just the trigger for it. You were still upset over Coriolanus and Lucy Gray and the way he treated you earlier. But those thoughts were pushed and locked into a small chest. You needed to be with him after what just happened to a classmate.

He looked at you with somewhat concern, “Are you sure? I can—”

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Your glassy eyes met his, catching his worried look. “I can’t spend tonight alone.”

Coriolanus threw the tissues away in a nearby trash can, “Always.”

You let him pull you into a hug, forgetting that he hurt you physically and you didn’t want him to hold you.

“It’s starting again.” Grandma’am walks over to the table you, Coriolanus, and Tigris were seated. “This is how it begins… The war.”

“It was my fault. I suggested we get closer to the tributes.” Coriolanus says in a distant tone, his hand in yours.

Your head rests on his right shoulder, dressed in one of the robes Tigris made you. You let him fiddle with your hand, feeling him trace his name over your palm.

“You’re just lucky that your songbird and that sickly girl didn’t attack the both of you as well.” Grandma’am gestured to you.

“They’re not rebels, Grandma’am. They’re just girls.” Tigris looks down at the table, her voice wavering at the thought of the poor tributes.

“Trust me. Lucy Gray hasn’t been a girl in a long time.” Grandma’am shook her head, Coryo’s eyes snapping up to hers. “Outside of this Capitol, they’re savages. One and all. However they may smile, they will use you. You must use them. Or you’ll end up dead in the trees like your father.”

You squeeze Coriolanus’ hand at the mention of his deceased father, feeling him tense under his grandmother’s words. You loved Grandma’am, but to say something about her grandson’s dead father to get his act right did not settle right with you.

As the night grew longer, Tigris eventually escorted Grandma’am back to her room, squeezing both yours and her cousin’s shoulders.

“Don’t let him stay up all night for this.” Tigris told you, hoping you would knock some sort of sense into him. “Good night.”

You smile at her before shifting your attention back to the male to your right. “You heard your cousin.”

Coriolanus had his left hand now resting on your leg, occasionally moving his hand up and down to keep you awake. “You’re supposed to help me with these thoughts, you know?”

“I know.” You give him a sleepy smile. “I’ll help. I probably won’t have the best ideas, but I’m here as moral support.”

He chuckled at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Best moral support ever.”

You ended up falling asleep the second he got to the fifth paragraph, head resting on the papers he already filled out.

But you and Coriolanus knew something between the two of you shifted. And you both knew it. Why?

Because he had yet to apologize for hurting you earlier.

taglist: @peterparkerluvvbot @nathaslosthershit @springholland @emma-andrea1 @psychicpuppyarcade @chrryluna @whodis-26 @coconut-dreamz @cowgirllharry @slytherinholland @lacysversion @perks-of-being-jojo @itzmeme @noodlesketchbook @ohmyzai @upsidedownjill @axionn @mizuki80 @unclecrunkle @tiaamberxx (ask for taglist in comments or dm)

760 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 5 months

Text

the ravenous rupture

fused with the foe, chapter five

a/n: and that's it for fused with the foe! but don't you worry, our wonderful king and queen will return in both of the next instalments of the series ♡ (the release date for the next one is already up on the masterlist)

summary: “I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, love confession, crying, kissing, loss of virginity, semi-public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, oral, fingering, handjob, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, aftercare

word count: 3895

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist

info about the world | maps | pinterest board | playlist

masterlist | join my taglist

Raising yourself up onto your tip toes, your fingertip still didn’t even manage to graze the spine of the tome you were trying to reach, only the tall shelf it stood on.

But just then, before you could turn to get a chair to balance on, an inked hand came into view and grasped the book for you.

“The Biology of Soil: A Farmer’s Comprehensive Study of Dirt,” Barnes dryly read the title out loud, “sounds absolutely riveting.”

“Don’t mock,” you snatched the leatherbound tome out of the knight’s hand, “it is interesting!”

“Of course, it is, your majesty,” he bit down a chuckle, “my apologies.”

A soft laugh couldn’t help but bubble out of you as you exited the library, “you know, you remind me a lot of my brothers.”

Walking at your side, he shot you a squint, “is that a compliment?”

“Well, I meant it as so, but I guess it could also be interpreted as an insult, all depending on which brother.”

Sinking further back into the plush armchair, your eyes danced from star to star as they glinted back at you through the big library window.

The full moon was so bright that you hadn’t needed to light a candle in order to make out the sentences in the open book that rested in your lap.

But suddenly, the creak of the heavy double doors to the chamber found your ears and when you twisted your head to discover who it was, your frame immediately sprung up from your comfortable seat. The forgotten tome tumbled to the floor with a dull thump as the embroidered dressing gown you wore over your ivory chemise fluttered around your legs as you swiftly stood.

“Your majesty–, Steve, I mean, Steve,” you clumsily corrected yourself, “hi, hello.”

“Evening,” he simply smiled, slowing his stride as he watched you bend down to pick the hardback off the floor.

Hugging the book to your chest, you blew out a breath, “what–, uh…” you eyed the loose linen shirt he had sloppily tugged into his trousers, “what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged, “thought a boring novel might do the trick,” letting his fingertips kiss the ends of each bookcase as he neared you by the window, “what about you?”

“Yeah, I can’t sleep either,” a soft sigh flowed from your lips, “my mind just doesn’t seem to wanna settle down these days…”

A gentle furrow appeared to Steve’s brow, “what’s troubling you?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” you placed the book down on the round side table by the armchair.

“If it’s keeping you up then it’s not nothing,” gripping the tall back of the chair, he rested against it as he gazed at your visage in the moonlight, “come on, you can talk to me.”

The knot in your chest tightened, “no, I can’t,” and you averted your gaze to the stone floor, “I really can’t…”

“Why?”

“Because–…” clenching your jaw in an effort to keep tears at bay, you briefly shot him a glare as you snapped, “because I just can’t, alright?” squeezing your eyes shut, you quietly muttered just beneath your breath, “gods… how long will I have to wait…”

Having apparently had better hearing than you’d thought, Steve then queried, “wait for what?”

Fluttering your eyes back open, you met his gaze and uttered sombrely, “…for it to pass…” feeling your heart thump painfully in your chest just from the mere sight of him.

A low sigh slowly seeped out of his lungs before his unwavering gaze averted to the upholstery of the chair, “…I hope you know that I’ve grown to care for you a great deal. You’re a very dear friend,” he uttered with the utmost sincerity, “and as a dear friend, I wish for you nothing but the purest of happiness. I want you to experience all of the great and wonderful things that life has to offer,” his ocean eyes then drifted back up to catch yours, “don’t let our union hold you back for any of that.”

Sucking in a breath, you asked, “what do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.”

Averting your gaze, “…is that what you want?” you dug your nails into your opposite palm, “for us both to openly be with other people?”

“I don’t want you to be lonely and depressed,” fragments of desperation resonated in his tone, “you’ve already experienced more than one lifetime of hardships and I really don’t want this to be another one. So, when you fall in love, please don’t hesitate. You of all people deserve to experience that.”

“…I–…” a shaky breath escaped you, “I can’t–…”

“…you can’t?” he echoed in nearly a whisper.

“I can’t because–…” lifting your gaze, the library around you grew more blurry by the second, “because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you revealed, “from the moment that I wake to even the dreams that possess me at night. I can not shake you from my thoughts no matter how hard I try,” as you blinked, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek, “Steve, I wish for you to experience those very joys you speak of just as fiercely. I just want you to be happy even if I’m not the source.”

Looking as if he was scarcely breathing at all, his gaze stayed fixed upon you as he uttered, “dove, why do you think I wish that for you?” your eyes grew wide at his confession, “I don’t wanna be with someone else when you are the one I want by my side,” his fingers faltered from the grip they had on the back of the armchair as his slow steps began to carry him closer to where you stood, “not just as my queen, but as my friend, as my conscience, as my judgement, as my heart,” his eyes glistened as he then declared, “I am yours, Y/n. I didn’t plan for it, I don’t even know when it happened or how, but I do know that it’s true.”

Closing the short distance that remained, you walked up and pulled him down as you began to rise up to your tip toes. As you crashed your lips against his, it didn’t take long before you felt his broad hands glide over your waist.

Breaking the kiss, you retracted just enough to catch the beguiling look in his eye. The corners of his lips drew up dreamily just as yours did right before you dove back in.

As your fingers weaved in his beard, so did his tongue as it danced against your own, making you lightheaded as your feet began to shuffle back, though you didn’t realise that you’d even been moving till your spine crashed against a sturdy bookcase.

Parting momentarily at the impact, a soft giggle swiftly followed your initial squeak the collision conjured. As his gentle chuckle echoed your own, Steve’s palm caressed down your features before he captured your lips once more.

When the fire inside of you crackled and burned too hot for you to ignore, you pulled back, a glossy string of saliva still kept you connected a moment before you gasped, “Steve, I–… I–…”

Resting his palms over yours as they clutched the top of his tunic, he tilted his chin back further, “what?” creating enough of a distance between you to truly check in.

But how you were going to ask of him what you desired remained a mystery, no matter how hard you scrambled your fuzzy mind. So instead, you wrapped your fingers around one of his wrists and slowly guided it lower.

“Dove…” he sucked in a breath as his gaze shadowed the journey you were taking his touch on, “do you wanna–…” finding your eye, he asked you softly, “you sure you know what it is you’re asking for?”

“Yes,” swiftly flowed out of you as you nodded dizzily, “I–… I know. I read the books, I read all of them, I know how it all works,” your rushed words conjured a lovely little chuckle from the royal, “I just–… please?” your hot breathed fanned across his features as he leaned back in close, “I–… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…” with your fingers still enveloped around his wrist, his touch slowly began to take over and to move on its own, “fantasising about what you might be like…” unhurriedly ghosting up and down the curve of your waist, “about what your touch must feel like…” each time creeping closer and closer to where you wished for him to caress, “how it differs compared to my own…” till his teasing touch ended each fluttering swoop with feather-light grazes at both the swell of your tits, as well as the lower part of your abdomen, just before he actually reached anything real, through still leaving you utterly dazed.

Leaning a forearm against the shelf behind you, he smirked, “…you think about me?”

“Every night,” you dug your fingers in the fabric of your chemise and pleadingly began to hike it up, “sometimes the sun doesn’t even manage to set before I need a moment alone… all because of you.”

As he then captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his wandering hand dipped under your thin shift before you’d even raised the hem completely. When his touch found your buzzing pearl, a whimper slipped from your lungs and vibrated against his tongue as your grip on the fabric faltered and it dropped to hang around his wrist like a curtain.

“Is this how you dreamed about me touching you?” he gazed down at you, smiling at the way you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Mind melting to ooze, you bubbled, “yes–, but also–, oh!” your brows knit together as he switched to circle your clit harder, “a-also–”

“Also how?” you could hear your want reverberate off the palace walls as he touched you, “did you dream about me kissing you down here?” holding your gaze, Steve then sank to his knees before you.

Your breaths came in ragged as you blinked down at him, “y-yes,” watching intently as he dipped his head under your gathered-up skirts. The sloppy pecks he then lavishly began to plant over your glistening petals felt like nothing you’d ever imagined, “oh, that’s–,” you let out a broken moan, “don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Throwing your head back against the bookcase, Steve’s grip buried in your crumbled clothes as his soft tongue dragged through your desperation.

Letting go of your chemise with one hand, it drifted down your hip. Enclosing his lips around your throbbing clit, he sucked down hard as his fingers joined to sweep through your mess, only parting from you for a breath, “gods, you taste so fucking good,” before he eased one digit inside your clenching cunt.

You barely noticed that it was falling before the robe you wore slipped off your frame and tumbled to a puddle on the floor, leaving you with only the thin shift and the king’s hot kisses for warmth in the cold night.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whimpered, reaching down to thread your fingers in his honied hair as a second finger sneaked in beside the other, fucking you gently with them.

You nearly wiggled out of his grasp when his luscious laps unravelled you completely, but somehow the monarch managed to follow your every squirm till he softened his efforts and replaced them with a few soft pecks over your sensitive clit that made your whole form twitch.

Fluttering your eyes open, you met his gaze as he raised the back of his hand to wipe some of your juices from his beard.

Breathlessly, you uttered, “get up,” and as he did, you didn’t waste any time before your eyes drifted from his tender stare, “take your shirt off.”

With one hand, he reached back and tugged the tunic off of his head, swiftly letting it drop to the floor and join the fabric puddle already at your feet.

For a moment, he didn’t give in on his urge to close the short distance between you, simply stood there and let your stare study him, learn the galaxy of his flesh, every little mark and scar that told the story of his past.

With your eyes still glued to the burliness of his fuzzy chest, you uttered, “tell me again,” before lifting your gaze up to meet his, “tell me again so that I know this is real.”

Reaching out to grasp your right hand, he said, “it’s real,” stepping closer as he placed your ceremonially scarred palm over his heart, “I’m real, this is real,” his fingers on his own marked hand, which clasped over yours, gently brushed over your knuckles as he spoke, “I am yours,” he shifted again and closed the small gap between you, “I will always be yours till my dying breath.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you watched as the moonlight glinted in the blue of his eyes, making them look like the sea on a stormy night.

“I think my heart has belonged to you ever since the dragon attack,” you professed, “though it took me a while longer before I realised what it was, why you made me feel the way that you do,” you parted your fingers against his chest, “Steve,” and let his weave in with your own, “I love you.”

Using his hold as an advantage, Steve yanked you to him till your lips crashed against his. Letting your free hand wander across his warm skin, it swiftly came down to cup the palpable tent in his trousers.

“Fuck…” he groaned lowly as you offered him a light pet.

As you shifted to fiddle after the buttons on the side of his breeches, even the aid of your other hand didn’t yield any success in undoing more than one of them. Swiftly coming to your rescue, you swore it only took him three seconds before they hung loose enough around his hips for his cock to spring free.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you glanced down at length which stood so proud it poked you in the stomach. If only you had the proper context to truly know how intimidated you should have been at the discovery of his fat girth.

Hesitantly inching your fingers closer as you stared, you asked, “can I–…?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slowly brought your hand the rest of the way down, engulfing his own grasp around yours and gently showing you how to touch him.

As a sinful curse flowed from Steve’s lips, his free hand drifted up to weave itself into your hair.

“Will it hurt?” you watched how your fingers failed to meet on the other side of his girth.

“I don’t know, I hope not,” his forehead rested against your own, “but if it does, then we just stop and figure something else out, okay?”

“Okay…” you hazily nodded.

Feeling his fingers flex around your own, you saw precum glint at the bulbous tip.

“It’s all for you, dove,” you felt him throb at your touch, “all because of you,” a desperate growl then seeped out of his lungs as he seized your lips in a fervent kiss, and the next thing you knew, the whole world fell out from under you as he scooped you up into his arms. When a shrill yelp escaped you, Steve simply readjusted his grip on you and said, “don’t worry, I’ve got you,” nipping gently at your neck, “I won’t let you fall.”

With your fingers still grasping his girth, the new position now had your pussy pressed dangerously close to it, so close that you couldn’t help but sweep the head of his cock through your soppy folds and drench him. Tapping your clit a few times, the instinctual drive of his hips triggered you to simply cup his length near and let him part your pretty petals and lather himself in your needy nectar. Each desperate thrust ended in an electric nudge at your pearl, rendering you to whimper shakily into the night.

But then suddenly, in the fog of it all, the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside, purely because of just how wet and ready you were.

“O-oh, fuck!” everything froze as you reeled at the staggering sensation, breathlessly digging your nails into his broad shoulders and leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“Sorry,” he hastily panted, “you okay?”

“Uh–… uh-huh,” you nodded fuzzily, shutting your eyes a moment as you caught your breath.

But then as your gaze fluttered open once more, you caught his stare and offered him a short, affirming nod, holding his eye as he slowly began to move.

Your mouth hung agape as he shallowly fucked you, barely even giving you anything but still turning you into goo in his grasp.

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” you whispered as you fluttered around him.

Gliding you’re your palm up to his cheek, moans tumbled out of you both as he gently began to offer you more. Your legs couldn’t help but twitch in his grasp as he practically split you in half with the way he eased you down on his fat cock.

“You’re doing so well,” his face crumbled up in a silent moan as you felt every detail of him slowly stretch you out, “gods, you’re so wet…”

And the next thing you knew, it wasn’t so slow and steady any longer, as the bookcase your spine was pressed against rattled at his efforts.

You thought before that just the bulbous head of him was overwhelming, but to have that tip kiss desperately against the deepest part of you was something else entirely. You couldn’t speak, you couldn't think, you could barely even breathe, just go slack in his firm hold and feel him, not just right there, but fucking everywhere, that’s how stuffed you were.

Steve’s strength wasn’t that novel to you these days, but to have him lift you up and sink you down on his cock, like you were just a leaf on the wind, still managed to amaze you.

“F-fuck,” you blubbered as you tumbled over the edge once more, “oh, fuck!” accidentally knocking a few books down as one of your arms flailed for purchase.

You barely registered the loud thud the crashing books emanated as your frame melted down into his hold. Your face buried itself in the crook of his neck as he breathlessly came to a halt, still embedded deep inside of your clenching cunt.

The sound of his breaths directly in your ear helped to soothe your tingling senses as he rested his cheek against the crown of your head.

Shifting his feet, Steve carried you the short distance over to the comfortable armchair you’d inhabited earlier. Carefully sitting down in it and keeping you in his lap, his arms silkily slid up your back and hugged you close.

After persuading you to curl out of your hiding spot by planting soft pecks all over your face, you blinked down at him, bathed in the moonlight that gushed in from the tall window beside where you sat.

Gliding a hand around to your front, Steve gently tugged on the thin string at your neckline, undoing the bow, before he pulled the shoulders down your arms till you slid out of the sleeves and the top of the undergarment crumbled to gather at your waist with the rest of the fabric.

As he pressed his lips to the peak of your tits, one of his palms accompanied the kisses. A soft whine flowed out of you as your hand slid down to where your bodies were still joined and played with your puffy pearl.

Casting a glance down, he groaned, “yeah, rub that little clit for me,” and your hips intuitively began to rock gently.

As you touched yourself, something else caught your attention as you slowly began to ride him. At the lower part of your stomach, you felt the dull bulge of his staggering size poke your palm steadily to the rhythm of your gentle efforts.

Letting your pebbly nipple escape from his lips with a pop, his gravelly timbre washed over you as you slowly rocked, “that’s it, fuck–,” his grip slid down to be firm on your ass, “that’s my girl.”

Abruptly, as if snapping out of a trance, you notice just how loud you both were being.

“Wait,” you shushed him though didn’t halt your hips motions, “we’re in the library, someone could hear us!”

“Then fucking let them hear us,” his fingers dug into your ass as he desperately took over and bounced you in his lap, manhandling you as he slammed you down on his cock hard enough for you to lose your breath, “no one would dare bother us, trust me.”

And before you knew it, your cunt clamped down one last time around his cock, hard enough to halt his efforts and milk him of all of his worth.

Weakly letting his dick slip out, your skin was practically glued to his as you plastered yourselves to each other and you sensed his hot load slowly leaked out of your sensitive hole.

As you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal and your heavy lids fought to stay open, a thought entered your mind.

“Hey, Steve?”

Shifting his arms around you, his soft hum washed over you, “hm?”

Keeping your voice low, you shared, “I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight…” but to your surprise, a gentle chuckle then rumbled in his chest, “what?” you lifted your head and blinked up at him, “why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just–,” he smiled, gazing down at you as if Zondür himself had divinely created you especially for him, “you really think I’d let you skip off to your room alone after all of that, like it never even happened?”

Huffing out a short giggle, you lowered your glance, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “if you want me to sleep beside you, I will,” rising from his comfortable seat, he readjusted his grip on you, twisting you to him as he hooked an arm behind your knees and at your back. As he carried you close, he began to lumber out of the library and down the hallway, concurring the short distance to where your chambers lied, “my queen, I would love nothing more for the rest of my days than to fall asleep with your head on my chest and wake up to your softness arching against me…”

Flexing your fingers around his neck, you raised yourself up enough to capture his lips in a tender kiss one last time just as he kicked your bedroom door shut behind you both.

483 notes · View notes

tsuvvy · 8 months

Text

Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 2

Mistreated Stray

You wake up cuffed to a hospital bed. You refuse to cooperate with the Batfamily and stubbornly refuse to disclose any information about yourself or how you ended up in your job with Kerrim. And surprise rises when they find out whose DNA matches closest to yours.

Warnings: Mentions of pain, you are handcuffed to a bed, fighting with electricity, violence (not a lot), mentions of not eating well, implication of (not) poisoned food, mention of killing and torture, you being compared to a stray dog (not in a bad way, I promise)

Word Count: 2.3k

Your head was pounding. Your limbs hurt. You felt uncomfortable.

You wanted to curl up into a little ball. But when you tried to move your hand, it didn't go very far. It was abruptly stopped by a force.

You peeled your eyelids open and managed to look down through your blurry vision. You were handcuffed to the bed.

You looked around with your confused and still somewhat blurry eyesight.

Off to the side, there was a man. He was decently tall and his clothes looked meticulously cleaned and pressed of any wrinkles there could ever possibly be with his perfect posture. He didn't have many similarities with your father, but you were quite disoriented. He was at a counter with his back towards you.

“Dad…?” You muttered out in a somewhat shaky voice of pain. Your head felt like it was getting worse.

The man paused in what he was doing at the sound. He took a moment before turning to look at you. He had gray hair and wrinkles along his forehead, which were both no doubt from aging. And he had a nice mustache as well. It was clear he had a nice job to get such a nice suit as the one he wore.

“Ah, I see you are finally awake,” He said, more of an observation than trying to speak to you. “I am Alfred Pennyworth,” Cassandra had already told him of her own observations that you couldn't understand much, but it looked like you could. No one knew to what extent of speech you knew and didn’t know. He grabbed the tray off of the counter he was just at. He stepped towards you and put it down on the bed next to you.

You almost curled away from him. Like a scared stray dog. Your gaze traveled to the tray, his hand, and then him. The tray had an assortment of little items on it. You couldn't tell what they were. They smelled good, but..

The man backed away from you, noticing your movement and cautious gaze.

“Go on,” he gestured toward the tray. “It is safe,” he offered a kind gaze. But he was meant with nothing but a mean scowl from you. He knew this was going nowhere, “I will return shortly.”

You watched him turn his back toward you. And you watched him leave.

It took a moment before you looked down the tray. You hesitantly reached a hand over, poking the little sandwiches on the tray before picking it up and smelling it. You took a tiny and cautious bite. It actually tasted.. Good..

You are so accustomed to the lazily prepared and bad tasting food that your father would feed you. So these tiny little sandwiches seemed like a delicacy. One that you could not stop eating.

You only stopped when someone stepped into the room that resembled that of a hospital one.

The old man had returned, then behind him came a red-head in a chair with wheels and two ravenettes in after her. The four stopped when they looked at you. The tray of 14 little sandwiches was down to about 3 now.

Alfred smiled at you, even if you had gone back to your stiff and cautious curl you could manage. Your body pressed against the arm of the hospital bed.

“I see you enjoyed the snack,” Alfred said, “Excuse me while I make some more for our guest.” He had turned to the three.

“Of course, it's no worries at all!” The red head told him with a smile before he made his exit.

You watched him leave, your gaze immediately turning to the three that entered farther into the room.

The woman with short black hair looked at you. You hated her gaze. You hated the pity you saw. And you hated the color. And you just hated it. You hated her.

“Hello,” the red head said, wheeling her chair a bit closer to the bed you were sitting in. “I'm Barbara,” her voice was sweet, gentle, and soft. “This is Bruce,” she gestured to the man with black hair who moved to stand behind her. “And that is Cassandra.” She stood farther away from the bed, her arms crossed, “Though you probably.. Already know her.” Barbara glanced at you, watching your reaction. Bruce watched carefully as well. You just glanced around at everyone warily.

Why weren't you locked up? Why weren't you getting worse treatment than just being cuffed to the arm of a hospital bed. You’ve seen your father kill and torture his enemies. Why wasn't that happening to you?

“What's your name?” Barbara asked you gently. Bruce stood behind the chair she sat in, still watching you.

“I…” Your voice was quiet, and you were hesitant, you looked away stubbornly. “Can’t tell.” Though you did keep the three in your peripheral. The three were a bit disconcerted from that answer. You were young, possibly younger than Damian, so why couldn’t you tell them?

“Why not?” The redhead asked. You didn’t answer so she moved on. “What about your age?” She asked gently, her gaze reassuring. You stubbornly shook your head. Barbara looked behind herself at Bruce, the two sharing the same look.

“I understand you are scared, but-” Bruce was cut off.

“Not scared.” You sent him a scowl.

“Alright, you aren’t scared,” he restated, “Either way we need to know why you were working for someone like Kerrim.”

You looked away again. “Please, we want to help,” Barbara urged.

“Nothing,” You said, voice cracking subtly for a second in your uncertainty.

“Nothing?” Barbara questioned.

“Nothing I know.” You said.

“What does that mean?” Barbara asked. She had a good idea what you meant. She was a genius, after all. But she wanted to hear it from your perspective.

“They don’t know anything,” Everyone looked to the doorway. There stood a boy with a dog next to him. “But they’re lying.” His gaze narrowed on you in a glare. And you returned that glare with a scowl.

“Damian?” Barbara questioned.

“You do know something,” He walked in, his hands in his pockets and the dog at his side. “You just won’t give it up.”

Everyone was silent for a beat.

“Or,” Damian spoke up through the silence, “You were taught not to.” Damian could see through you. “Am I right?” He raised a brow, the cocky smirk that looked to be an insanely good impersonation of Robin (crazy, right?). Your scowl only deepened. When Alfred came into the room with another tray of little sandwiches, you tried to push yourself farther into the armrest on the bed. Damian picked off one of the little sandwiches as he said, “Seems I am.” His gaze shifted towards Bruce, “Should I continue?” He asked arrogantly.

“I believe there is no need for that, Master Damian.” Alfred spoke as he placed the newly acquired tray of sandwiches on the bed and placed the ones from the other tray onto it and took the old tray. He diligently backed away from the bed and in turn, you. He didn’t wish to make this any more stressful for you than it already was.

“Alfred is right,” Bruce agreed.

“Bruce,” A boy with black hair peeked into the room, a laptop in his hands. “Could I speak with you,” he insinuated to talking away from this room.

“Yes,” Bruce said, looking at you. “Barbara, Alfred, stay with them.” He told the two. “Damian and Cassandra, come with us.”

The two obeyed, following him out of the room. But, the dog next to Damian's side stayed in the room instead of following him out. The big dog came to sit next to the chair Barbara was in.

“Have you found something, Tim?” Bruce asked.

“A little,” the boy answered as he led the group back to the main computer he had been working at.

“And that is?” Damian raised a brow.

“I'd appreciate it if you kept the rude remarks to a minimum, thanks.” Tim sighed as he sat in the swivel chair and began to type away. “I couldn't find a lot.” Tim said.

“What did you find?” Bruce asked. He put a hand on the top of the chair and leaned into his other hand he rested on the edge of the desk.

“I tried looking for things based on her description and pictures first. Like missing persons reports or even any pictures that might have been taken out in the open. But I couldn't find anything,” Tim continued to type on the keyboard. “Then I looked for a birth certificate by putting in general information, but also couldn't find anything.”

“Get to the point.” Damian chimed in, getting impatient.

Cassandra had stood quiet, listening intently. Something about you she felt like she knew. She felt like she knew you. But she knew she didn't. She would probably recall meeting a young child adept at fighting that had electricity powers.

“Getting there,” Tim grumbled, finally pulling up a DNA Match screen. “Then, I had Alfred help grab something to use for a DNA match,” He cleared out the other screens in the way.

On the big computer screen was a picture displayed of you, and then one next to it. The picture next to the one of you was of Cassandra, much to Damian, her's, and Bruce's surprise. The words,

‘Closest Match’

were flashing on the screen.

“Now, the kid is obviously not in the database,” Tim pushed against the desk, turning the swivel chair to look at the three. “But they are related to Cass.”

Cass stood stunned, staring at the computer screen. Maybe there was a reasoning to why you were so familiar to her…

The four looking at the computer, Tim at the others, heard a sudden zap, then a few barks and yells. Everyone whipped to look at the door.

“Hey, hey, no!” Barbara's voice sounded from the room.

Not long at all afterward, you came out of the room as quickly as you could. Though you were significantly slower.

Bruce stepped forward, but he stopped when he caught your gaze. Your venomous gaze that would have sent shivers down anyone's spine who didn't deal with people like this a lot. But it caught Bruce off guard.

It wasn’t as much about the venom in your glare. It was what you reminded him of.

You reminded him of something like a stray animal. One that has been mistreated over the years, had to fight for food. Lost loved ones, been abandoned.

Your gaze traveled across everyone in the room.

“Don't!” You yelled when you saw Tim stand up. “Don't, come.. Come near!” You figured out your words. Tim and Cassandra shared a glance.

“Just..” You looked at Bruce quickly. “Calm down.” He kept his tone as soft as he could manage. He puts a hand out, tries to ease your emotions.

You finally noticed Damian. He had gotten closer without your realizing. Your reaction time has decreased with how exhausted you still were. You managed to back away from his hand in the nick of time.

“Damian no!” Cassandra yelled when she saw Damian about to punch at you.

Damian hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting to Cassandra momentarily. You took the opportunity to send a kick at him. He dodged. You started sending more attacks, all being significantly slower than they had been when you first ran into the vigilantes.

Damian only dodged your attacks, slowly backing away throughout the area. No one else intervened. It was all happening too quickly.

You were already charging up the electricity in your arm. It wrapped and flickered around your arm, quickly traveling down to your hand. You threw your hand out, sending the shot of electricity at Damian, but he ducked, effectively dodging it.

Your eyes felt heavy. Your own arm you had just used felt numb and tingly. Your legs shook, and your heart was racing. And you were falling..

Damian moved quickly, still in his crouch from ducking. He opened his arms and you fell into him, your head landing on his chest.

Damian put a hand around your shoulder, holding it firmly, making sure you wouldn't try to get up, but he already knew you couldn't with how weak you were.

And you weakly trying to push against him to get away from him only proved that.

“Get away,” you said, voice shaking. “Get. Get..” You weakly pushed. “Get away. Get away..” You sounded like a broken record. Voice continuously breaking, and also continuously repeating yourself. “Please.. Get away!” You cried.

“Calm down!” Damian told you.

“Away! Away! Away!” You continued to cry.

“Hey, I told you to calm down!” Damian kept his voice a firm but calm tone. “You're safe, no one will hurt you!” He glanced at the woman who had approached and crouched next to the two of you. You hadn't noticed her.

You hadn't noticed her until she was pulling you away from Damian’s arms and into her own.

“Shh,” Cassandra held you tightly in her arms against her chest, “It's okay,” she rested her forehead against your head.

“Get away!” Your voice grew louder, more desperate, more hysterical. “Get,” She shushed you again, “Get away..” Your voice was growing quieter. “Get away.” A mutter now.

She was.. Cassandra was warm, and.. You couldn’t understand anything that was happening. Too much is happening. This warmth was foreign. And the want to lean into her was foreign, and quite frankly an unwelcome feeling you didn't want in your body.

“It's okay,” She told you softly, “I have you.” She wasn't sure why she felt the need to protect you. To hold you tightly. To never let go. To always keep you safe.

Why did the words make your stomach tighten like they did? And your heart felt weird. Almost worrisome to you if you had the time to think of your heart of all things.

You tried to fight the way your eyes grew heavier. “Get away..” Your voice was quiet, shaky, and tired. “Get..” You breathed, “Get away..”

You were asleep…

<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

@redh00dsbf @02006

430 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 2 months

Text

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. you did this to yourself.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing (i think) wc. 3.5k author’s note. and with this, we end our lil pre-relationship arc! and what's prewritten, so now y'all will have to wait. but not for too long since i'm very generous and also the best. it's almost time for a kiss xx

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | twny masterlist | < back | next >

CHAPTER 7: the missionTM (3)

right, so. a few things need to be established before facing the present moment.

first, once you were thoroughly exhausted by utahime, you returned to the room. her persistence to wrangle you into her and mei’s shared bedroom, which, in fact, had two nice, large beds, enough to share and not have anyone breathe down your neck, was indeed very tempting, and you almost succumbed. you didn’t for a reason you’re not yet sure of; all you know that each time she looked at you, pleading eyes and hands clasped close to her chest, an image of gojo left alone among the festival goers flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t force out a confirmation.

by all means, you have shared a bed with utahime. it had been nice and comfortable, and the two of you giggled under the covers, discussing the crushes on the tv show actors you had at the time. it was your first year at jujutsu tech, and you were sent on a mission with kyoto to establish rapport between the schools (no one else was willing, and yaga-sensei deemed you pleasant enough to be successful), and to say you were fast friends was an understatement – you clicked instantly, upon first glance, maybe. there was something about utahime’s tenacity and honesty you admired, and there was something about your openness and thick-skin she liked. kindness didn’t sabotage your backbone, and thus, you found a lot of things in common.

mei you like as well, though not as much. you feel she is quite cold underneath that clement smile, gaze curious but never attentive. however, it’s not mei’s presence that dissuaded you from joining them. you wish it was. god, what a mess.

it all sort of accumulated. fleetingly, you thought that gojo had returned to tokyo. you didn’t meet him once during the festival, which left you oddly desolate, as it was prime time for him to ruin your reunion with your dear friends – no trying to trip you up, no swiping at your ice cream, no public declarations of “hey! she stole that!,” no covering your eyes with his hands once the fireworks began so you’d miss the whole display. it was a bit unnerving, and you kept glancing over your shoulder enough for mei to ask, “are you expecting someone?”

the answer was, of course, a startled and incriminating, “no!”

when you did decline utahime’s fifth try to lure you into bed, she became suspicious. brows pinched and a displeased look, “how come, huh? you’d rather stay in a room with him?” she didn’t even say his name; utahime tried to avoid forming the syllables because she said it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

you held up your hands, like a thief caught red-handed, “no, no, i’d rather be with you two, really,” and you meant it, despite the something clattering in your brain, back and forth, back and forth, distant and strange and completely incomprehensible, “just that we need to wake up early tomorrow, and we’d hardly get any sleep if it was the three of us.”

for the first and likely only time, mei came to your rescue, “hmmm, she’s right,” she was already changing into her pajama’s, languid and elegant with the expensive, gleaming material hiding her body, “i am a bit tired after today. those curses…”

utahime shuddered, “don’t remind me, please.” a sigh followed, and you knew you’d won, “you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

“course. we got separate beds, and it’s not like he would actually try anything.”

“he better not,” she grumbled, “scream and i’ll actually rip him to pieces. i will do it with my bare hands—no, i’ll put on gloves first. i don’t want to actually touch him.”

“or better yet,” mei hummed, “send him here.”

the implication left you weirdly discontent. a pinch in your stomach where his hand had rested, so real that you had half the mind to look behind you to make sure he hadn’t manifested to defend himself. he didn’t. somehow, that was worse.

“absolutely not,” utahime stated, and you fought the urge to nod in agreement. she plopped down on her bed, exhausted, “no man is ruining this sanctuary.”

you exited with that. a bit confused and nervous, like some parts of you were rearranged perfectly but in the wrong manner. the door at the end of the dim hallway was suddenly intimidating, because finding a vacant room would make you extremely happy…right?

right. and that’s where you are now, palms clammy from sweat that surely accumulated from the dreaded heat plaguing the whole day. the night had cooled, rising harsh winds and bringing heavy clouds that obscured the stars as soon as the fireworks ended. maybe if he didn’t leave, he locked the door. then, at least, you’d feel vindicated, which is much better than that flutter pulling at your nerves. was this a part of his plan, too? set you on edge? it was, no doubt about that.

the room is, in fact, not locked, nor is it vacant. light spills from behind you, dousing the inky dark in vague silhouettes and shadows. gojo is here, and he’s sleeping, breathing soundly in the bed made for one. there’s a spot left for you beside him, a small space fit for another body. he could’ve easily taken up the whole mattress and then some, but he didn’t.

you’re not very good with deep contemplations – getou, you think, is, because he has the patience to untangle carefully. you don’t. all those neurons snapping just leave you angry.

still, you shut the door quietly, and still, you weigh the pros and cons of playing into this game. the lonely matt by the door is not exactly inviting, and you’re in too deep anyway. so, as silent as you can manage, you collect your pajamas and toiletries and lock yourself in the bathroom for a quick bed routine.

this is so silly. you want to giggle into a pillow because of how fucking ridiculous it is, but, when you leave the bathroom, changed, teeth cleaned, and face fed generously with skincare, his shadow in bed doesn't look silly. more so daunting, almost threatening, like he has more power over the situation than you want to give him credit for.

the first splatters of rain hit the closed windows. it's very dark, dark enough for you to have trouble discerning where's what, and you grapple for surfaces, afraid to trip over. the floorboard squeak and groan under your stealthy steps, and you can imagine him, sprawled there, twisting in annoyance until you plop down beside him.

you find your way there eventually, lower yourself carefully. no purchase, as a sudden movement would have you falling off the bed, which would hurt. it's very warm for your shower-cooled skin. and then... then. you don't really know. the raindrops pelt, and a flash of lightning cuts the world in half.

...a hand clasps at your thigh and pulls you close to a body, "mmh... where've ya been?"

the room fills with a thunderous, yet not exactly grating, noise. your breath hitches when his forehead bumps against the nape of your neck and you get a whiff of the floral bath soap he uses. so weirdly intimate.

"how are you not asleep?" you complain.

"was, until you opened the door," his voice is quiet. slurred, almost, like he's drunk, but gojo doesn't drink.

"..."

he has the audacity to press his chest close to your back, almost hugging you. the palm at your thigh makes no move to grope or linger, resting peacefully as another would, and you almost feel like it's innocent. or was that his goal the whole time? to tease, and nothing more?

warm. too warm. why does it make you flush?

"don't worry," gojo mutters, words pressed against the dip of your spine, "i promise i'm a gentleman," he gives a little squeeze, "mostly."

"most is not all," you snip, but don't shove him off.

he chuckles and the tremors buzz down to your toes, "too true," his palm flattens over your stomach, and he burrows deeper, "still. get some sleep."

something about his calm voice and warmth, and the thunder-rain-light show outside makes you sleepy, the type where you struggle against your eyes drooping and shutting for good. gojo isn't being very accommodating, the fingers playing with your shirt like they're making a decision. you'll hear him sigh and you'll be tugging your clothes into a semblance of respectability. he'll hum and you'll try to move away from the pleasant vibration. he'll curl even tighter and you'll want to lie there for eternity.

suguru: you awake? 3:49am

you: morning! sorry, i was already sleeping. what’s up? (o´ ▽ `o*)ﾉ 8:25am

you: i got you a souvenir ☆ i hope you’ll like it. gojo said you wouldn’t, but he’s a useless liar so 9:01am

you: i was thinking that we could all go to the arcade once we get back from the mission. have a nice weekend all to ourselves. i asked shoko, she said it’s ok as long as we go for a beer later. haibara-kun and nanami-kun also agreed. will you be free? 10:30am

at exactly 12:59pm, you are almost pressing the dial button, but gojo snaps your phone shut before you manage.

“hey!” you bristle, turning to your discontent seatmate.

his expression is shrouded by the lenses, but you see the tilt of his mouth, and he hasn't once left you alone for more than 30 seconds. he snatches the cell phone and slips it into his pocket, "that's theft."

he shrugs, "so sue me. i'll win in court, obviously."

"obviously," you seethe.

a clear, childish snort and the grin brightens considerably, and for a second, your gut churns – just for a moment, as fast as a breeze whipping the treetops and disappearing again. the train ride back to tokyo has so far gone in a similar fashion: him trying to annoy you and you somehow managing to refrain from clocking him in the jaw.

he is, however, not as irritating as he usually is, which is a feat in itself. it's... normal. nothing too special, nothing too bad. the gojo of 5 hours ago, waking you gently and shaking you and talking to your sleepy, bleary, barely conscious mind was different, kind, almost pleasant. and now he is like he always is, and it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as you wish it did.

right now, there is no reprieve, but, thankfully, you're used to his behavior.

"’sides," he leans his cheek on a fist, elbow on the armrest, "am i not entertaining enough for you?"

"seriously? begging for attention? are you that desperate?" you reach into his pockets, and, honestly, gojo could prevent this easily. you could tell; his technique is flexible in the physical department, too. so, letting you get too close is, in fact, quite voluntary on his end.

maybe he wanted to fluster you. it's not working. you're just irate as per usual, which must disappoint him.

"woah!" he stops you suddenly, hand on wrist, "at least buy me dinner first."

your anger fizzles into irritation when you notice you've garnered more than a few spectators. several pairs of curious, judging eyes glare at you from over the rims of magazines and newspapers and even laptops, and, yes, gojo's existence commands a lot of attention. he's always in the peripheries of every person within a mile radius without even trying.

so, the anger rears up again, because his antics have definitely ruined your chances of a peaceful, uneventful ride home, "gimmie my phone."

his grip is quite strong, holding you at an arm's length, "nah."

"you're an asshole, you know that?"

"stop thinking 'bout my ass, gosh, you'll make me blush," he takes that same hand and fans himself playfully, "but fine! since i'm the sweetest, nicest, and the kindest."

he fishes out your phone, lays it in your waiting palm, and then just looks at you like he's expecting something in return.

"what?"

a few seconds pass, his head tilts to a side, and you're left befuddled when his tongue darts out to wet his lips, "my thank you?'"

the first instinct, the correct one, is to say "go to hell" and forget this conversation even happened. the second, which you voice, is, "you expect gratitude for stealing my phone and then caving under zero pressure to return it?" your eyebrows must be all the way to your forehead. he is astounding.

he looks away, displeased, "not zero. you basically tried to fondle me. in public. in a train, even, how shameless of you."

"i did not."

"you did."

"not."

"did."

"oh god," you rub at your temples. a headache is oncoming.

gojo laughs. it's pretty, rich in pitch and loud, and more than a few people crane their heads, but now the stares are full-blown wonder. a bit sickening. you wouldn't be surprised if someone came up begging for a picture.

"could you please stop drawing attention to yourself?" you hiss.

"me?" he points at himself, glasses riding down. a flutter his pale eyelashes, "impossible," and a charming smirk. his pupils dart to your mouth, a full 1.5-second pause that makes your neck heat up. and, after what seems like a break for a wink and an allure, the spectacles are back.

what.

you open and close your mouth, unsure whether you saw correctly. the light must have been playing tricks on you, because whatever the hell that was, it was too honest for gojo. and all too out of character, too, because he's been calling you ugly for three years now. his first words to you might've been, "ew, what the hell is wrong with your face?"

what a bunch of shit, actually. now that you remember.

he's definitely just being his usual self, trying to rile you up, and to prove some point about being irresistible. typical, predictable, and so normal you relax instantly, letting go of any concern or interest in that strange glimpse.

once back at tokyo, you grab him by the sleeve. it's an involuntary reaction, but to be fair, you don't exactly even see gojo. he is simply the nearest person, and thus, subjected to your weird whims.

he stops, looks down at you, and he must see something he doesn't like because his placid expression crumbles, "...what?"

"neeeee!" you tug and tug and tug, and there might be stars in your eyes, and maybe a dopey smile, too, as you stare at the figure getting swallowed by the people rushing to their platforms, "i think i just saw ueda-san!"

"who?"

"ueda tatsuya-san. from kat-tun!" you finally, after a lot of effort and some seriously heavy panting, arrive at a secluded corner, "he was there, i swear!" you glance back. there's no one even remotely resembling the idol and a part of you is disappointed, the fan in you crying out to at least see an outstretched hand in a peace sign, "isn't that exciting?!"

the distaste only increases tenfold, but he hides it by shoving his hands into his pockets, a bored slouch, "so?"

your world freezes, a full 5 seconds before, "what?! what do you mean ‘so’?! this is such a cool coincidence! like...it's..." you inhale sharply, "fate!"

"haaaaaaaah?!" he stares down at you like you've gone insane, mouth open, a glimpse of teeth, "fate?"

"yes!" you respond enthusiastically, "do you think he saw me? this is my chance!"

"to die?"

"what?" you squint, confused, "why would i die? i want an autograph—"

"how'd you even know him, huh?" gojo pokes your forehead, pushing you back slightly, "have you ever talked to him in your life? he doesn't even know who you are," and, yeah, you'll admit, you don't have any arguments for that, and you hadn't really expected gojo to be the respectable, thoughtful adult in this situation.

still. surely fate has placed you and ueda-san in the same, massive tokyo train station so you could have a meet-cute like in the movies and fall deeply in love. you would quit your sorcerer job on the spot, travel with his band, gosh, the songs he'd write about you. this is all too much. you clasp hands on your cheeks. your head is spinning.

and all while gojo, a fan as well, or so you'd assumed, stands and watches you break down into a puddle of lovesick nonsense.

"oh god," he breathes, "stop," the distress leaks, "woman, snap out of it," his voice is strained.

"gosh, i dunno, gosh," you shake your head, "i don't think i'm ready to marry, i'm only 20. this is crazy,"

"the hell are you acting like he proposed to you? you maybe just saw the back of his head," gojo's agitation rises steadily, a tick in his jaw.

you clutch the material of his shirt, "no, it was really him. maybe i should go check?"

"no!" he puts his hands around your elbows, half-pulling and half-guiding you, "what’s gotten into you? snap out of it."

"but i gotta run after him," you jerk and struggle. the hallways, the other people are mere smears to the focus of your tunnel vision. ueda was just in sight, and he'll soon be slipping between crowds you could never catch in a million years, "this is my only chance!"

"like hell!" gojo grits, "quit it! be a normal fucking person."

"w-wait a minute—"

gojo places two large palms on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, and the fog clears as your eyes meet. the calm, composed, and serious glower shuts you up on its own merit and, shamefully, all you can think is how striking his features are.

he's breathtaking.

"breathe."

it comes as an order, though soft.

"and think."

your gaze lingers on the slope of his nose and how he holds himself, his entire posture radiating a fierce and all-consuming type of pride. his chin, his jaw, his cheekbones, the tilt of his lips, and you become overwhelmed. the need to shrink in and hide away has you clenching your teeth.

his grip tightens, "no. look at me."

and so you do. you have a mountain of complaints: to yourself, to the unfairness of this moment, because those fingers holding you up shouldn't exist, not around you. he shouldn't hold your face like this, tender, almost comforting, a thumb stroking your cheek absent-mindedly.

"good."

and, yes, a spark goes through you, and no, it is not that kind. it's panic, full-blown terror and the epiphany of what the fuck are you even doing?

"okay?" he asks.

"mmh," you nod quickly, "yeah, mhmm,"

his hands lower, come to rest atop your shoulders, and they're just as hot as a branding iron, "do you see why you're an embarrassment?"

and the magic ends as soon as it came, and he is repulsive again.

"buzzkill," you mutter, defeated.

“shoooko!” you barge into her room unannounced and uninvited, like it was your very own, and it might as well be by the amount of time you usually spend here. holding up a small gift bag, you present it with flourish, “i come with gifts!”

“welcome back,” she says dully, lounging on her messy bed and flipping through her fashion magazine, “how was the mission?”

you hum, tactfully avoiding the question by plopping down beside her, “i think i saw ueda-san at the train station!”

“ehhhhh?” now that gets her attention, and she’s all interest, “did you get a picture?”

“no, no,” you sigh, “was stopped by a lanky loser. gojo really is good for nothing.”

you miss the small smirk and the slight narrow of her eyes, “stopped you, huh? now why would he do that, i wonder..."

"because he's an asshole that wants to see me miserable?" you provide helpfully, getting more comfortable.

she flicks your forehead, and you wince, "you two are so silly."

"haibara-kun! nanami-kun!" you find them training in the dojo, and you barely manage to take off your shoes before you're sprinting full force to greet them, a gift in each hand, "i got you souvenirs from hitoyoshi!"

"mah, aren't you excited?" nanami stares with slight distaste when the box of sweets is literally shoved into his unsuspecting hand.

haibara, on the other hand, looks like he might grow a tail and start waggling it, "thank you so much, kawakami-sempai! these are so thoughtful, i appreciate them!" he immediately tears the packaging off, takes a hearty bite.

he sighs, content.

you wave off their praise like it's nothing. well, haibara's praise, but you’re used to nanami’s polite demeanor and quiet nature, so it must mean he is beyond ecstatic to receive such a thoughtful gift, "of course, of course! i gotta take care of my juniors,"

nanami grunts and examines the chocolate-coated cakes and cookies with an air of someone that is reluctantly pleased, "mmm, thanks."

you flash him an exaggerated smile, and he averts his gaze. got him, ha! you are the best sempai on this entire planet.

once you distributed the souvenirs, you swung by getou's dorm room. knocked, waited, only to realize he's not there. you left the gift bag by his door.

later, you find out that he’s gone on a mission, and that he likely won’t be back soon.

tags (couldn’t tag the marked). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @alygator77 , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy

203 notes · View notes

weasleyreidstyles · 9 months

Text

Serendipity

chapter four

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): fainting, hospitals, talk of dark magic and curses

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Mattheo guided you to an empty carriage with his palm gently grazing the small of your back. If you were in your right state of mind, you'd shove his hand away. Probably.

But at that moment, he was the only person holding you upright. You had no idea what was wrong with you, what this overwhelming feeling was.

It's just the adrenaline, tesoro. It'll pass. Theo had barely spoken to you since school started, not including the few nights you'd been on patrol with him late at night or in Ancient Runes and Transfiguration. Everytime you interacted with Mattheo he seemed to become agitated, as though it wasn't his idea to have his best friend teach you control.

You sat in the far corner of the carriage silently as they deliberated what to do about the necklace that was floating between you all, and for some reason you felt an odd tingling, cold sensation wash over you as it came closer to you.

"Should we take it to Snape? Or straight to Dumbledore?" Zabini asked as he used his wand to rotate the antique, looking at it with distaste. Theo and Mattheo seemed to debate this as Enzo nodded in agreement immediately.

"No we take it to Madame Pomfrey." Pansy injects. "She's going to need to see what cursed Katie. So she knows how to heal her."

"She could've died." you say quietly into the warmth of your scarf. They all turn to stare at you. "The necklace is famously doused with a death curse. Over a few dozen muggles supposedly died instantly when they touched it with their bare hands. Had she not had her gloves on, she would have died."

They look stricken, as if this had not occurred to them at all. The air in the carriage went frigid, suddenly. And not because of the chill.

"All the more reason to get it to Dumbledore." Zabini insists, but you vehemently disagreed.

"No, Pans is right. Madame Pomfrey needs to see the necklace. I doubt she'll be able to treat Katie here, Hogwarts won't have the necessary resources for this sort of thing."

Zabini seemed to think on this and in the end you all agreed; when you reached the Hospital Wing where Katie Bell was writhing helplessly in a bed, you all but collapsed into Mattheo's awaiting arms.

~∞~

You've discovered that fainting is an odd sensation. One moment you felt fine, fine enough to function normally at least, then the next minute everything is a hazy void of nothing.

You wake up in a bed in the hospital wing, Hermione next to you, reading a muggle novel with a furrowed brow. She jolts up when she sees that you're conscious.

"You're awake. I'll get Madame Pomfrey, hold on." And she's off down the aisle of warded beds, back seconds later with the matron in tow.

Madame Pomfrey fusses over you for a moment, asking you all the generic questions, that you answer only with half-truths, before leaving you alone with Hermione once again when you answered sufficiently enough.

"How do you really feel?" your best friend asked, her face full of worry. "Harry and Ron wanted to be here, Ginny too, but they have Quidditch practice."

"I feel like I got hit over the head with a hammer." you say, your voice rough and hoarse. "What even happened? The last thing I remember is walking into the Hospital Wing."

"Nott said you passed out when you came to hand the necklace in. Riddle got you settled into bed and let Madame Pomfrey do her work. But she hasn't said what is implicitly wrong with you." she explained and you stared up at her incredulously.

"But I only fainted? It's not that serious, is it?" your anxiety spikes and, not intentionally, you blocked out Hermione's voice in order to get some answers.

I hear helped me into bed? I could've sworn you don't have a nice bone in your body, guess I was wrong.

You're awake. He sounds surprised...relieved.

Obviously or I wouldn't be communicating with you right now, would I?

Funny. His voice is filled with mirth at your sarcastic response. How do you feel, sweetheart?

Do you want the lie I told so that I could leave the Hospital Wing quicker, or the real answer?

I'd hope that all the time we've spent in each other's presence would warrant the truth, Meadow.

I feel like shit, Mattheo. I don't even know what caused it, I felt fine when we were in the carriage.

Did you? He doesn't believe you.

I mean– I think so, I– My arm doesn't hurt as much. Do you think that has something to do with it?

Maybe. Is Granger still with you?

Yes, why?

No reason.

Mattheo?

He doesn't give you a response.

Hermione is snapping her fingers in your face and calling your name as if she'd been doing it for a hot minute.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asks, concern written all over your face.

"You know, I feel a little fatigued, I might try and sleep it off." you feel like the worst person in the world for lying to your best friend, but you want answers, and Mattheo seemed like the only person who would be brutally honest with you.

"Alright. I'll come back tomorrow with the others if you're still here after lessons are over." she smiles at you and guilt eats away at your chest.

"Thank you for staying with me, Mione." She squeezes your hand affectionately before she stands up and leaves you alone.

~∞~

Half an hour later it's not Mattheo who comes to visit like you secretly hoped for (but you were denying this to yourself vehemently). Instead Professor Dumbledore walks into the Wing with his usual grace and grandure.

"Good evening, Miss Meadows." he says cheerily as he stands before you bed. "May I sit?"

Bewildered, you nod your head silently.

"There's no need for the confusion," he says, clearly using Occlimency on you. "I see you have a good grasp on your mind. When did you learn to do this?"

"I like to learn new things." you say, brows furrowing at him as he gets comfortable in the plush seat beside your bed. He hums at your answer, rubbing his chin with the fingers of his good hand.

"I believe you experienced something rather....odd this afternoon." he began, his usually twinkling eyes holding an emotion that you could not place. "Can you describe it to me?"

"Um...I guess it started when we got closer to Katie and Leanne-" you start before cutting yourself off. "Actually, how is she? Katie? What happened to her?"

Dumbledore sighs as he answers.

"She was taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. They have far better equipped staff for dealing with dark curses. Poppy does not do that sort of healing."

"But she'll be okay?" you ask.

"She'll live, miraculously." he says before he focuses on you again. "Now back to you, Miss Meadow."

"Right. We were walking down the lanes, behind them and then I think they had stopped walking while they were arguing and it felt like an eery shift in the air. I don't know how else to describe it but then Katie touched the necklace and went up into the air. When she started screaming that's when Matt– Riddle– that's when Riddle and his friends turned up behind us. Enzo and Blaise went to find Hagrid and Ron, Theo and Riddle helped pull her down. I tried to help but when I touched her, my arm started to burn." you can fell the sting like a phantom now that you think about the pain.

"Interesting." he says as he pulls an old signet ring from his deep robe pocket, holding it out for you to take. "Can you tell me what you feel when you touch this, please?"

You do as he says and take the ring into your hands. Twisting it around your fingers, allowing your magic begins to swirl around it before it burns your fingers. You drop it in an instant. That same cold, tingling feeling you felt when Blaise rotated the necklace washed over you right afterward.

"It's cursed?" you asked, looking up at the Headmaster for confirmation, who is staring at you with knowing, inquisitive eyes.

"Something like that, yes." he says, his decaying hand twitches in response.

"Is that why your hand is like...that?" you ask, motioning to the appendage.

"Yes, rather nasty isn't it?" he says, tucking his hand away from your prying eyes. "I'm not sure what it is cursed by, but that is why I have asked Harry to befriend Professor Slughorn. I believe it has something to do with Lord Voldemort and Horis is the key to everything.

He ignores the way you instinctively flinch at the name. But thats when you notice that the ring that is still on your bed, holds the Riddle insignia. Mattheo's family crest.

"Sir, what's wrong with me?" you croak, as you turn the ring in your hands once again, letting your magic wash over it and dropping it into your lap when it zaps you with another stinging burn.

Professor Dumbledore removes the ring from your possession as he answers carefully.

"You're an incredibly smart witch, Miss Meadows." he states. "Professor Snape tells me of your incredible non-verbal abilities, and am I correct in assuming that you are also talented with wandless magic?"

You flush at this. "Yes sir."

"It is no surpise to me that your magic picks up on things that other witches and wizards may not." he says, tilting his head at you. "I believe you would make a good Unspeakable in the future, my dear. Or perhaps a curse breaker."

"What?" you ask, completely muddled by how cryptic he seemed to become. "Why do you say that? Shouldn't I be worried that I can somehow detect dark magic?"

"On the contrary...I believe it will be the most important skill you learn in this life."

With that note, he stands and with a simple goodbye leaves you lying alone in the bed with a thousand thoughts running through your head.

None of them bringing you any closer to a solid answer to the biggest questions you have:

Why the hell can you sense dark magic? Why did it cause your skin to burn? Why did it cause you to lose your grasp on consciousness?

~∞~

aaand the plot thickens...🤭🤭🤭

this was quite short but there will be more mattheo and meadow moments to come in the next one i promise xxx

comment to be added to the taglist!

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira

#mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter #albus dumbledore #serendipity series

540 notes · View notes

ceesimz · 4 months

Text

I Did It All.

"Alexia Putellas, what do you have to say about leaving the pitch for the final time?"

Twenty years done, not enough. Twenty years more, too much. A discrepancy far more complex than it needs to be.

Days spent treading the same grass that legends of the past had once done, winding and weaving fluidly through near faultless defences, roars of awe following as stars returned back to their rightful place in the sky with each jump of celebration.

Nights spent in clubs and restaurants, surrounded by people high on glory with medals around their necks, a privilege some may argue wasn't warranted. Though, when stadiums filled to their capacities chanted just one name over and over as if it was the holiest sacrament of Catalunya, fighting against that was as close to blasmephy as one could get.

To now slip off into the unknown, leaving behind only a name that no longer gave way to the presence of a figure the fields didn't deserve. The future would never know her, only her name, only her stats, only her achievements. Perhaps it was best to keep it that way.

Decades of critics speaking in such a way it was almost sacrilegious, months of shame in the media for purely being a human in the worst era of her life, weeks of slander and insults for fighting for rights in a system built to spite her, twisting her kindness into a weakness. But always, the rightful figure rises, pulling the sword from the stone and raising it to the skies in triumph. The crown could get heavy, but not once did it falter. Not once did it fall.

With the final few imprints of her boot studs as she stepped off of the turf, she simply relinquished the responsibility and handed the legacy over to the next generation, trusting them indefinitely to carry the honour in the same way she did. It wasn't just the handing over of a torch; it was the exchange of a rite of passage, a way of life, and a promise to uphold the standards of excellence and righteousness she had engraved into the sport she gave her life to. This passing of the baton wasn't solely focused on the end of something though, no, it was the beginning of something far more important than people could understand. It was time for the up-and-coming stars of the sport to take the pen and write their own chapters into the history books, encompassing the opportunity to build something even more empowering than those before them.

Allowing the armband she had worn with great pride to slip off her arm, she shed the weight of a thousand battles, all of the lessons she had learnt from each victory and each defeat now etched into every fibre of her being. The world watched as she exited the field for the last time, an understanding wordlessly divulged between millions at the recognition that this was a landmark moment.

Kaleidoscopes of nostalgia flitted past her eyes as if it were an old film roll, freeze-frames of time portraying unimaginably euphoric moments. Only for them to never be experienced again. Though every cheer, every chant, and every image of a shirt worn with her legacy stitched into the fabric of it, flooded through her veins, and would for evermore.

The high regard her peers held her to, whether she had come across them on the pitch time after time or never met them at all, was a testament to the irremovable mark she had left on the beautiful game. Other countless memorable figures that were desperate to meet her, brands desperate to work with her, all these examples of her undeniable impact.

Alexia Putellas never cared about being immortalised in her sport. She was just a girl from the outskirts of Barcelona, chasing a dream with her loved ones holding her hand along the journey. Some of those hands had slipped away as time went on, but that meant she only gained more guardian angels to watch over her. With a family as tight-knit as hers, each member past and present a constant reminder of her purpose, she never lost faith. Sure, there were moments where it faltered a little, but no matter how much people tried to make a mockery of her failures, she would step back up; each comeback better than the last.

Her longevity was unrivalled, performing to the highest standards near enough all the time, even when others didn't deserve to witness it. Still, she gave away every part of herself to a sport that tried to silence her and failed to give equity until the latest moment possible. Always undervalued and unappreciated in her place of work, but did that stop her? Dampen her spirits? No, of course it didn't. And she had ample evidence to prove it; awards, trophies, medals, and most importantly to her, an easier path paved for those following in her footsteps.

The final chapter was about to finish though, the book of a near flawless career soon to slam shut.

Football would feel the loss of her absence, but like the story of Ozymandias, the dust will blow over and erase her stature, the nature of the sport will run its course and she'll be a figment of the past. Her time had come, and she had done everything and more of what she needed to do.

She moved from an ever-present figure to just a silhouette with a few steps.

Here, now, at the crescendo of a note-worthy career run, there was only one way to answer such a question.

"I did it all."

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fic #woso imagine #I don't know what possessed me to write this

341 notes · View notes

valerie-is-in-the-cupboard · 2 months

Text

Out of darkness - Chapter One: Lost and Found - Alastor x human!fem!reader

A/N: Hi there! I wanted to share an idea that’s been bouncing around in my head, so I thought I'd let the world in on it. A few things to note:1. Some elements of this story are not canon for the HH universe—they’re mostly here to drive the plot. 2. Alastor might seem a bit different at first, but I aim to portray him as accurately as possible overall. 3. For the sake of the story, he won’t be aroace. 4. Some chapters will contain explicit NSFW content, specifically sexual scenes. To make it easy for you to skip these if they're not to your taste, I'll clearly separate them from the main chapters (e.g. Chapter 3.5, Chapter 4.5 etc.). These chapters won’t impact the main plot, so you won’t miss any essential story elements by skipping them. Please note, the story will also include elements like blood, gore, swearing and violence—integral parts of the Hazbin Hotel universe that cannot be omitted. If you're uncomfortable with any of these aspects, you might want to avoid reading the story altogether. However, if it's just the sexual content you're not interested in, you can simply skip the designated NSFW chapters. TW: Blood, mentions of murder.I hope you enjoy it! <3

Prologue

When a human strays from the right path, their eternity is doomed to be spent in the realm of suffering and pain – Hell. Normally, demons are confined within this place by a barrier, meant to protect poor souls from their wrath. But over time, the barrier’s magic has weakened, creating tiny fissures that link the human and demon worlds.

While these portals are easier for humans and angels to pass through, they have a fatal impact on demonic beings. Most demons are destroyed before they can even step into the human world. Those that do pass through are so weakened that they can be easily killed by human priests or simple humans with strong faith. And once a demon dies in the human world, their soul is forever destroyed. Consequently, demons have learned to ignore these portals, accepting their fate in Hell rather than attempting to escape.

Yet, the world is full of demons. Some live low-profile lives, trying to catch up on everything they missed while away, while others continue their mischief, hoping to go undetected and perhaps extend their existence a bit longer.

Chapter one: Lost and found

Days in Hell were monotonous. Murders, violence, and other horrific acts were considered normal here. Today was one of those days, with Hell engulfed by screams emanating from the infamous Radio Demon’s radio towers. This had been a common occurrence since Alastor spawned in Hell about seventy years ago. People could only speculate about the mystery surrounding his existence, making him even more ominous.

“And with that, my fellow sinners, we end today’s broadcast,” Alastor’s voice echoed through the towers. “I hope your day goes horribly wrong and maybe, just maybe, you’ll hear the next broadcast… or not.” His mischievous laughter sent shivers down the spines of sinners.

Pleased with his work, Alastor exited his tower, heading to buy some venison (or whatever kind of meat people sold here, pretending it was venison). As usual, he wore his wide smile, making everyone move out of his way. No one wanted to mess with the Radio Demon, and Alastor relished his power over the pitiful sinners.

As he walked the streets, a bright light caught his attention. His eyes widened in surprise as a portal opened in a dark alley. Despite his senses warning him, curiosity got the better of him. The thought of returning to the human world, as powerful as he was, never left his mind. He chuckled at the idea and approached the portal, feeling its warmth engulf his hand.

Dark. Everything went dark.

Suddenly, Alastor’s ears were filled with voices, and flashing lights surrounded him. Unbearable pain tore through his body, his skin and flesh being ripped apart. He heard dogs barking and then a loud bang. He woke up, drenched in a thin layer of cold sweat, disoriented and confused. Frantically scanning his surroundings, he realized he was in an unfamiliar apartment, starkly different from the horrors of Hell.

“Hello?” a voice startled him as he turned, only to face an unknown woman, looking at him and holding a cup of tea. She looked… human. Was this the human world? Was he back?

He tried to get up, only to be met with incredible exhaustion, almost like his muscles failed to work. A deep groan escaped his mouth, as he laid back on the soft sofa.

The woman rushed towards him. “It’s ok. I think you need to rest a bit.” She said, placing the cup on the table. Alastor's heart was racing, a feeling of utter confusion and dread overcoming him. This human world was not what he expected and the excruciating pain that he had just endured... it made no sense. As the woman spoke, he looked at her with narrowed eyes, wariness filling his gaze.

"Who... are you?" his voice came out hoarse and unfamiliar to himself.

She softly smiled. “My name is (y/n).” She answered. Alastor's expression barely changed, still wary of the situation. He slowly pushed himself back into a sitting position, wincing slightly from the effort.

"And... how did I end up here? In your... home?" he inquired, his eyes roaming the surroundings, taking in every detail of the room.

“I’ll explain everything. First of all, do you want me to call someone? An ambulance… maybe a relative?”

Alastor's expression hardened even further, a look of confusion on his face. He slowly shook his head, his voice growing a bit colder.

"No. No one. I don't… have anyone." he replied, a pang of loneliness he hadn't experienced in a long time slowly creeping upon him. He continued to look at her, his eyes now more guarded, less vulnerable.

“Well, in this case…” she started, but first handed him the cup of tea, Alastor reluctantly grabbing it. “You were freezing… It’s the middle of November… The last thing you want is getting hypothermia.”

Alastor's expression softened slightly as he looked at the cup in his hands. The warmth from the liquid instantly flooded his senses, a subtle comfort washing over him.

"The weather... It was cold," he murmured as he took a small sip, the hot liquid sending a jolt through his still-weakened body.

The girl smiled, trying to hide the worry in her mind. Maybe he had memory loss or perhaps he was attacked by someone. A thousand questions flooded her mind.

“I found you in front of my door, passed out.” She explained. “It was almost freezing outside and your clothes didn’t seem so… cosy.”

Alastor silently nodded, listening to her words. He took a moment to look down at his attire, his usual red and black suit looking a bit rough. A soft, scoff-like laugh escaped his lips as he realized how ridiculous he must have looked. Suddenly, he looked at his hands… They were human. Confusion washed over him once more as he tried to stand up, looking for a mirror.

“Hey, I don’t think you sho-“ the girl tried to stop him, but the adrenaline kicked in, making him stand up and run to a mirror he saw on a desk. He looked at himself… It was still him but… his human self from when he was alive.

Alastor's eyes widened with shock as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. It was him, yet not at the same time. His human form... He barely recognized it, the last time he saw it so long ago.

"Impossible," he muttered, his hand slowly going to his face, his fingers caressing his human skin, still in disbelief.

(y/n) looked at him confused… and a bit scared. She was waiting for her brother whom, she messaged before Alastor woke up. Truthfully, she was afraid to be alone with a strange man and now knowing he had no one, she couldn’t let him wander alone in this state.

“You seem… confused. Were you attacked by someone?” she asked, genuinely worried.

Alastor's gaze flickered from the mirror to the girl, a mix of confusion and annoyance in his eyes. He hated being in this vulnerable state, being questioned... but he had nowhere else to go.

"Attacked?" he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. "No. I wasn't... attacked," he answered, his eyes falling to the ground for a moment, his thoughts elsewhere, replaying the memories of the portal, the pain...

"I..." he began but then stopped. There was no point in trying to explain it to a human. (y/n) gently touched his arm, making him cringe slightly. Her skin was warm, a stark contrast to his usual coldness. She guided him back to the couch and sat in front of him.

“You need to give me some explanation so I can help you… What’s your name?” she said.

"My... name?" he echoed, his eyes meeting hers. There was a moment of silence, a small battle between his instinct to lie and the strange feeling of… trust. "Al... Alastor." he finally said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Alastor, do you have any place to go?”

Alastor's lips curled into a bitter smile. He didn't have a home and hadn't had one for 70 years. Hell was his home and yet, here he was, sitting in a human's living room.

"No," he replied, his eyes wandering around the room, avoiding her gaze. (y/n) sighed, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, someone rang the door and the girl got up, closing the door of the living room behind her.

Alastor could hear someone come in and then muffled voices.

“What did you want me to do?” (y/n) would almost whisper, frustration in her voice.

“I don’t know, call the police maybe?” a male voice would whisper back, angrily. “It’s not like you found a puppy at your door. You found a man! A man who could've hurt you, (y/n)!”

Alastor could easily hear the conversation from the other room. His eyes narrowed annoyance and dread washing over him. The police... he couldn't afford to get tangled with the police. The door opened and a tall, muscular guy, followed by (y/n) entered, his gaze fixated on Alastor.

“Hey, man!” He said and extended his arm towards Alastor. “I’m David, (y/n)’s brother.” He clarified.

Alastor looked up at David, his eyes studying him. He instinctively recoiled at the sudden presence, not thrilled about the new arrival. Yet, he didn't have much of a choice. He tentatively took the extended hand, shaking it with a firm grip.

"Alastor," he replied plainly, his voice guarded. His eyes darted towards her, still trying to gauge his situation and his chances of escaping it. David sat down, trying to find his words.

“Are you ok? Are you injured or anything?” David asked him.

Alastor let out a low sigh, his eyes roaming over his body. He had no major injuries, just the exhaustion and weakness that came with the... human form.

"No. I'm..." he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, "I'm fine. Just... tired." he answered, his gaze flickering to the side, avoiding David's intense stare. The man prepared to ask more questions when (y/n) intervened.

“Maybe you should rest, Alastor. It’s late and even if you wanted, it wouldn’t be safe for you to leave now. We’ll see what we can do tomorrow, okay?” (y/n) said, smiling, trying to make him relax.

Alastor's gaze slowly shifted towards her, his expression remaining stoic. She was right. He was too weakened now to do anything. He had to think. He slowly nodded, a small gesture but one that came a bit reluctantly.

"Fine. But only for tonight," he replied, his voice firm yet guarded.

(y/n) looked in some of her drawers and took out some clothes, handing them to Alastor.

“My cousin gave me these so I can wear them around the house. I never did though, they’re too big for me. I think they will fit you.” She said. “There’s the bathroom if you wanna take a shower.”

Alastor looked at the clothes, his eyes widening as he analyzed them. He couldn't remember the last time he wore something made from such a soft material. It wasn't his style, but he silently accepted them.

"Thank you," he said, his voice gruff but surprisingly civil. He got up from the couch, the clothes in his hands, and walked to the bathroom.

The warmth of the water engulfed his body, sending shivers down his spine. It seemed like an eternity since showers felt so good. He let the water fall onto his body, thinking about what to do. Should he kill them? But where could he go? He didn’t even know what changed since he died… No, he had to think this through. He had to wait. His thoughts tossed and churned in his head, a maelstrom of emotions and memories. But deep within, there was a flicker of determination, a spark of survival instinct that kept him grounded. He turned off the water and got dressed in the new clothes.

He exited the bathroom and saw (y/n), preparing what seemed to be a bedroom, probably the one he’ll spend his night in. His eyes followed her around. She was… so nice to him, so attentive. It’s been a while since someone acted like this towards him without wanting something in return. She looked at him and smiled.

“Feeling better?” She asked.

Alastor silently nodded, his eyes fixed on her movements. There was something... comforting in her smile, something unfamiliar yet somehow soothing. He walked closer to her, his footsteps a bit more steady than when he first arrived.

"A bit," he replied, his voice still low but lacking some of its earlier sharpness. "You... you have done a lot for a stranger."

She smiled kindly.

“Ah, don’t mention it! It’s the bare minimum.” She said and looked at him, but her expression suddenly turned into confusion. “Hey, are you hurt?” she asked pointing at his shoulder.

Alastor's gaze followed hers, only then noticing the blood on his shoulder. He tried to recall if he felt any pain, but nothing came to mind.

“May I see?” (y/n) asked.

He nodded silently, his voice quiet. "Yeah. Sure," he said. He reluctantly took off his shirt, noticing her blushing at his actions.

He could feel her eyes on the injury as she approached, the proximity making him slightly uncomfortable, but he let her look at his shoulder without protest.

She inspected the wound and rushed to a drawer, taking out a bottle and some bandages. "it seems to be a scratch that probably started bleeding in the shower." she clarified. "May I?" she asked, showing him the supplies, suggesting that she take care of it.

Alastor's eyes darted between the supplies and her face, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He wasn't a fan of being tended to, but he knew he was in no position to protest.

"Fine. Go ahead," he grumbled, his expression guarded, almost reluctant.

(y/n) started taking care of the wound, her warm hands brushing over his skin, making shivers run down his spine. He wanted to hate it but he didn’t entirely.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” She said, but his mind was too preoccupied with taking in every warm touch.

Alastor sat stiffly as she worked on his shoulder, her hands warm against his skin. It was an almost soothing experience, the sensation of her touch, her gentle care, stirring something within him that he had long forgotten.

His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, his instincts screaming at him to withdraw, to push her away. But his heart longed for more.

After bandaging the wound, her hands left his body, coldness attacking it once again. As her hands left his body, Alastor felt a chill run through him, a pang of emptiness filling the space where she once touched. He didn’t want to admit it, but he longed for her warmth, for the strange comfort that she provided without even realising it.

He tried to shake off the feeling, his mind screaming at him to remain cold and detached. But the lingering memory of her touch still burned in his heart.

“I’m gonna bring you a new shirt.” She said and looked at the stained one. “I swear, a part of me hopes you are a serial killer so you can help me get this stain off.” She chuckled. If only she knew who Alastor was…

Alastor allowed a small, wry smile to tug at the corners of his lips at her unintended jest. A serial killer... If only she knew the true extent of his past, the countless lives he had sent to their doom.

He watched her leave, his gaze lingering on the door as it closed behind her. He quietly sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts swirling in his head, the memory of her touch still warm on his skin.

Shortly after, she returned and handed him the shirt. “You good?” She asked him as he put the shirt on.

Alastor silently slipped the shirt on, the material soft against his skin. He nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "Yeah. I’m good," he replied, his voice a bit more gruff than before.

He was far from “good” he was far from even being “ok”. But there was no way he would let her know that.

She smiled. “I’m in the living room if you need anything. ‘Night, Alastor!” She said and closed the door behind her.

Alastor watched her leave, her gentle smile etched in his mind. As the door closed behind her, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh. The room suddenly felt cold and empty. He lay down on the bed, the silence of the room surrounding him like a shroud.

He tried to make sense of the strange emotions swirling inside him. The warmth he felt in her presence, the comfort of her touch... It was all new to him. Something happened to him through that portal. His demon self was too weakened.

He looked at the ceiling, thinking of what to do. Maybe he should kill them… Before they get too close to finding the truth. He thought a few hours about this. He would kill David first, while he was asleep. There was no way he could take him in a fight in this state, so this was the best solution. As for (y/n)... His stomach twisted a bit at the thought of killing her. He wasn’t a fan of killing women when he was alive either… Besides, she was so kind to him, so sweet. No, he would not kill her. At least not now.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He quickly got up and went to the bathroom, quietly looking through the drawers and he found what he needed.

Alastor silently took the pair of scissors and entered the living room, making sure the two were asleep. He watched (y/n) sleeping on the couch, her knees to her chest. She seemed so peaceful. He had to be quick because he knew she would scream.

He approached David, who slept on the armchair, snoring. Alastor raised the scissors… He had to do it.

Go to: Next Chapter

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #human reader #fem reader #female reader #x reader #x female reader #fanfic #out of darkness

170 notes · View notes

sarawritestories · 6 months

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 10

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary:

Content Warning: MINORS DNI 18+ Whipping, degradation (not by Cassian), BJ, Not proofread

A/N PLEASE READ: Okay, this episode does get heavy, though we will be ending on a happier note. But after Chapter 11 and probably 12, the story is going to take a dark turn as we get closer to the impending war in Hybern. I just want you guys to be aware.

Also if the ending feels a little rushed I'm sorry. I wanted you guys to get this as quickly as possible which meant that i needed to cut some stuff to use for the next chapter.

Word Count: 7.9K (Oops)

Unwavering Masterlist Chapter 9

I slowly rose to my feet, “What are you doing here?”

Xavier was the one to answer his lips pursed as if I repulsed him, “Word travels fast in small villages, Doll.” He took a step forward and I could hear Cassian’s instructions in my head; Never turn your back on an opponent. You leave yourself vulnerable. I angled my body, facing both men and having my back toward the wall. His instructions from our training continued, check for exits. Your human body is frailer than mine so if you have the chance to run take it. The window by the bed and the door are blocked with no easy exit. “We heard the Archeron twins had returned. We had to see for ourselves if it was true. We stopped by the manor, and before we could emerge from the forest, you bolted out like a doe on a hunt. We followed.”

Graysen took a step forward I refused to take one back, I lifted my chin, he grips it and yanks it down. “There was a time she was as obedient as a doll.” He pinched where he had his hold on me, and I snarled and swatted his hand and he chuckled. “Now she has a bite.”

“She always had it.” I glanced over to Xavier, “Why did you think I wanted her so badly?” A smirk I once thought was mischievous and handsome, was something darker and threatening. I blinked and suddenly his hand gripped the back of my neck, “I wanted to break her.” He squeezed.

I gripped his arm and twisted his arm until he was pushed on the wall. A steel blade hidden in a sheath on my thigh, a gift from Cassian before we left for the human realms this morning. I pressed the blade to his throat, “What do you both want?” I grit out.

The cold bite of steel was against my own throat, “We want you back in the human lands where you belong. I know my soon to be bride would like at least one of her sisters back home” I dropped the knife. “Glad you see things-“

I turned quickly and punched Graysen in the nose. Lifted my skirt and ran out the door only for multiple hands to grab me. As I thrashed Graysen and Xavier exiting the cottage, blood trickled down the former’s nose. A hand gripped my hair and yanked forcing my head up, and I cry out in pain. “Cry out all you want, no one can hear you.” Xavier comes close and my chest heaves, as his leather clad finger grazed my cheek, taking advantage of my mouth being parted slid his digit in my mouth pressing down on my tongue as I pressed. “You know what to do.” His eyes were distant and violent.

I leveled him with a glare and bit his finger and felt hands gripping me tightened around my arms as Xavier yelled. In a rapid movement, he smacked my face. “Maybe the fae men, that have been keeping you have been too soft.” He gripped my neck and squeezed. “I think its time to remind you what you are and where you belong.” He squeezed tighter and I gasped, air refusing to reach my lungs before releasing me. “Strip her.” He turned and walked back toward his friend as the sound of fabric tearing was met with the cold bite of air on my bare skin. My body began to tremble as I lowered my shields and screamed out for help hoping Rhys would hear me. Hoped Cassian would find me.

Children’s laughter wafted through my ears as I walked through a village next to mine. I had just gotten done looking for a job. Feyre came home for the second time with no game, and I couldn’t just sit by and watch our family starve. I woke up early and headed into town. Unfortunately, no one had work or conveniently were capped out on people. I sat at the edge of the fountain and pressed my palm into my eyes.

“Now why is a pretty girl like you crying.” I looked up and found a handsome man in uniform his blonde hair down and his eyes were as blue as an ice sculpture.

“It’s nothing and its not kind to lie, Sir,” I sniffled, and rose, “I also should get going. My family needs me.”

A hand gripped my wrist halting me, I turned to him and was acutely aware of him rubbing his thumb against my pulse. “I am not lying. You are beautiful.” His hand moved up from my wrist to grip my fingers. He presses his lips over my knuckles and excitement pools in my belly. “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Xavier. What’s yours beautiful?”

Heat crept into my cheeks as I averted his gaze, “Y/N.”

He hummed, “Well, Y/N, I’ve never seen you around before. What brings you down to our humble village.”

I bit my lip, “I’m trying to find work.” No need to mention how poor we were, that was evident in my appearance.

“Well, it just so happens,” Another voice I turned and a brown-haired man in fine attire stepped forward. “I’m in need of a new maid.”

I bowed my head and curtsied, “It would be an honor to serve my lord.”

Xavier chuckled behind me, “Believe me, baby the honor will be ours.

Cassian’s POV

Calling out for Y/N, the front door slammed, and the house fell into an uncomfortable silence. Nesta had already left for her room and Feyre reached out and grabbed my hand as Elain sat up placing her hand on the edge of the table smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. “Feyre, did she ever mention Graysen to you at all?” My eyebrow lifts in question.

Feyre’s brow also goes up surprised by the question, “No, why do you ask?”

Elain frowns, “He said he knows her well, they used to be friendly. He said his best friend and her were smitten. Then she just disappeared and never spoke to them again. I almost didn’t want to believe him, but he looked so devastated by the fact that she was gone and had been taken,” She paused wrinkling her nose not liking the word and it was similar thing her baby sister had done, but she corrected, “staying in the fae lands. He insisted that we would get her back and she would be where she belonged.”

“Does she belong here?” All heads turned to me as I voiced the question. I rose from my chair and watched as the middle Archeron’s sister eyes widened. “From just the brief stories both of your sisters had shared with me. She has felt more at home in my court than she has ever has under your care.” She flinched at the words, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. “She is no one’s property, and no one is allowed to make decisions on where she belongs, Y/N is the only one who makes that decision.”

Elain raised her chin at me, “You’re right, General. Now go get her.” She pointed to the door, a fierceness in her doe eyes, there appeared to be more than what people assume of this Archeron Sister. and walked toward the stairs most likely to find Nesta.

There was a long pause, “I’m going to go get her.”

Azriel rose from his seat, “Cass, we have to be smart about this.”

I glared at him, “She could be in danger.”

Azriel returned the glare with one of his own, “She could be perfectly fine. If we barge into places trying to find her, we could run the risk of breaking the treaty. Then we lose all leverage of working with the human queens.”

I gritted my teeth, “I could care less about the damn treaty.”

Rhys rose with his palms up, as if he was approaching a wild animal, “Listen I know you want to go after her, but Az is right we need to be-“ Feyre’s painful scream caused him to pause. I rounded the corner to her as Rhys placed a gentle hand behind her neck as Feyre covered her ears. “Feyre Darling, what is it?”

“Rhys, make it stop. I can hear her voice in my head. Make it stop.” Feyre whimpered and I laced my hand into hers and she gripped my hand tightly, Az moved closer as well his shadows swirling and moved around Feyre trying to provide comfort.

Rhys and I exchange a look, “Who do you hear Feyre?” He wiped the tears from her face with his thumb and then moved her hands from her ears.

The Archeron twin squeezed my hand, “She is calling for you Rhys,” her eyes met mine, “She’s screaming for you, Cassian.”

I took a deep breath, “Say her name, Feyre.”

Rhys’ hissed as he reached for his wrist, the one that mirrors Y/N’s. “Y/N.” Feyre whispered.

Azriel was the one to speak, “Rhys?”

Rhys’ eyes flared with anger, “Let’s go get out girl back.”

Feyre stood and Rhys released his grip on her, “I’m coming with.”

Rhys smirked, “That was a given. She is your twin. I would never separate you.”

Feyre turned to me anger in her blue grey eyes, “General, Go get my sister back.”

I kissed her cheek and give her a smirk, “It would be my pleasure.”

Reader POV

They shackled my hands the chain that was being pulled by Xavier and dragged me into the forest. “Please don’t do this.” I whispered; my breathing labored from his unrelenting pace. “Please I’m begging.”

Xavier stopped between two trees that were evenly that had low hanging branches ropes tied to them already. I tried stepping back but a hand collided with my ass causing me to step forward Graysen chuckled. Bastard. Xavier yanked the chain of my wrists and gripped my waist pressing me flush against his chest. “Stop squirming, Doll.” Xavier whispered in my ear. “It’s not going to help you.” He kissed my cheek, and I dodged my head. His free hand gripped my face. “You are being so naughty.” I tracked two guards walking up to us. I could feel his smirk against my skin, and I wanted to vomit. “We’re going to fix that. Get you back to how I like you.”

The guards unlock my shackles and are quick to grab my wrists. “Get off me!” The two men tightened their grip, I dragged my feet, The two men didn’t miss a step and got me to the middle of the trees where two other guards handed them the ropes. I kept hearing Cassian’s voice Fight, Princess, Fight! Though when both guards tightened the knots on my wrist tightly to the point of me yelping in pain, fighting seemed pointless. My arms were spread, and the ropes were looped around my ankles spread my legs apart.

Xavier walked around with a smirk on his face, a familiar leather bite in his hands. “If you apologize, we could lesson your punishment.”

I spat at him, “Go fuck yourself.”

He sighed, “Suit yourself. 10 lashes for abruptly leaving me, 10 lashes for going to the Fae realm, 20 for punching Graysen in the face, and 10 for your foul mouth.” He was about to shove the bit in my mouth then paused, “You will count each strike. Stop counting, or stumble over we start from the beginning.” He gripped my corset, took a dagger, and sliced the fabric and it drifted to the ground exposing my back. “Do you understand?”

I lifted my chin and kept my mouth shut in defiance and quirked a brow at him. He tsked and looked passed me giving him with a nod. The sound of the whip cracking and pain laced my back, and I clenched my jaw. “Answer him, Y/N.” Graysen sounded behind me.

I kept my lips closed. Whack. I closed my eyes as the pain burned into my skin tears slid down my cheeks. Whack. I gripped the ropes binding me and I refused to cry in front of them. “Get the Barbed whip Graysen.”

My eyes shot open; I shook my head, tugging my bonds the rope beginning to chafe my skin,“No, please. I understand, sir. I understand. Please.” Xavier held his hand up. I whimpered, “Please, Sir.”

“Alright, Alright,” He cups my cheek and presses his lips to mine and my brain screamed, Wrong, wrong, wrong. “My good little slut.” I nodded as tears fell down my face. “Say it. Say you are my good little slut.”

I hang my head down low, my shoulders drooping. “I’m your good little slut.”

“Count.” Xavier ordered with that cold tone.

Whack! The bite of the barbed whip dug into my skin; I screamed as Graysen pulled the whip back. I gritted my teeth. “One”

Whack! Another blood curdling scream escaped my lips, my skin felt like it was on fire as he pulled the whip back. Tears trailed down my face as the warmth of blood trickled down my back. “Two.” I whispered. Xavier chuckled as he wiped my tears.

Whack! My whole body jolted, and my arms began to quiver as the whip landed on of the open wounds. “Please.” I couldn’t control the waiver in my voice, “Stop, please.” I whimpered as Xavier gripped my face.

He gives my cheek a few pats. “That wasn’t a number, Doll.” My eyes widened. “Take it from the top.”

I shook my head, “No, no it was three,” Panic settles in as Xavier stepped back, “No please!” Whack! I cried out my body completely shaking as my back felt like it was being shredded. I hung my head down as sobs racked out my body. My lips were chapped from dehydration, “One,” I croaked.

Xaviers fingers grazed my neck and as the next blow hit, he squeezed my throat so I couldn’t scream and more importantly I couldn’t count.

Blood was pooling at my feet clinging to my heels. “Looks like someone is not playing fair.” Stars specked my visions as I looked up and sobbed. Cassian was leaning against a tree with a lethal grace. His eyes flicked to mine for a moment, his gaze trailing down to see the blood pooling, his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as he pushed off the tree. “I suggest you release my princess.”

Xavier puffed out his chest and laughed squeezing my neck, eliciting a whimper to slip past my lips. Cassian snarled, “Princess?” My ex looked at me as my vision was blackening around the edging my vision and he let me go as I gasped for air. “A pleasure whore at best.” He looked at Cassian’s wings, “Or maybe the Fae’s who-“

Swiftly Cassian’s blade met his neck, “Care to finish that sentence?” Cassian’s grin was terrifying gone was the gentle male and in his place: The General of the Night Court’s Armies. Through clenched teeth he said, “Cut. Her. Down. Now.”

Xavier smirked, “Or what?”

The sound of an arrow taking flight and taking purchase in a body followed by a low grunt and thud. I sob mixed with a laugh escaped me. Feyre was here. Against Cassian’s hues of Cobalt blue brightens his face. Azriel. I could barely keep my head up when Cassian answered. “You’ll find yourself at the mercy of her twin.”

Xavier walked behind me, the sound of arrows whirling and screaming flooding my ears. Keeping my eyes open was becoming difficult as one hand was cut free, my leg was next, he moved to the other leg. Before he cut the rope on my wrist, he leaned close in my ear. “I’ll see you again doll,” He licked my ear he speared two fingers in one of the wounds on my back. Stars banked my vision as I unleashed a strained scream that was closer to a howl, and I collapsed before my body could crumple to the floor, warm calloused hands caught me, and darkness pulled me under.

Cassian’s POV

This fucker wanted to die. Feyre and Az took out the rest of the guards, the other finely dressed human had fled, Y/N’s tormentor following suit with him. I was about to pass Y/N to Rhys to go after him, but he stopped. “We have more pressing issues then them.” Rhys said looking down at his mate’s twin. I looked down at my sweet girl who was unconscious in my arms acutely aware that her blood was soaking through my hands, her breathing was shallow.

Feyre and Azriel ran over to us, Feyre falling to her knees as looked at her sister. She stroked her paled cheek, “We need to get her to healer.” Az said. “I can get her back to Madja.” I looked at my brother, his eyes had grown distant, no doubt thinking about the scars on his hands and how her screams sounded familiar to him.

“No.” I whispered, Az met my gaze, “Winnow me to edge, then come back here.”

“Do it now!” Rhys grated out, “She doesn’t have a lot of time.” He reached down and grabbed Feyre, “Cassian will take good care of her, Darling.”

Feyre looked at me, “Promise?”

I nodded, “She will be well cared for.” Feyre leaned into Rhys as silver lined her eyes. I looked to Az who grabbed my arm as I held Y/N close in my arms.

Shadows enveloped up and once we came back two, we were on the boarder of the Night Court. Azriel looked at Y/N, He gently swiped her cheek. “In the House of Wind, there is a salve in my drawer for scars it helps numb the pain and helps when the scars are healed. Put it on her when she comes to. She’ll need it.”

I nodded and stretched my wings, “Thanks, brother.” Azriel nodded and he was enveloped in his shadows as I took to the skies. My siphons flared as I created a shield around us to keep the wind from pressing her naked form. I pushed harder than I have in getting to Velaris. Once in town I pounded on Madja’s door.

She opened grumbling about being woken up and met my ears before she opened the door. “You better have a good reason for-“ Madja opened the door and saw that the blood pooling at her front step. “Come on, hurry.” I stepped inside and she instructed me to the home office, “Place her face down.” I laid her on the cot and gently flipped her on her stomach and my heart broke, her back was marred up with deep gashes but past the blood pale raised skin raised on her back as if this wasn’t the first time she had endured the end of a whip.

She groaned and my heart wretched, her eyes opened slightly, and she groaned. “Ca-“she coughed. I knelt in front of her and pushed some of her hair that was clinging to her forehead.

“Shhh, don’t try to speak,” I ran my fingers through her hair, “We’re getting you all fixed up.” Y/N nodded, and she moved her arm wincing in pain as she did as Madja began working. She held out her hand palm up, a silent question; stay with me? I lace my hand with hers, “I’m not going anywhere.” She was fighting to keep her eyes open I pressed my forehead to hers, “Close your eyes, Princess. I’ll be here when you wake.” At that she closed her eyes still clutching my hand.

Madja held her hands over her back, “I can’t guarantee I can heal this without their being scars.” She tsked, “Who would do something like this?” I pulled her hand closer to me and placed a featherlight kiss. “I don’t know, Madja. She didn’t deserve this.”

Xavier’s POV

I stormed into Graysen’s office and threw the first thing in my sight which was a decanter of whiskey. “Will you calm down?” Graysen voice rang out as he shut the door behind him.

“We had her! Those Fae Bastards.” I punched his wall, my fist breaking through the drywall. “I hate them.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m going to meet with the human queens let them know they broke the treaty.” Graysen with an unsettling calm.

“Fuck the treaty. I want my toy back.”

Graysen leveled me with a cold stare, “Find a new toy. I mean there is one last Archeron sister you can have.”

“I. don’t. want. Her. I want Y/N.” My mind trailed back where she was on her knees looking up at me with the upmost obedience as I defiled her face, never breaking eye contact. “She is mine and those fae monsters will not take her from me,” I straightened my back and dusted myself off. A plan forming in my head. “Don’t contact the queens they don’t give a damn about that treaty. Also, it interferes with my plan.”

Graysen’s back went ramrod, “What are you plotting, Xavier?”

I smirked, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, Gray.” I walked out of his office with a smile on my face and a plan to get my girl.

Reader POV

My eyes creaked open and I was in my room in Rhys’ townhome. I sat up and winced as my back throbbed. The shuffling beside me caused me to jolt as I turned my head to find Cassian in a chair asleep. The blanket he was using had draped down to his waist exposing his bare chest tattoos climbing up his arms meeting at the center of his clavicle. I took a moment to admire him, his head was leaning against the chair, his hair was down, and a few strands were in his face. So, at peace and beautiful when he slept. I leaned over to move his hair out of his face when his eye opened and I snapped my hand back. “I could feel you watching me sleep, Princess.” I averted my gaze heat climbing my gaze.

Memories flooded to the surface, I bit my lip, and I lowered my head in shame. I felt a dip in the bed his warm fingers gently guiding my face to look at him, “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts. Physically. Emotionally.” I swallowed down the tears, “I tried to fight.” I whispered, not realizing I was leaning into his touch. “Tried putting all that training to use. Doesn’t work when there is a swarm of men waiting for you.” I looked down at my oversized shirt that met my knees, I furrowed my brow confused, “Um.”

Cassian held his one hand up, “Madja changed you after doing what she could for your back. I didn’t want to go through your things so.” He gestured to his shirtless body.

Something tightened in my chest, and I could feel the heat searing in my cheeks. “You gave me your shirt?” He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Princess.” Cassian smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Madja, was able to heal most of your back some of the wounds but there were a few that were deep that she could only partially heal. She was able to stop their bleeding and stitched you up but those are going to have to heal on your own. You’ll be tender for a few days.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, and it was his turn to look away clearing his throat, “I should have gotten their sooner.”

I grabbed his hand, and he met my stare again, maintaining eye contact I lifted his hand and kissed his palm. “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, Cassian. I may not look it right now, but I’m just happy you found me when you did.” I heard him intake a breath sharply, as I began to press my thumbs into his palms, needing to do something. Massaging his hand, I watched his eyes flutter close, and a hum of approval moved passed his lips. His eyes opened again; his pupils blown out; he leveled me with a stare. “What?” I blinked and paused my hands.

“Why are you massaging my hand?” his voice cracked slightly.

I gave him a small smile and shrugged, “You’re a fighter, your hands hold a lot of tension, this will help.”

I was about to continue when his other hand covered mine, “Princess, that’s not what I’m asking.”

I sighed and moved his hand, so I could continue massaging the one in my lap. “I need to do something as a thank you. Also, if it’s something that pleases you, I want to do it.”

Cassian gently pulled his hand away from mine, so I was forced to look at him, “You don’t need to thank me or please me. Who the fuck made you think that you need to please those that help you when you need.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “Xavier.” Cassian’s face softened. “He said whores should be grateful and thank them for pulling them out of bad situations.” I looked down, “He always liked me on my knees for him when he did something for me. I like pleasing and caring for others, and I am aware that he took advantage of that.”

Cassian growled and I flinched, he must have realized because he got up, “Scoot forward a bit for me,” I did as he asked and he slid behind me, “Lean back if you’d like,” I scooted back and leaned back and was met with his warm chest against my aching back. He leaned his head on his shoulder and his arm gripped my middle, “You will never have to thank me for anything. You owe me nothing. I helped you because the idea of you being in danger makes me ill. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, and I couldn’t be there to stop it. That’s how much I care for you. My care for you will never need to be paid by you. Ever!” His nose grazed my neck, and I angled my head, so he had better access, and he pressed a chaste kiss at my pulse point. “Do you understand, Princess?”

Tears were in a free fall, and I was so tired of crying, “I understand, Cassian.” I paused and leaned my head against his, “I care for you too, Cass.” I yank of his hand from my waist, “Your hands are full of tension will you please let me do this. Because I want to.”

He chuckled and the sound was music to my ears. “Sure, Princess.” I proceeded to massage his hand working out the knots on each finger, Cassian groaned, and I paused. “Don’t stop. It feels good.” I smiled and continued as he went on, “I should be giving you a massage.”

Rubbing down his wrist, I shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that at a later date. Right now, I want to take care of you.” Before he could open his mouth, I cut him off, “I am acutely aware that I need to take care of myself. You can take care of me when I’m done, okay?” I sighed, “Just let me do this, please.”

“One hour, then its back to me taking care of you.” I nodded but he nudged his head against mine, and moaned in my ear as I reached a tender spot. Heat pooled in my stomach, “When did you get so good at this?”

Placing his arm back around my waist his fingers squeezed my stomach and another wave of heat of arousal hit my core. He inhaled and then quickly lightened his grip, as I picked up his other hand, “I would massage my father’s leg after it was shattered. He would wince in pain constantly, especially with the seasons changing. I hated seeing him in pain, so I started massaging his leg. Hoping that if I eased the pain, it would be enough for him to get back to working.” I shook my head, “It’s in the past.” Cassian only hummed in answer. “When does Feyre, Rhys, and Az come home?”

“Later tonight, Rhys wants to make sure another ambush doesn’t happen at your sister’s manor.” I nodded kneading his calloused flesh. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, “No.” I closed my eyes for a moment the crack of the whip ringing in my ears followed by screams and tears, “I haven’t fully processed that last night was real and not a nightmare.” I patted his hand, “You’re done.”

Cassian remained quiet and wrapped his other arm around my torso. I leaned into him, my head laying on his chest. He leaned his head against mine, “You hungry?”

My stomach grumbled in response, “Does that answer your question, General?”

Cassian flicked my nose, “Come on, let’s go get some food.” Cassian slid off the bed and held out his hand for me to take. Accepting his offering he gently helped me up and chuckled as his shirt hung right above my knees. “You look so cute.”

I blushed, “You’re a giant you know that?” He led me down to the kitchen not bothering to put on a shirt. He released my hand and gripped my hips hoisting me up onto the kitchen counter next to the stove. I giggled, “What you don’t want my help?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, “No I want you to sit right there and let me take care of you.” He kissed my forehead. “Okay.”

I realized that I don’t have to look up and meet his eyes and then look around the kitchen, “Huh.”

“What?” He scrunched his nose looking around trying to see what I was staring at.

“This is what it feels like to be gigantic.” I looked at Cassian with my most innocent smile. “Fascinating.”

He clenched his hands into fist and placed both arms on either side of me, his face getting closer to mine, his face intense as he leans into my ear and blows lightly against the shell of it causing me to shiver. “I personally prefer the view under me.” A light nip, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan, “My wings aren’t the only thing that are gigantic about me, Princess.”

I was beginning to get lightheaded as his nose grazed my neck. “Cassian.” I moaned and quickly covered my mouth in embarrassment.

He pulled my hand from my mouth and kissed my knuckles “A natural reaction, Sweetheart. Though I do love my name on your lips.” Cassian’s voice sounded strained then he winked at me and made butterflies flutter in my stomach. He rolled his shoulders and pulled away from me, he grabbed ingredients from various places. He laid out his ingredients and pulling a knife from the drawer he began to cut vegetables strategically angling his body to shield what he was doing.

I leaned closer and twisted my body to see what he was doing and there was a burning sensation pulsing on my back and I winced. Cassian’s head turned to me immediately halting chopping to see what was wrong. He took in my posture, “Sit up straight, you won’t put as much strain on your back.” I did as he instructed as he continued his prepping.

“Who taught you how to cook?” I asked kicking my dangling feet lightly. Watching his muscles flex as he used the steel to chop down the vegetables in bite size pieces. His back flexed with the motions, even the most mundane of tasks were fascinating so long as he was

“Rhys’ mother taught all three of us, how to cook. She told us that it was an important skill to have,” He paused and grinned at me, “I miss her.”

I smile, “She sounds lovely.” I said tucking my hands under my bare thighs.

“She was.” He sighed and proceeded, “She would have loved you. His sister too. They would have said that you and Feyre were a breath of fresh air that we needed here.”

“You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.”

I furrowed my brows, “Cassian, Rhys said once I reminded him of someone he knew long ago.” His muscles tensed, “Was he talking about his sister?”

“Cassian smiled, “You have her fighting spirit. You are about as good as listening as she was too.” I laughed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he saw a lot of her in you. I see her in you.”

“Did you love her?” I throat bobbed at the question.

Cassian walked over to me slotting himself in between my legs causing them to spread myself to him, and my breath hitched, my chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. “As one would love a sibling. I never knew what the feeling of love was like, before.” He lifted his hand, his thumb grazing my slightly parted bottom lip.

“And now?” I sighed, as his hand lowered and wrapped around the back of my neck.

He tilted his head, his chest heaving making his tattoos move like entrancing black flames. “Now,” he pulls me closer to his leather and sandalwood scent overwhelming. He angled my head and my eyes fluttered shut. His voice a low whispered, “Now I-“

“Oh, I didn’t know you two came home early.” Mor’s voice filled the kitchen and he pulled away from me. My eyes slowly opened, and disappointment washed over me. Mor greeted us with a jolly grin on her face as Cassian pecked the top of her head and turned to resume chopping. I hopped down from the counter as Mor pulled me into her arms, her grip tight and her nails dug into my back, I whimpered.

“Morrigan!” Cassian roared, causing her to jump away from me as I fought the tears burning. Cassian wings flared in front of me, “For fuck’s sake she’s hurt.” I peaked past Cassian’s wing and saw Mor’s face fall slightly.

Her mouth opened, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

I waved her off and moved to stand next to Cassian, “It’s fine.” I croak out.

“It’s not,” Cassian growled as he turned me and lifted my shirt to check my wounds. “Shit, you’re bleeding again. Damnit Mor.” Cassian leveled her with a lethal glare, causing her to take a step back. “Be more careful.”

I placed my hand over his heart, “She didn’t know, Cass. I’m not really hungry anymore.” He sighed and hoisted me up like I weighed nothing. Then without giving her a glance he took me back to my room and into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and my eyes widened. Bruises kissed my neck from where Xavier’s fingers clamped down. Cassian muttered, “She knew what she was doing.”

He applied salve to my wounds and drew me a bath. Once I was done my night gown was next to my towel along with some clean undergarments. Walking back to my room Cassian was sitting on my bed with two trays of food so we could have a meal together. Then exhaustion waned on me, and I fell into a deep slumber in Cassian’s arms.

Feyre’s POV

Rhys looped my arm around when we finally made it back to the town house, “Do you think Y/N’s okay.” I asked Rhys as we reached her bedroom door.

Rhys shrugged, “Only one way to find out, Feyre Darling.” He opened my sister’s door and he smiled, “Take a look.”

I looked at him with a furrowed brow and my gaze moved into the room to find Y/N wrapped in the General’s arms his wing tucked over her like an extra blanket, his head pressed on top of hers. Her hand splayed out on his bare chest.

If I were painting this moment, I would call it “The General and His Princess.”

Rhys snorted, A perfect title for them.

Get out of my head, you prick.

Make me, Darling. I pushed him out of my mind and put my shields up.

Cassian POV

Four days later

“We have gotten word back from the Summer Court.” Rhys announced while we were all at the breakfast court. I grumbled and continued eating. Y/N wearing a black lightweight sweater and a red bow, pulling her softly curled hair back, giggled and nudged me. I couldn’t help but smile, the bruise was fading around her neck though she hadn’t talked about what happened. She’s been trying to keep a smile on her face, and her smile is contagious. I winked at her, and she blushed. “Y/N, did you want to join Feyre, Amren and I to the Summer Court.” Rhys asked.

“Why isn’t Cassian and Azriel coming with?”

Az was the one to respond to Y/N, “I have business in another court and Cassian has been banned from the summer court.” Her head whipped at me.

I rolled my eyes, “You level one building, and you are suddenly the most dangerous person to the court.” She tilted her head at me, “I’m going to be in Windhaven while, they are in the Summer Court.”

Her eyes lit up, “Could I join you?”

I looked at Rhys, “That’s your territory brother, if you would like to show Y/N, our home in the mountains makes no difference to me.”

I looked back at her, “How do you feel about snow?” She beamed and my heart leapt at the light in her eyes.

Reader’s POV

Feyre and Rhys had already left by the time I was packing up my bag when there was a knock at my door. “Come in.”

Mor stepped in. Leaning against the door, “How are you feeling?”

I smiled at her, “I’m doing alright. Thanks for checking on me.” I paused. “You know I’m not mad, it was an accident.”

Mor sauntered into my room, “Of course.” She smiled but the smile didn’t shake the uneasiness unraveling in my gut. She kissed my forehead, “I am still very sorry.” Her eyes grew distant as she looked at my faded bruise. “You know, I must be honest about something. I’m happy to see Cassian is moving on.”

I tilted my head, “Moving on from what?”

She shrugged, “Cassian did me a favor once, to help me get out of a bad marriage, he took my virginity. It wasn’t easy for either of us to move on.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, “Hold on, why are you telling me this? Also why do I feel like you hate me?”

Mor blinked her eyes widening, “I don’t hate you! I’m just saying its nice that Cassian found a new plaything.” I cringed at her verbiage.

Xavier groped my breast as I was trying to clean, “Xavier,” I warned.

He smacked my ass, “Remember you’re nothing but a toy. My own plaything.” He pinched my perked nipples tightly; I screamed out. “Actually, sounds like you could use a reminder. Strip.” He ordered.

“Yes Sir.” I stripped down and folded my clothes, he grabbed my panties as knelt in front of him He unbuckled and began to stroke himself. “Open.”

I opened my mouth, and he rammed his dick into my mouth. I moaned when it reached the back of my throat. “Hmm good little toy.” He gripped my hair and rutted into my mouth. His pace became erratic and before I knew it, he pulled out of my mouth as cum shot out and landing on my face and my chest. Once he was empty, he lifted my chin, wiped the surrounding mess with his finger and slid it in my mouth. I sucked and when it was clean he removed his finger and kissed me passionately. “I love you, Doll.”

I smiled, “I love you too.”

He kissed the top of my head, “No cleaning your self up until your chores are done. And with that he left, and I began work as usual not bothering putting my uniform back on

Mor waved a hand in my face, “Are you alright?”

I smiled, “Fine. Are you taking us to Windhaven?”

She nodded, “I really am glad Cassian found you, Y/N. Even if its for your short lifespan.” With that she left as the reality of her words sunk into my chest causing it to ache.

Cassian’s POV

Mor skipped her way into the room with a grin on her face, Y/N not far behind with a dimmed contorted look on her face even in her snow gear for the mountains she still looked beautiful. Mor had kept her distance from me after the incident with Y/N’s injuries and began clinging on to Azriel more. I could see him feeling uncomfortable with the touching, but his eyes longed for her. I walked up and grabbed the suitcase Y/N was carrying, “Allow me, Princess,” she nodded and gave me a smile that didn’t make her eyes sparkle like they usually did when she was happy. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

She nodded and Mor held out her hands. We both grabbed her hands and then we were greeted with the cold bite of the mountains. “Rhys will come get you guys when they return from the Summer court.” She waved and the next moment she was gone.

I nudged Y/N who had watched Mor leave and she looked at me, her nose beginning to turn pink. “Follow me, Princess.”

I guided her to the Cabin and let her step in. Dropping the bags and shutting the door. I watched as she stared at the modest cabin in wonder. “What’s going on with you?” I ask breaking her out of her reverie.”

She crossed her arms, something she does when she is ready to get on the defensive. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’ve been avoiding my gaze. Your smile has dimmed since breakfast.” I stepped closer to her, “Talk to me.”

Y/N sighed, “You and Mor slept together.” Son. Of. A Bitch.

I nodded, “We did. It was a one-time thing that I have no interest repeating.” She nodded her head, her expression lightened slightly. She moved from her arms to wringing her hands, “Did she say something?”

“Just that it was nice that you were finally over her and” she looked at the floor, “Had a new plaything.” She cringed as she said the word. Her eyes went distant as if a memory was trying to consume her and she was fighting it. Come back to me, Sweetheart I thought to myself and her eyes met mine.

Blood boiled in me as I knelt in front of Y/N and cupped this beautiful woman’s face in my hands. “I have no interest in Mor. I never have. I don’t have a ‘Plaything.’ I swear she is becoming more like her father with the terms she uses. You aren’t a toy, Princess, not a plaything you are a beautiful, kind woman anyone who makes you feel less, can come see me,” Her eyes lightened and she smiled, “I don’t know what made Mor believe she was the most knowledgeable in my love life and I’m sorry she said something to you that was so crass. But if you want to know the full story, I’ll happily tell you.

“How bout while we unpack for our stay.” She offered tugging at my wrist to get up. I rose to my feet and chuckled at how she had to look up. “It’s annoying how tall you are, General.”

I chuckled and grabbed our bags, and as we unpacked, I told her the story of how Mor was engaged to Eris and she didn’t want to be tied to him and be in a loveless marriage. How she was left out on the border of the Autumn court to die and how Eris found her but did nothing to help. When it was done it we both agreed that it would stay in the past and there was no future. She simply nodded along and then said she was going to get comfortable, kissed my cheek and shut the door I pressed my hand to my cheek and went to finish up my own unpacking.

***

I made us dinner and we ate in a comfortable silence We sat on the couch lounging in front of the fireplace Y/N sat on the opposite end of the couch the tea I made her in hand as she had her knees to her chest. The socks she was wearing stopped right at her thigh and her gray oversized sweater, that drooped over her should, rose revealing. Her hair was in a simple plait over her should and with the soft glow of the fireplace she looked serene and peaceful, especially with the content smile on her face.

What I wouldn't have done to wrap my hand around that braid and tug it to expose her neck to me. To have her lips on mine, to have her in my bed with nothing but those damned socks. She turned her head, catching me staring and her smile broadened. I gave her a smile in return and looked back at the fire, willing myself to calm down I tapped my fingers on my thigh.

I can feel her staring now, her eyes racking over me, "So," she starts causing me to look back at her and I realized she put her tea down and was on her knees on the couch and I internally groaned, she's going to be the death of me. She tilts her head, "What do you have planned for us in general?"

I turned to face her, "I'll show you the camps, and the town of Windhaven if you'd like and I'll have to do some work while i'm here but then we have the day to do whatever."

Y/N bit her lip and her eyes widened as I took my thumb and pulled her lip from her teeth. Her heartbeat quickens and I notice the rise and fall of her full chest. I remove my hand and place both of them on her hips and yank her to me. She shrieked and instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck. Her scent washes over me and something tugs at my chest at her Jasmine, Vanilla, and lilac scent. I began massaging her thigh and she buried her head in my neck, "Flying" she said and if I didn't know better it came out as a moan against my pulse. I move my hands lower to her calves and she does let out a moan as I work through the knots there. "I want go on a flight with you. For fun."

I smiled, "Consider it done, Princess."

She pulled her legs and straddled me, placing her hands on my chest. My hands hovered over her hips, “Cassian,” she breathed her chest heaving, “There is something else I want.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, “What would that be?” She pressed her lips in a tight line as she pushed my hair behind my ears, my wings twitched in response to the gesture. Her eyes were blown out; her hand moved from ear to cheek, her eyes focused on my lips. She slowly leaned in and paused. I gripped her hips, “Come here, Princess.” I yanked her closer, and her lips molded into mine as I held her close, and my brain kept repeating the same word.

Mine. Mine. Mine. She’s Mine.

To be continued..

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff @misskennygirl @whitewolfsbitch @highladyivy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @packsvlog @heyyhelloohii @parabatai-winchester @julesofvolterra @lilah-asteria

If you see your user but didn't get a notification Tumblr won't let me tag you :(

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fluff #cassian angst

365 notes · View notes