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awearywritersworld · 4 months

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the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

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taexual · 7 months

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sleepwalking ● 9 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mutual pining, angst, SLOOOWW BUURNNN

words: 9.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 9 ► the silence is one thing that i’ll remember you said. well, it’s better than nothing when nothing’s all that you left

The next morning was warm.

It was such a stark contrast to last night that you couldn’t help but still feel phantom shivers on your skin when you got off the bus to stretch your legs. It was still two more hours to Oslo, and it was unreasonably early to be awake, considering you did not return to the bus until sunrise—a mere half an hour before the scheduled departure for Norway.

Everyone else was still asleep, which made sense: they must have returned to the bus sometime very late, too. Granted, when you and Jungkook reached the restaurant on Strandvägen yesterday, your team was no longer there—but that didn’t mean they went to sleep as soon as they returned.

To be fair, you hadn’t expected to find them at the restaurant anyway. But after the abrupt end of your conversation with Jungkook on the bridge, you had hoped for a distraction. Something to take your mind off the uncomfortable gaping hole inside you.

Jungkook had suggested last night that you take a taxi back to the tour bus, and you were almost ready to walk back on your own.

It confused you—this unexpected longing for something you dared not name—but it also frightened you. Therefore, you were glad that when the bus reached Oslo, Jungkook was still asleep.

You felt like you needed a minute—to convince yourself that whatever you thought you’d felt in the air last night was more wishful thinking than anything else. Because here’s the thing about wishful thinking: it was yours. And everything that was yours, you could extinguish. You could put it out like you’d done countless times before.

So, several hours later in Oslo, you gave Yoongi very strict instructions to keep the band close and make sure they rested before tomorrow’s performance. And then you took your girls to explore the city, sightsee and drink as much coffee as you could find.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, sightseeing was something he also wanted to do with you once you arrived in Oslo. He had a lot to tell you; he knew he owed you an explanation. He just wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened, let alone what hadn’t happened.

But when he woke up on the bus, you had already left, taking Maggie and Luna with you. So, not only did he have to wallow in his thoughts, but he also had to deal with a sulking Taehyung, who never openly admitted why he was sulking, but it was obvious enough. Even though he texted Luna all day, she wasn’t physically there with him, and that wasn’t enough.

Jungkook was annoyed. He should have seen this coming—he tended to sleep in while you tended to not—but he realised he had expected you to stay. He’d expected a reaction. Perhaps he’d hoped you would demand that he explained himself and why the two of you had gone from I-miss-you to let’s-walk-and-not-look-at-each-other.

Your reaction, however, was no reaction at all.

You and the girls went out, which for the three of you, meant getting ice cream and walking the city streets until you found something interesting. Sometimes this took up the whole day. You loved it—especially today.

But then, just as you were approaching what looked like a castle with crowds of tourists flocking to it—Luna discovered it was the Royal Palace, which should have been obvious, but you and Maggie still ooh-ed and ahh-ed at Luna’s Google Maps skills—your phone started to ring.

Licking your ice cream hurriedly so it wouldn’t melt completely while you talked, you walked away from the girls to take the call.

You were half-expecting an emergency, but before you could really be disappointed that you had to end your excursion, you noticed the unknown number on the screen of your phone. You briefly considered not answering, but you saw that the number had an area code from home.

You thought it might be your brother calling. Once again, you considered not answering, still angry at him for his recklessness and your mum’s tears. But responsibility won over, and you picked up.

On the other end of the line was a man asking for you. For a moment, you were confused, because the voice sounded familiar, but the owner of it didn’t seem to know who he was talking to.

“This is she,” you responded to your own name. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Oh, you sound so different for some reaso—it’s Nick,” the man said, and you stopped chewing on the waffle cone of your ice cream in surprise.

Nick Zhou had been your supervisor after you graduated and started to work at the company where you now managed Rated Riot. Back then, you were just an intern before being promoted to assistant manager for an indie rock band with the ominous name The Jungle Will Get You, when you were only 23 years old. Nick was their manager then, and he never admitted it, but you knew he’d pulled some strings to get you that job.

A little over a year later, you took over the management of Rated Riot, and you haven’t spoken to Nick since. He went on to manage Reconnaissance, one of the biggest alternative rock bands in the country, if not the world. Just being their manager made Nick more popular than Rated Riot at the moment.

You thought things had worked out well for you both, so there was simply no reason for you to stay in touch.

You figured the reason he was calling you now had to mean good things for Rated Riot. Supporting Reconnaissance on tour? Perhaps a collaboration?

“Nick!” was the first word out of your mouth after the surprise had subsided. “So nice to hear from you again.”

“I heard you were in Europe? That’s huge!” he said, which was kind of him, because Reconnaissance were selling out stadiums.

“We are, yeah. Oslo right now,” you said, smiling at Maggie, who approached you and tugged on your arm like a toddler wanting to go on a ride at an amusement park. Except in this case, the ‘ride’ was a wine bar down the street from the palace. You nodded, and that was permission enough for her to jog over to Luna and drag the two of you towards the bar, never mind that it was 3 PM. You said into the phone, “how are you? You’re going to Australia soon, right?”

“Next week, yeah,” Nick said. “The new album’s coming shortly after that.”

“Ah, another tour,” you said with a teasing chuckle—you knew how much Nick hated flying. Even the Reconnaissance members talked about their ‘air-sick manager’ in almost every interview they did. “Good luck in advance!”

Nick chortled in irony. “Thanks, I’m going to need it. That’s actually, uh, the reason I’m calling.”

Your heart rate picked up as the ice cream melted in your hand. “Yeah?”

“Yes. See, we had some—er, situations,” he paused here as if searching for a better word. After he didn’t find one, he continued with the one he had picked, “and because of these situations, I’m putting together a new team. With the new album coming out soon, we’re on a really tight schedule.”

“Right,” you said. You could already hear him asking if Rated Riot would like to be the supporting act, and maybe even participate in Reconnaissance’s new album.

“Well, that’s why I’m calling you,” he said. “The management here is just me and this guy, Mark, who can’t dial a phone number to save his life, but he’s a great sport. Keeps the band alive. But I need more people. Preferably someone with, uh, experience.”

He paused meaningfully, but it still took you a minute to realise that he hadn’t contacted you about Rated Riot. He had contacted you about you.

You watched Maggie and Luna enter the wine bar, take your ice cream from you, and make a beeline for the cash register, all while you stood in the doorway.

“I’m—uh—Nick.” There was an uncomfortable lump of surprise in your throat. Your hands felt sticky and your mouth felt dry. “I’m—I manage Rated Riot.”

“I know,” he said, “and they’re a very promising band, tons of potential,” he paused here, hesitating, “but I thought—well, this is sort of different, isn’t it?”

You would have scoffed if you weren’t so stunned. “Well, of course.”

“Yeah. So, I just—we need an assistant manager. Fast,” Nick said. “And you were the first person I thought of. I mean, we’ve worked together before. I know your strengths and I admire your work ethic. I think you’d be a great addition to our team.”

Overwhelmed, you barely managed to find your words. “I… appreciate the offer. But I don’t think I can just—”

“Think about it, okay?” he interrupted you, aware of the abruptness and sheer mass of this offer. “We’ll be back from Australia next month, so you don’t need to give me an answer right away. Just—the sooner the better, of course. But you can think about it. I just wanted to let you know that I have an opening, and I’d love it if you joined us.”

“I—okay.” The faint smell of grapes and old wood around the wine bar seemed to grow stronger the longer that you stood here, still frozen. “Thank you, Nick.”

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he said. “Take care, yeah?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, you too. Thanks again.”

The three beeps after he ended the call reverberated in your head, and it was another half-minute before you moved the phone from your ear. You looked at it in disbelief, as if it had been someone else who’d just had this conversation, and you had merely overheard it.

In an attempt to ground yourself, you tried to simplify your loud thoughts into whispers of an adequate noise.

There was an opening to be Reconnaissance’s assistant manager.

You’d have to take a step back, do more mundane tasks, similar to the ones you did back when you were Nick’s assistant that first time. But if you said yes, you’d be working with one of the biggest bands in the world right now.

But you couldn’t leave Rated Riot. You were their manager. You believed in them, and you loved everyone on this team.

“You look like you just found out Santa isn’t real,” Maggie’s voice brought you back to the present. She had come to get you, so you’d stop blocking the entrance for others. “Who was that?”

You still felt very hot and half-choked, so you tried to loosen the collar of your white tank top. The denim jacket you wore over it didn’t help much with the heat inside of you, either.

“Um,” you looked around as you slipped out of your jacket. “Can we get some wine first?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

You nodded, and before you could give a verbal response, Maggie was already calling out to your friend, who was about to place her order, “Luna! Grab some doubles! We have something going on.”

It took the girls about two minutes to find a table—granted, a couple of tourists who saw Maggie dragging you through the wine bar while you were trying to regain proper consciousness got scared and left, which helped a lot—and settle down.

As soon as you took the first sip, catching the rich and savoury taste—perhaps a bit too savoury; it immediately made you scrunch your nose—Luna scooted closer to you on the navy-coloured velvet couch.

“What happened?” she asked. “Who was that on the phone?”

You set your glass down. “That was Nick. My former supervisor. Before I started to work with Rated Riot. He, um—he manages Reconnaissance.”

“Oh, shit!” Maggie exclaimed at the same time as Luna muttered, “I don’t really know them.”

“Oh!” Maggie gasped, turning to Luna. “Wait. Weren’t you at their show a few days ago? I saw on your Instagram.”

“Yeah, Taehyung took me. He brought me to the after-party, too, but—” she paused as she noticed that Maggie’s eyes looked ready to pop out. She explained, “oh, that was just to babysit Jungkook. He’s the one who really listens to Reconnaissance. I don’t know any of their songs. They sounded good, but I’m—”

“Oh my God!” Maggie gasped again. She had glitter in her eyes and all over her face. “Wait until we get back on the bus! I probably have five different notebooks full of their song lyrics. You’ll love them.”

Luna nodded her head once, then paused in the middle of the second nod. “Wait, you brought those notebooks on tour? Aren’t they heavy?”

“Kind of. But I like to have them with me. And I keep adding to them, so—” Maggie stopped when you picked up your glass again. Your movement seemed to remind her what the topic was before she digressed. She leaned back in her bright yellow armchair. “—which is not the point. So, what did that guy want? Nick.”

Both girls turned their attention back to you.

You took another sip of your wine and said, “well, I thought he wanted Rated Riot.”

Swirling her glass, Luna asked, “he didn’t?”

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “Apparently, he wants me.”

Luna was the first to understand the implication as her eyebrows lifted and her chin dropped. Maggie, on the other hand, looked at Luna, and then back at you.

“Like… to work with him?” she asked. “To manage Reconnaissance?”

“Well, obviously not to perform with them on stage,” Luna said to her impatiently, then turned back to you. “Why does he want you?”

“He said he needed to find an assistant manager quickly,” you explained, “and since he knows me, he thought I’d be... suitable. For that job.”

You didn’t know what words to choose so you wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable talking about this. And, as you sat here with your friends and your glass of wine, you realised that a part of you didn’t believe you were even ready to work with someone like Reconnaissance. For the most part, you were terrified of it.

You hoped Rated Riot would reach their level one day, that’s true. But starting to work with a band that was already so outrageously popular felt a bit like being thrown into a pot of boiling water.

“Well, what did you say?” Maggie asked.

“I said no,” you replied, your vision blurring again. “I think.”

The two girls spoke up at the same time.

Luna repeated, “you think?” while Maggie asked, “why not?”

They exchanged a look – Maggie, surprised; Luna, slightly accusing.

“What?” Maggie said in response to her look. “This is big!” She put down her glass and leaned over to touch your knee, wanting to emphasise her point, “I love you, okay? And I love working with you and everyone else here, and I know you do, too. But this is just… huge.”

“I know,” you said, your gaze still wandering along the tiled wall behind Maggie’s armchair. You felt disoriented and the wine had very little to do with it. “But I—I mean, I can’t just leave.”

“I think you should talk to the guys,” Luna suggested. She managed to come to terms with the heaviness of the offer that Nick had made much faster than you did. It helped, of course, that she wasn’t the one who had to make a decision here, but she was making a reasonable point regardless.

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed, pointing at the girl on the couch next to you, and nodding eagerly at you. “Yeah. You should.”

You looked at both of them, then down at your glass, as if you could take a sip and it’d give you very clear directions of what to do next.

“But what can I say to them?” you asked. Then, in a voice meaning to imitate yourself, you said, “‘I might have an opportunity to leave you and work with a much bigger band.’ No. No, I don’t think so.”

Maggie squinted at you, unsure if she was the only one confused again. She asked carefully, “you… don’t think you’ll tell them this? Or you don’t think you’ll work with Reconnaissance?”

You finished your wine and set the glass back on the tray. The other girls’ glasses were still half-full.

“Neither, probably,” you replied. “I’d be—you know. If I went to work with Nick, I’d be fetching coffee for the other staff members and filling out paperwork. I already do that for Rated Riot anyway, but I don’t mind, because I don’t think we’re at a level where I’d need an assistant. But I—I want to reach that level with them. I want to be here every step of the way.”

If you’d lifted your eyes from the table in front of you, you would have seen the soft smile on Luna’s face. Instead, you heard it in her voice when she said, “that makes sense.”

Finally, you looked at her. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, I think you should sleep on it,” Maggie said, a different voice of reason. “Make sure this isn’t something you’ll regret later. Oh!” she clapped her hands. “You can even make a pros and cons list!”

You smiled while Luna snickered. She said to you, “pro: obviously, you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend—”

“Um?” Maggie cut in. “Con: you wouldn’t be managing your ex-boyfriend.”

Luna frowned at her. “How is that a con?”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Have you seen her ex-boyfriend?”

Luna’s frown dissipated as she laughed, and even you chuckled, too.

In her whole life, Maggie might have had one and a half doubts about not actually being gay; she was simply an artist to the core. And she was very vocal about how unbelievably easy it was to photograph Jungkook when he was on stage. He was, in a truly annoying way, effortlessly photogenic.

“I guess that’s a pro and a con,” you said. There was a lingering smile on your face—this time, the wine did have something to do with it.

When paired with the sudden anxiety of Nick’s offer, the wine helped you distance yourself from the last conversation you’d had with Jungkook. And maybe it was better, you decided, that your friends didn’t know about the walk you two had taken. You preferred the conversation as it was now — cosy, safe, and almost buoyant.

“Is there a time limit?” Luna asked suddenly. “Did Nick tell you a date?”

“No,” you said with a sigh. “He said he wanted an answer soon. So I don’t have to decide right this second. But I’m not really considering it, to be honest. It’s a great opportunity, sure, but I think working with Rated Riot is a great opportunity, too.”

Both girls nodded in unison, their expressions brightening. Slowly, as you felt the support in their warm gazes, the atmosphere in the wine bar began to lighten, too. They understood. And they agreed with your point.

Luna teased, “does the band pay you extra when you say nice things about them? Because I really love Rated Riot.”

You chuckled. “I wish they did.”

Maggie lifted her glass. “Be careful. If you start complimenting them to their faces, it’ll go straight to their heads. And then we’ll have to give their shows an R rating.”

“Well, that would help them live up to their name,” Luna pointed out and the three of you burst into a fit of giggles again—partially because of the wine, but in your case also because of relief.

Nick’s offer and the confusing feelings from last night did not seem all that troublesome at the moment. You could almost forget about them, focusing only on the way things were right now.

You were happy like this. You didn’t want anything to change.

As dusk fell, Jungkook began to hover his finger over your name in his contact list. Just then, Sid burst into the otherwise empty bus and slammed the door with so much force that the whole vehicle swayed a little.

Startled, Jungkook looked up.

“Dude!” he called out, poking his head out of his bunk to see his friend’s proud face. “Gentle.”

“I have the best plans for us tonight,” Sid said as if he hadn’t heard him. “You will not believe the kind of bars they have here in Norway.”

Although Jungkook doubted that the bars here were any different from the ones back home, he still climbed out of the bunk, more intrigued by the idea of having company than by the supposed uniqueness of Norwegian bars. “Yeah?”

Sid’s smile grew wider still when he saw the same reaction mirrored on Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Let’s go.”

Jungkook hesitated. He had told you last night that things wouldn’t be the same between him and Sid when they returned home. And he meant it; he would have preferred to spend time with you—right now and back home. But you weren’t here, and while he was waiting for you, everyone else made different plans. Even Taehyung. And Jungkook hated being alone.

Grabbing his jacket, he climbed out of the bunk and allowed Sid to lead him outside, where the rest of their friends were already waiting.

They were like a herd of sheep, Jungkook thought unexpectedly while Sid ushered him out of the bus, the way they followed Sid. Why didn’t they ever protest or suggest their own ideas?

But as he looked at his friends – Jude and Minjun fighting over something on Jude’s phone, shoving the device in each other’s faces and shouting; Sid smacking them both on the backs of their heads, providing his own wisdom to their argument – he knew.

They stayed quiet, because the four of them were always together in the same way: with Sid in the lead, and the others following behind him. That’s the way it has always been. Jungkook knew that if one of them had a genuine problem with this, he would not be taken seriously. Or it would be the last time he could call them friends.

It was either this, or nothing at all.

That night, the four of them ended up in a cocktail bar in Oslo, a significant distance away from the tour bus and the rest of the crew. Jungkook didn’t understand why Sid had chosen this particular place until his friend winked and gestured towards the stairs leading to the basement.

“What’s down there?” Jungkook was dumb enough to ask.

Grateful for the chance to show off, Sid grinned and draped an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders as he led him—along with Jude and Minjun, who were looking around like this was a zoo—to the basement.

“Only the greatest thing to come out of Europe,” Sid explained. “You can thank me later.”

He didn’t.

It was an underground burlesque club with only three dancers, all of whom appeared so intimidating that Jungkook was convinced they could stab the four of them with their nails alone, if any of the boys looked them in the eye for too long. He didn’t dare to try.

Sid loved it.

Jungkook preferred the bar upstairs.

Minjun seemed to agree, so the two went back up for another round, while Jude stayed back. Despite occasionally acting like he hated Sid’s guts, Jude always stayed close to him, almost like an addict, who knew that this drug was bad for him, but still couldn’t break the habit.

“Do you think they’ll make it out alive?” Minjun asked as they waited for their drinks at the bar.

“I don’t think they’re getting out at all,” Jungkook replied. “It’s like siren screams for Sid.”

“That’s true. And if Sid stays, Jude stays.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression grim.

“So, D-11,” Minjun said. It took Jungkook a second to realise that he was counting down the days to the end of the bet. “How’s it going?”

He gave his friend a look. “I’m in a bar with you. How do you think it’s going?”

Minjun smiled and nodded to the bartender to thank him for bringing the drinks. Then he held his glass out to Jungkook.

“A toast,” he declared. Jungkook rolled his eyes and picked up his own glass. “May you win this bet, because Sid on a motorcycle is a menace I want nothing to do with.”

Snorting, Jungkook clinked his glass against his and they both downed their drinks in several big gulps.

“He’s not getting the bike,” Jungkook said, setting his glass down with new-found determination. Hearing Minjun mention the possibility of Sid winning the Katana made it feel more realistic. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Do you need my help?” Minjun asked as if reading his mind.

Jungkook looked up from the bar top. “You couldn’t help even if I asked. We signed an agreement that we wouldn’t tell her.”

“You and Sid signed it,” Minjun pointed out. “I was just the person who typed it all out in my fucking Notes. I’m not legally bound to abide by the conditions of the deal. And, actually, neither are you. It’s just a—”

“Why would you help me?” Jungkook interrupted. His friend’s final sentences had evidently flown over his head. “I’ve hardly got anything to offer you in return.”

Minjun shrugged. “I just don’t want Sid to win.”

Jungkook swallowed. He found himself hoping, suddenly, that there was more to this. That if he really kicked Sid off the tour and out of his life, there would at least be one person who wouldn’t leave with him. One person who would stay.

“I don’t know what you could do,” Jungkook said. “Putting in a good word for me probably wouldn’t do much.”

“No?” his friend said, then looked down at his glass thoughtfully. “Okay. We can go full mentalist on her.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dropping certain objects in her living space that leave imprints of you in her subconscious,” Minjun said completely seriously. “It’s simple.”

“Dude.” Jungkook blinked. “I don’t know where this—this Sherlockian shit is coming from, but I’m not going to mess with her head.”

Minjun was about to scoff, but held back because the offence on Jungkook’s face at the—apparently, preposterous—suggestion seemed genuine. As if Minjun didn’t know what he was saying. As if this was serious, and Jungkook didn’t want to ruin it by playing games.

Minjun pointed out, “but you already are messing with her head.”

If possible, Jungkook looked even more appalled. “I’m—that’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what’s the difference between what you’re doing and what I’m suggesting?”

“Well, I’m not trying to—I’m not sneaking around and forcing her to think about me,” Jungkook said, looking away from his friend and meeting the bartender’s gaze. He nodded, and the man behind the bar approached the two friends with a bottle of whiskey.

“It’s not force, technically,” Minjun explained as they watched the bartender refill their drinks. “It’s just how your brain works. You see something that reminds you of someone, and it sticks with you whether you’re aware of it or not.”

“I’d like for that to happen naturally,” Jungkook said, aware that he was the naïve one here. But he liked to think of it as hope. And he had that right—he was the only one who really knew you. The only one who could guess whether you were thinking about him or not.

Minjun shrugged and picked up his glass as soon as it was filled. “It’s your call. I’m just trying to speed up the process.”

Jungkook brought his own drink to his lips, but paused when Minjun spoke up again.

“Let me ask you something, though,” he said. “Before you get too far ahead of yourself.”

Even before he heard the question, Jungkook already felt queasy. “What is it?”

“Do you genuinely want to get back together with her?” Minjun asked.

There seemed to be no ill intentions behind the question, but Jungkook spent a full minute watching him and reading his expression.

Minjun was quick to notice his uncertainty. He reassured, “I’m asking because I care. Not because I want to make fun of you. I know you love her, but this—well, I’m just wondering if you want to act on these feelings.”

Jungkook looked down again. “Yeah, uh, I do. It’s not just about the bet for me.”

Minjun had suspected as much, so he wanted to broach the subject when no one else was around.

“But you still think making a bet out of it is the way to go?” he inquired.

Jungkook knew where this was going. And he still tried to appear nonchalant.

“I mean, I’m in this mess anyway, so why not actually win this?” he replied with a laid-back shrug that was so laid-back, it only amplified the fact that it was not laid-back at all.

“Jungkook,” Minjun said, startling him. Normally, the four of them addressed each other as ‘dude’ or the occasional ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’. Hearing his name felt strange, almost foreboding.

“There’s so many reasons why not,” Minjun continued. “The most important one being that you come out of this as a winner twice. You get her and you get the bike. But all she gets is the realisation that someone she’s letting back into her life has lied to her.”

Defensively, Jungkook demanded, “when did I lie?”

“You’re getting back together with her because of the bet!”

“It’s not because of—it’s not just because of the bet. I just told you.”

“But she doesn’t know about it,” Minjun countered, poking holes in Jungkook’s feeble defensive shield. It was more like a flimsy piece of paper than a shield, really; just something he’d hoped to fool himself—and you—into believing. “She doesn’t know what else is at stake. It’s not fair.”

“Okay,” Jungkook turned in his seat to face Minjun, leaning his elbow against the bar top. “What are you trying to tell me? That I should lose the bet on purpose? To show her that I care about her more than anything else?”

“No,” Minjun replied, less confident. Jungkook was likely not aware of this, but he could be very intimidating. For Minjun, who considered himself immune to most forms of intimidation after years of being friends with Sid, this was unusual and unsettling. “I’m not telling you anything. I’m just suggesting you think about it. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”

Jungkook swallowed, his throat dry.

He knew that he had already drawn a subconscious line between simply wanting you back and wanting you back to win the bet. He worried about the exact thing that Minjun had just mentioned—that he couldn’t have both. He worried that it wouldn’t be fair to be with you again if he won.

This was what stopped him on the bridge. It’s what haunted his mind every time he thought about talking to you.

Deep down, he knew he would have to make a choice: either he won the bet, or he got back together with you.

And yet, he couldn’t let Sid win. The thought pressed on his mind with so much weight that he knew it wasn’t just you that he didn’t want to lose, and it definitely wasn’t just his bike. It was a matter of pride, too.

He was proving a point for all the years that Sid had asserted his superiority over him.

“You know, that never made any sense to me,” Jungkook said. Alcohol helped him feel more confident and less self-conscious. Maybe he should stay tipsy until the end of the bet. “That’s the whole point of the cake. You get it, and it’s not just there to fucking look at. It’s there to be eaten.”

Minjun could tell Jungkook felt defensive, so he didn’t take the aggression personally. Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

“Whatever, man,” he said. “It’s your life, in the end.”

“Yeah. It is,” Jungkook replied so firmly that it just sounded childish. He tried to soften his tone, “I appreciate yo—your concern, but I got this.”

“Okay,” his friend agreed because that was easier. They could have been at it for hours—and God knows, Jungkook and Sid had been at it for hours—but Minjun didn’t think it was worth it. He concluded, “that’s fine.”

“It is,” Jungkook agreed.

But it was clear that it wasn’t fine. Jungkook looked flushed as if he’d bathed in a barrel of whiskey, not merely drank two glasses of it.

After about half an hour, the silence became heavy. At first, Minjun had thought that he would rather throw himself down the stairs than return to the basement where Sid and Jude were. But now that seemed like a better alternative than sitting here with a sulking Jungkook.

“You know, uh, I think I’m going to go check on Sid and Jude,” he said while Jungkook ordered another—his fifth—glass. “Don’t want them to die in Oslo. Too big of a hassle to bring their bodies back home.”

Jungkook’s lip did not even twitch. But he nodded and Minjun slid off his chair. He glanced back at his friend as he went, not wanting to leave him alone, but also feeling like Jungkook was already alone anyway, even with him here.

Jungkook had always been good at isolating himself, even when surrounded by other people. Honestly, Minjun wasn’t sure if Jungkook even realised that he wasn’t sitting at the bar alone. He told Minjun once that he couldn’t stand silence, but Minjun knew that sometimes, Jungkook’s thoughts overwhelmed him without his consent. And once he got lost in his own mind, the rest of the world ceased to exist for him.

However, now that he was truly alone, Jungkook was struck by the heavy weight of his solitude. He would have agreed with Minjun – he really did have a monumental talent for disassociating anywhere, anytime. But to be able to drift off into his thoughts and turn the crowd into a blur, he needed a crowd in the first place.

Now that he was alone, all he could think about was that he was alone.

He certainly wasn’t going to follow his friends into the basement, so he got a few more drinks into his system for courage, and pulled his phone out—a painful reflex—to dial your number.

Needless to say, by the time you answered—it was 1 AM, but, of course, you answered—he was already slurring his words as he tried to explain why he’d called.

“Are you drunk?” was your first question as soon as you heard him try to introduce himself—pointlessly so, because at that point in your life, he was the only person who called you after midnight.

“Of course,” he said, with hints of offence in his voice. Why would he not be drunk? he rationalised. “Do you want to come?”

He heard shuffling on the other end as he played with the napkin on the bar top. Funnily enough, despite his mind feeling pleasantly numb, he still felt twinges of anxiety in his stomach.

“Where even are you?” you finally asked. He was too drunk to notice the coldness in your voice.

“Sid took us to some bar,” he replied. “In Oslo.”

While you were relieved that Sid hadn’t driven them out of Norway before Jungkook even performed here, you also felt concerned that Jungkook was so disoriented that he needed to remind you of the city you were in.

“Are the rest of the guys there?” you asked. His friends were useless, of course, but perhaps Minjun could be trusted to take care of Jungkook if he blacked out.

“They’re downstairs,” he answered. “There’s some club. I didn’t want to go, so I called you. Do you want to come?”

You were confused by the repeated question—was this a matter of you wanting to come, or were you obligated to come as his manager?

He sensed your apprehension through the phone despite being intoxicated.

“I’m trying to see you,” he explained, his tongue struggling to bend the right way. All his Rs sounded like sloppy Ls and Ws. “You weren’t there when I looked for you earlier today.” You heard a bang – he’d slammed his palm against the bar top, forcing the nearby glasses to rattle – and he continued, whining now, “why are you so difficult for me to find?!”

“You’re drunk,” you stated in response. “And you’re not making any sense. Can you find your way to the bus, or do I have to pick you up?”

Half-mumbling, half-whining something incoherent, Jungkook leaned his arms on the bar top. He rested his head on them and pressed his phone against his ear harder as if that’d make you understand him better, make you enter his head somehow.

“You should come,” he said. “I’ll order for you.”

“How about you tell me exactly where you are first,” you replied.

He did – to the best of his ability in his current state – but Google Maps could hardly help you find the directions for “then we took two left turns and came up in front of his huge red brick building, might have been brown, I’m really drunk.” Finally, you managed to get him to just send you his pinned location and headed over there.

He stayed on his phone after you hung up, opening the Notes app and scrolling through his older notes to pass the time.

Some of them were lists of things he wanted to remember – films to see, songs to listen to – while others were harder to decipher: drunken reminders he had made for himself and forgotten as soon as he sobered up.

Some of the notes were song lyrics, and some were just your name—he’d begun to type out a message? a letter? and abandoned it, scared of the weight your name alone carried—and his finger lingered on those for a minute before he pressed the New Note button and began typing immediately.

Normally, he didn’t write lyrics when he was drunk. Tipsy, maybe—one of Rated Riot’s most popular singles was born after he and Yoongi tried absinthe for the first time at one of the label’s parties last year—but never so drunk that the room felt wobbly.

He kept pressing the wrong buttons on the keyboard and autocorrect kept making it worse; shocking even his drunk mind with how completely wrong the corrections were.

But he managed to get two full lines – I fucking miss you when I drink / You burn my throat when I sing – and he stared at them for a minute, a deep frown on his face.

He hated it. Deleting the words with angry force on the backspace button, he began typing again, feeling furiously alone with every passing minute that you didn’t come—and knowing that when you did come, you would be you. And he couldn’t love you the way he did.

For years, even when he thought—hoped—that the feelings he had for you were not real, even as he insisted to his friends that he couldn’t possibly still love you, even as he tried to meet someone new despite only seeing faint echoes of your absence on every face, even then he wrote about you each time that his mind wandered.

You continued to be the subject of his music, the lyrical lover in every song he wrote.

Now, as he entered line after line, the lyrics writing themselves as he watched the screen, he could feel his heart thumping in his chest—as drunk as his mind was.

When the absence of you is all that inspires / I allow for the pain to turn into fires / It will burn when I write, when I think, when I sing / Flames will turn to ashes, turn to words, turn to ink

He held his phone with one hand as he folded and unfolded a napkin with the other one, reading the words and then re-reading them again.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He needed Namjoon to take a look at this—the producer knew better—before he could show it to anyone else. Especially before he sent it to—

Jungkook jumped up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and his vision seemed to brighten when he recognised you.

“I came as quickly as I could,” you said, out of breath as if you had run all the way here. You took a seat on the stool next to him at the bar, using his shoulder to steady yourself as you climbed onto it. “Where’s your tail?”

Even drunk, he understood you meant his friends.

“Downstairs,” he said, nodding his head towards the door leading to the staircase in the back. “Drinks?”

You assessed him. He didn’t appear to be in need of having his stomach pumped, but he was slouched over the bar, tightly clutching his phone in his hand, which was a good indicator that the night should have ended there.

“I think it’d be better to—”

“Strawberry daiquiri,” he said loudly—to the bartender, but it took you a second to realise that—then he turned to you for confirmation. “Right?”

“I’m not drinking,” you replied firmly enough for him to give you a long look.

“Why not?” he asked. The bartender politely waited for your consent before he started to make the cocktail. “You’re not driving.”

You swallowed. There were many – countless, really – reasons why not. You were confused about yesterday, confused about Nick’s offer, confused about what you were doing here tonight.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even, and very out of character for someone like you. You knew you shouldn’t dive head first into this, not after what happened—what didn’t happen—yesterday.

But you gave the bartender a light nod.

“One drink,” you said. “And we’re going back.”

But, of course, going back is not at all what you did.

Jungkook, his highball, your daiquiri, and you all found yourselves on the empty terrace on the roof not ten minutes later.

It was a relatively warm night, but it was the empty space, the dark night and the faint scent of rain that captivated you more than the warmth. It was so beautiful here; very hard not to be grateful to be alive on a night like this. And you realised you didn’t blame Jungkook for making you come here, after all.

“What were you doing before I came?” you spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the night.

Jungkook took a sip from his glass and placed it on the small round table between your patio chairs.

“Writing,” he said.

You were surprised. “Writing?”

“Yeah.”

“As in, song lyrics?”

“Yeah,” he repeated. Then—his mind travelling a thousand miles per hour—he added, “you know, I wrote “Haunting” about you.”

Weirdly enough, while alcohol made most people sleepy or, at least slower, it seemed to ignite Jungkook’s mind instead. He wanted to see your reaction when he said this. Wanted, even drunk, to see if there was a reason for him to worry.

Meanwhile, you needed a moment to process what he’d just said and, even then, you weren’t entirely sure if you understood him.

“I—you did?” you stumbled, awkward.

“Yes.”

You looked away, the song fresh in your mind, because it wasn’t just the first Rated Riot song that you’d heard. It was also one of your favourites. You loved the ethereal melody—a strong focus on piano, the guitars reduced to the background and the bass only joining in on the chorus—and Jungkook’s raw vocals as he sang about resisting his dark urges.

You knew all of Rated Riot’s lyrics—hearing their songs every night paid off, but you’d have been lying if you said you didn’t like to listen to them in your free time as well—but it was the first verse and, particularly, the breathy, pained voice with which Jungkook sang it that always tugged at your heart:

It's wandering in my mind / It's haunting my daydreams / I follow after it, blind / I fall apart at the seams

After a minute, you finally spoke—awkward as you explained the meaning of his own lyrics to him, “I always thought it was about… well, searching for thrills even though that’s not good for you.”

“It is,” Jungkook said. “The beginning is. But the chorus is about you.”

Before you could ask anything else, he mouthed the lyrics under his breath so quietly that you were unsure if you weren’t only imagining him singing it since you’d listened to the song so many times before.

Can I find you when I break? / Can I find you when it’s too much? / Can you forgive all my mistakes? / Can you save me with your touch?

Jungkook had written plenty of songs on his own, but from what you’d heard in the studio, his lyrics used to be too abstract. That was the main reason why Namjoon used to scold him.

“It lacks feeling!” he’d shout, agitated by his own expectations for the vocalist. “It’s like you’re singing about a bag of bricks!”

You knew that many of Jungkook’s early songs didn’t have a specific subject in mind. In this particular case, you assumed he was singing about someone—anyone, really—extending a helping hand or providing a shoulder to lean on. It was a comforting song, nothing more than that.

Jungkook was almost grateful for the surprise on your face—he was worried you’d tell him that you knew. He’d always thought it was obvious that this song was about you. After all, you were the only one who was always there for him.

And, in any case, who else would he write about if not you? As soon as he was criticised for lacking emotion in his lyrics, he started to write from experience. And you were his experience.

But, of course, you didn’t think to look for yourself in his lyrics. You didn’t want to find yourself there.

And now you weren’t sure what the appropriate response was when someone told you they wrote a song about you. “Thank you” didn’t seem sufficient, because the song was about you, not for you. “I love it” also didn’t capture it, because you didn’t love it because it was about you. You just did.

So, you remained silent, watching the lights on the skyscraper across the street and the reflection of the dark clouds in the dark windows. The people behind them were likely asleep, resting before they started their day in a few hours.

“I think…” Jungkook began, his sentence ending sooner than he’d expected. His eyes were glossy when you looked at him. “I think I’m writing about you again.”

You swallowed and nervously bit your lower lip. The night was warm, but the wind on the roof was relentless. You couldn’t help shivering.

Your mind was running before you could stop it. You didn’t want to resume your conversation from Stockholm; it had managed to be too much by not being nearly enough. You couldn’t return there again.

But you still asked, “what were you writing?”

“About missing you.”

You sat there, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your dark jeans with the tip of your index finger. You tried to suppress the anticipation building in your stomach before it could fully manifest. Before it could turn into a terrifying disappointment. Before it could show you that you were lying to yourself when you said you’d moved on.

“Please don’t ask me why I’m doing this now,” Jungkook said in a strained whisper.

Your voice faltered as you said, “I won’t.”

“J-just so you know, I felt the same way back home,” he said. “The only difference is that here in Europe, you have no choice but to be around me.”

The implication was clear, even if his voice wasn’t accusing you of anything. He believed you were only spending time with him because your job required you to.

“I don’t… avoid you back home,” you defended weakly—the only way you knew how right now.

Last night, you’d told him you missed him and it didn’t end well. Actually, it didn’t end at all—it sort of hung over you and made this conversation uncomfortable. Like a scratchy sweater, rubbing on your skin in all the wrong ways.

“I know,” he said. “But you never put in special effort to see me, either.”

You took a sip of your cocktail, tossing your head back to finish it.

Placing the glass back down on the table between your seats, you finally said, “I didn’t know you wanted me to, until you brought it up the other day.”

“Yeah. I know that, too,” Jungkook said sadly. His moves mirrored yours as he picked his glass up, but stopped before bringing it to his lips. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. About Stockholm.”

The pounding of your heart was very loud, and your voice was very quiet.

“What are you sorry for?” you asked.

He looked down. “There were a lot of things I wanted to say to you, but I… didn’t know how. It got kind of, um, weird.”

He scoffed at his own choice of words, and you realised that you weren’t alone on this rooftop. There was Discomfort, Awkwardness, and Avoidance dancing around you two.

“It…” you began, but words didn’t come easy. “It shouldn’t have been weird.”

He shook his head. He was worried that this would happen. Worried that you’d take responsibility for last night. You’d say you were the manager, so you should have known better. Should have set stricter boundaries. Should have never crossed them.

Now, you added tentatively, “I-I mean, we’re friends, right?”

You could have smashed your glass on his head and that would have hurt less than the cursed word.

This wasn’t about friendship and you both knew it.

But you needed to feel better. Last night had scared you, he could tell as much. And now you needed to make sense of it. You needed to find a way to interpret it in a way that felt right to your standards.

Normally, he would have helped you. Anything to make you feel comfortable, that’s all he wanted anyway.

But, tonight, he was drunk. And so in love with you that it hurt.

“I don’t know what we are,” he said.

Your hands were restless as you tapped your fingers on your legs.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” you said. “For us to be friends.”

“It is what I want, but it’s also—it’s much more than just—I’m sorry.” He slid his palms over his cheeks and pressed his hands together against his lips. “I don’t know how to—I could never put my thoughts into words in a way that wouldn’t be too much. Or too little.”

He thought that if his friends would have been here, they would have laughed. Four years he’s wanted you, waited for you, but pretended he didn’t.

Clearly, he needed lessons on how to openly discuss his feelings.

He inhaled—or tried to, anyway—and picked up his drink. You took this as an opportunity to look at him.

“You’re, um—you’re good at putting them into song lyrics, though,” you said.

He chuckled weakly and placed his empty glass down next to yours. There was Sadness, too, twirling on the rooftop. And faint traces of Regret.

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe I’ll write another song about how much I want you.”

You inhaled too sharply to appear nonchalant. The consecutive “another song” and “I want you” pulsated painfully in your chest.

Alarmed by the sound of your breathing, Jungkook turned to look at you.

“I—sorry,” he said, reading your expression. “I can’t say that, right?”

The fingers of your right hand nervously grasped at the fingers of your left. You regretted not wearing longer clothing that you could pull on.

“No, you, um—well, you can say whatever you feel,” you said. “I just, uh… you know that I can’t say it back.”

He observed your fidgeting and initially interpreted it as discomfort. But now he believed it to be something else—a more prominent emotion, brought on by something other than just this conversation.

Uncertainty.

You said you couldn’t say it back. You meant that you weren’t allowed to, as his manager.

But you didn’t say that you didn’t want to say it back.

His voice trembled when he spoke, the words pouring out in one breath, “but what if we weren’t working together? What if we were somewhere in Oslo, on the roof of some bar, just the two of us? And this fucking never-ending Scandinavian wind, of course,” he paused when he saw a small smile make its way to your lips. “But the wind isn’t telling anyone anything, either. Wh-what would you say then?”

You looked up as if you could actually see the wind. You didn’t know what scared you more: thinking what it’d be like if you weren’t working together—because a few hours ago, that possibility seemed almost real—or admitting your thoughts out loud.

It returned, the heaviness of anticipation that you’d felt last night. You were very naïve to think you could stop it from coming back. To think you could quench the wishful thinking.

This anticipation seemed to control you more than you could control it.

“I’d say that this wind feels like we’re back on campus, loudly talking about our mid-terms and chasing after loose papers that wind had blown out of our hands,” you said. There was a reluctant, nostalgic smile on your face. “Then returning to my dorm room and listening to my neighbours argue about their dead plant, even though they’re both guilty of not looking after it. T-this feels like back then.”

“And how do you feel?” he asked near desperately.

You exhaled, but did not reply. Your skin tingled with pins and needles.

“It’s me,” he said, his tone gentler now. “There’s no one else here.”

And there it was – the moment that didn’t come in Stockholm.

Dizzy, you said, “I feel the same way as I did back then.”

Jungkook held his breath.

“I really need you to tell me,” he pleaded, “what way.”

You pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and focused on suppressing the goosebumps that arose on every part of your skin that his eyes touched.

“Just… exhilarated. From life. From love,” you spoke, your eyes fluttering to him. Frightened by the intensity of his gaze as he watched you, you looked back at the edge of the roof. “From you.”

You heard his breath quiver.

“Look at me,” he asked in a stern, yet powerless whisper.

You did—and he forgot what he was going to say.

He felt like you were both back there again, too. Like nothing had changed—because nothing had, not fundamentally—like he could reach out and you’d be there. Providing him with the noise he needed to not feel alone, and the comfort he needed to not feel overwhelmed.

Neither of you realised that he had leaned in until you felt the warmth of his breath—laced with a strong scent of whiskey—on your lips. Until your lungs started to burn from holding your breath so hard. Until you parted your lips slightly and the oxygen that slipped in was so full of echoes of his taste that you felt the roof turning upside down.

He closed his eyes as he lingered millimetres away from you, the close proximity putting you both in a trance so painfully blissful that not connecting your lips seemed almost sacrilegious.

You were hypnotised, too overwhelmed by the familiarity of the feeling—the barely thereness of his lips against yours—to think of anything else.

You couldn’t pull away.

But, in a blind panic, he was the one who did.

Blinking in surprise as he moved away, you found yourself frozen, eyes locked on the empty space in front of you.

Jungkook stared at the ground, breathless and wide-eyed.

Even drunk, he couldn’t do this.

There was Minjun’s face in his head—his initial discomfort the first time he found out about the bet. There was the conversation in the bar—and the cake metaphor, even though Jungkook thought he neither had the cake, nor could he eat it. There was Sid in his head, too—his smug grin as he insisted Jungkook would lose.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could hear white noise in place of thoughts, and something else, too—his own screams.

What did I do, what did I do, what did I do, what did I—

You couldn’t hear his attempts to inhale because as soon as he pulled away, your own thoughts grew louder. The realisation of what had happened again—what had almost happened again—was so strong, it almost pushed you down to the floor. You had to grip your chair not to double over from the weight of it.

You knew he was drunk, despite seemingly sobering up a bit on the roof. And he pulled away. Meanwhile, you’d had a few drinks tonight and you were going to let him—were waiting for him to—kiss you.

Somehow, he’d managed to exhibit more rationality while intoxicated, than you could while nearly sober.

You stood up.

Pausing for a second as you debated if you should give him an excuse for why you were leaving, you mumbled something about calling him a taxi, and walked away without turning back.

The door slammed shut behind you, but Jungkook still didn’t dare to lift his gaze. He was too focused on clenching his fists so he wouldn’t throw the empty glasses down the side of the roof.

Alone on the staircase, you welcomed the emotion that had trailed after you all the way from Sweden.

You were angry.

But not at this. Not at what could’ve happened and didn’t. Not at him, not for leaning in, and not for pulling away.

You were angry at yourself. For letting yourself wish for something you shouldn’t have wished for. And for feeling disappointed when your wish didn’t come true.

Twice, you’ve found yourself on the edge of almost. Twice.

Last night, you’d told him it was easy to get overwhelmed by all the memories that your time together has brought back. But perhaps it wasn’t him who got overwhelmed. Perhaps it was you.

Perhaps seeing each other so often had blurred the lines, and you found yourself forgetting. Found yourself yearning. Hoping.

But the fact remained—and you repeated it in your head over and over again as you climbed the stairs down from the roof, clutching the railing as if your life depended on it—you broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason. You broke up for a reason.

It was shocking how little that reason mattered when you closed your eyes in the taxi ten minutes later, and all you could picture was what it would’ve been like if you’d been the one to close the distance between your lips tonight.

And as thoughts of Reconnaissance and Nick’s offer returned to your mind on the ride back, you wondered if tonight was a pro or a con.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “careful what you wish for”

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts au #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts rockstar au #jungkook rockstar au #bts reactions #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic

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hellodarling1357 · 5 months

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Flames and Embers: Part 2 - Cassian x Vanserra!Reader (slow burn)

Thank you for all of the love on part one of Flames and Embers, it honestly means the world!

The next few parts will still have a bit of character set up, but I'm going off of this for everyone's (approx) ages because there will probably be a few different time line jumps throughout the chapters, at least until it's all caught up.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or if you've got any questions about this fic (or any of my others)!

I'm hoping to get a new chapter out every week. I've got a mass word doc already with so so so many ideas and little snippets that I'm so excited to properly write!

As always, requests are open!!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 2.6k

~ 528 years earlier ~

“But Father, I don’t want to go.” You were seven years old and had just been escorted to the entrance hall after being stuffed into a gown, hair done up in twirls with a small tiara placed atop your head.

Beron fixed you with a cold look as he assessed your appearance, causing you to shift on the spot as your brothers snickered behind his back.

“What did you say?”

“I just said that I didn’t want to go…” You trailed off, too late in realising your mistake.

Rule one, don’t question your High Lord.

Rule two, don’t talk back.

It made no difference that he was your father, your loyalty and obedience to his throne always came first, and within the span of just a few seconds, you had already broken the rules that had been outlined for you since before you could talk.

“If I say you are going, then you are going,” The lack of emotion in his voice sent chills over you, making you stare down at your feet to escape his pressing glare. “The only good that comes from having you as a daughter, is the chance of marrying you off and receiving a handsome dowery– “

“But Father, surely she is too young–“ The slap to the face that Eris received had the room coming to a standstill, even the snickering of your other brothers was silenced at the impact.

“Obviously she’s not getting married tonight, stupid boy. No, we need to start making her presence known, so that when the time comes it will be an easy enough transaction.”

You quietly sniffled, trying to hold back your tears. All you wanted to do was to run back upstairs and hide in your room. Your father turned back to the fae males who had silently watched the scene with smug smirks, resuming their previous conversation as you waited to depart for the Spring Court Ball.

With wide, watery eyes, you turned to face Eris. He had tried to help you and had gotten hurt in the process, but now he was back to his cold, distant self. This happened a lot, you had begun to realise. He would be warm and loving towards you, would try to protect you, but as soon as the others were around or it became too noticeable, he would act as though you didn’t exist.

You didn’t know what you had done wrong to have the others treat you like this, but you didn’t want to disappoint your father or your brother’s any further, so you wiped away your tears and raised your chin, silently waiting for the order to leave; slipping into the role of the perfect, silent female as you pushed away you worries surrounding the night ahead.

*****

The fae male your father worked with sneered down at you when he was ordered to winnow you to the Spring Court, still, you wouldn’t mention it to your father in case it was further reason for him to be angry with you, in case the male’s reaction was because of something you had done – not realising it was purely because you were a female who existed within the Autumn Court.

You timidly trailed in behind your brothers, who were pushing each other around as they followed your father into the glowing ballroom. Your family was announced upon entrance, and they all quickly dispersed into the crowd, leaving you lingering in the doorway with no idea what you should be doing; whether you should stay out of sight or if you should be following their lead. It was too late now; you had already lost sight of them so resorted to making your way around the edge of the room where you tried to copy what the other fae females were doing. It was too bad that none of them were anywhere near your age or bothered to acknowledge you in anyway. With a sigh you retreated to one of the shadowed corners and slumped into the seat as you observed the ballroom with disdain.

“Who are you?” The sudden appearance of the boy made you jump out of your chair, edging around it to create some distance between the two of you.

“Who are you?”

“I asked you first,” You warily glared at him, taking in his dark hair and violet eyes; he had to have been around the same age as you. There was a beat of silence before he continued, “I’m Rhys. Or Rhysand. But only my father calls me that. I much prefer Rhys. Did you know that I’m going to be a High Lord one day?”

You stayed silent, glancing around the room for any sight of your own father or brothers. Regardless of who this boy said he was, or who he was going to be, you knew your father wouldn’t approve of you talking to him and that it would most likely result in a lecture about maintaining appearances and, depending on his mood after tonight, a potential beating at your disobedience.

Oblivious to your discomfort, the boy, Rhys, continued talking, “Are you from Autumn?”

Your eyes shot towards him, before quickly looking around “Why? Why do you say that?”

That was another of your father’s rules broken if Rhy had already figured out who you were.

“Your hair,” You gave him a look of confusion, “It’s red?” He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, it is. By why does that mean I’m from Autmn?” Maybe you could try to throw him off, after all, your father had always said not to trust anyone from the other courts.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t.” His face was a mixture of deep contemplation and intrigue. “But it’s a good guess. Look, that’s all the High Lord’s sons over there, and they all have red hair.”

You head whipped around so fast, fear widening your eyes but, thankfully, they weren’t paying any attention to you.

“Can I tell you a secret? But you have to promise not to tell anyone.” It seemed the future High Lord had already jumped onto his next trail of thought, no longer curious about which court you hailed from.

“I heard, and I wasn’t supposed to hear, but I did. I heard my father, he’s the Night Court High Lord, saying to the males he works with that the Autumn High Lord is,” He looked around, giving you a conspiratorial smile as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice to quote his father, “a real piece of work.”

Rhys looked at you, gauging your reaction to the scandalous piece of news. You froze, not sure how to respond, but then a giggle left you, followed by another and another. You tried to hide your smile behind your hand but the pleased look on Rhys’ face and his laugh that followed made you giggle even harder.

“Rhysand.” A stern voice bit through the air, halting you both mid laugh. “Come over here. Now.” You had frozen at the tone of the male’s voice, used to associating the coldness of it with some form of punishment. Rhys, however, didn’t seem too concerned as he merrily said, “See you later, Autumn.” and made his way over to where his father and a female, who you could only assume was his mother, stood.

*****

You shook your head as if to clear the memories that had begun to resurface after your encounter with Rhysand in the dungeon. A part of you yearned for the simplicity of your youth, however, you now knew that simplicity didn’t necessarily mean happiness. And that, in reality, the simplicity you had experienced was purely your own youthful ignorance to the world around you.

Weeks had passed since the bargain had been made and Rhysand was yet to properly utilise your side of the deal. Not that you were complaining. The only times he had even deigned to acknowledge you since that night always seemed to coincide with your visits to Feyre. You could now guarantee that within the hour of you return from the dungeons, his voice would infiltrate your mind; only ever asking how “Feyre Darling” seemed to be faring.

The night before Feyre’s final task had arrived all too quickly. The party was in full swing – the fae around you drank and lounged and danced, others stood around laughing and singing as though they had no care in the world.

You stood with Lucien against a wall, both of you had a drink in hand but that was as festive as you would allow yourself to appear, especially when considering what Feyre would be facing tomorrow.

Neither of you talked much in public, leaving the decades worth of missed conversations for when you managed to find some quiet in the privacy of your own rooms. Instead, you observed the partygoers together and kept an eye out for the rest of your brothers and your father. Your mother was a rare sight at events such as these, over the years she had become more and more reserved, now, however, you couldn’t blame her one bit. Especially when considering the sight you were forced to witness as two young fae females sat draped across the arms of the seat your father occupied; you turned away in disgust, a scoff from Lucien was the only acknowledgement that he had also noticed.

Lucien pulled you from your thoughts with an elbow nudged into your side, inclining his head towards where Tamlin had silently moved to stand next to Feyre. You smiled at the sight, knowing how much she had missed him. At the sight of Tamlin sauntering off and Feyre trying to casually follow after him, you and Lucien shared a knowing smirk. All too suddenly, that small flicker of joy was extinguished with a scrape across your mental shield.

“Eyes and ears. Y/N, dearest”.

He offered no further instruction, but you knew what, who, he was referring to. With a disgruntled sigh, you pushed off the wall, murmuring to your youngest brother that you would see him later, before making your way through the crowd and out the door that Feyre and Tamlin had disappeared through.

The scene before you in the long stretch of corridor had you hesitating as you quietly shut the door behind you. They were clearly too caught up in, well, one another to even realise they were no longer alone. Also, seemingly oblivious to the fact that anyone could have walked in on them; you didn’t want to imagine what would have happened if they had been caught by someone else.

“Is this what you were wanting?” You shot back at Rhys, showing him the sight before you.

“I appreciate your efficiency. Best to make yourself scarce.” He purred back. You were too tired to think about what his words meant.

Not wanting to head back to the party that was becoming more and more unruly as the night went on, you made your way up the stairs and headed to your room, careful not to disturb Feyre and Tamlin as you passed by, hoping to allow them even just a moment of peace. You knew you wouldn’t be sleeping, not with the thought of what was to come tomorrow, but at least you would have a bit of quiet before everything changed, whether that be for the worse or the better.

*****

“Well, you certainly maintained your knack for having perfect timing over the years.”

The drawl of Rhys’ voice and his sudden appearance by the small window in your room had you jumping back, heart beating furiously in your chest.

“What do you want?” You voice was a low snarl as you glared at the High Lord, too tired and too fed up with the situation at hand to feign even an ounce of respect.

“I’m hurt, I thought you were beginning to warm up to me, what with your recent little trips down memory lane,” He tapped a finger to the side of his head, making a snarl appear on your face at the implication. “Seems as though you’ve been thinking about a lot of people from our past lately.” This was the most either of you had ever acknowledged the friendship you had once shared; of the other life you were so close to having before it was so cruelly snatched out of your hands.

“Stay out of my head.” He simply chuckled in response as he leant against the wall, silently observing you as he absentmindedly picked at his dark dress shirt.

“Why did you have me do that? You couldn’t allow Feyre a moment of happiness before whatever she has planned for her tomorrow?” You quickly changed the subject before he decided to delve even deeper into those memories of the past, your voice spitting out the word in reference to Amarantha.

You were surprised at the scoff Rhys let out, a scowl of his own appearing on his face at the thought of what he had walked in on, what you had shown him.

“Utter fools,” he seemed to say to himself as he crossed the room and sat in one of the old armchairs. “You're honestly telling me you don't see what was wrong with that whole…situation?”

Honestly? No, you didn’t. But you weren’t going to offer up an ounce of conversation as he begun making himself at home.

“He had a chance. A chance to get Feyre out. But instead, he wastes the opportunity on a quick fuck,” Your eyebrows narrowed at his words. That was not what you were expecting him to say, but now that you thought about it… Rhys hurriedly continued, voice laced with irritation, “If you were even just a minute later with showing me what was happening, it would’ve been too late for me to intervene, and then Amarantha would have seen everything.”

“I don’t understand…”

“That bitch would have killed Feyre on the spot if she had seen the two of them together. And if Feyre is dead… well, then the rest of us are well and truly fucked because there will be no other chances of getting out of this mess.”

His candour had your head spinning in cartwheels, still trying to catch up on the implication of his words, his actions.

“So…,” You started, still piecing it all together, “you were trying to protect her? After everything you’ve done, you, what? Suddenly grow a conscience?”

He just gives you an incredulous look before standing up with a disappointed sounding sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, YN.” The dark shadows start to gather around him but something in your stomach felt unsettled at his sudden departure.

“Wait, Rhys? What’s your end game here? What are you planning?” The shadows disappeared the moment the words were out, a smug grin appearing on his face.

“So, it’s back to being Rhys again, is it? Here I was thinking you preferred to call me Rhysand nowadays.”

Letting out a scoff you rolled your eyes. For a fleeing moment he had seemed so much like the male you had once known. Now, however, the new asshole version of him stood before you again; the epitome of arrogance and entitlement.

“Honestly, I would prefer to call you a prick, but it doesn’t seem overly appropriate, High Lord.” You offered a mocking curtsey.

A deep laugh escaped him as the darkness gathered around his shoulders again, leaving you with a final, “goodnight, Y/N.” then you were once again alone in your room, the dread of what tomorrow would bring curling itself around you.

*****

Thanks for reading 🥰

Tag List: @dr4g0ngirl @esposadomd @judig92 @hnyclover @sarawritestories @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @macimads @gorlillaglue25

#cassian x reader #vanserra!reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #cassian acotar #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 7

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, bit of smut.

Word Count: 4,813

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Chapter 7 has arrived. 😊 I hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, commenting and reblogging this series! It means SO much! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Three and a half weeks later

“And these would be beside every tent?” Dean asked Brandy as he looked at the rough drawings she’d made of her latest idea.

She nodded. “Yeah, on the West side of every tent. It would mean families don’t have to come to Food Storage every few days for more rations, and once the deep snow comes that’s gonna be a huge benefit for folks. Plus it’s easier for people to plan ahead and stretch their food if they have two weeks worth of rations sitting outside their tent. I mean, it won’t work once spring comes, but that’s a problem for spring.”

Dean nodded. He looked at their builders, the group of half a dozen survivors that were tasked with providing new buildings and necessities as the camp required. They’d built the sheds earlier in the year, the chicken coop last summer and were currently finishing up a small barn for the cow.

“Is this gonna interfere with completing the barn?” He asked, nodding at Brandy’s drawings.

One of the women, he was pretty sure her name was Vanessa, shook her head. “No, we’ll be finished with the barn in a couple of days, and be able to get Lily settled for the winter all snug, and then move on to the food sheds.” She looked at the drawing again and shrugged. “They’re small enough that we should be able to get them all done within a few weeks?”

She looked to the rest of the builders who nodded their agreement.

Dean frowned. “Lily?”

Vanessa grinned. “Yeah, sorry that’s what the kids have dubbed our little cow. Y/N has them going to visit her once a week so Ralph can teach them about farming.” She said, referring to the old farmer who had helped to plant the winter vegetables.

Dean felt his stomach twist as it always did when someone brought up her name. But he just nodded. “Okay, good. Get started on the food sheds as soon as you’re able. The deep snow is gonna come in the next couple weeks. It’d be good to have them all done by then.”

They all gave a chorus of “Okay, Boss” or “Sure thing Boss” as they nodded and took their leave. They wrapped their scarves tight and pulled on their mittens. The deep snow may not have come yet, but the ground was layered in white, and winter was sharp and stinging in the late November air.

Brandy gathered up her drawings and was headed out when Dean called her back.

“Brandy?”

She turned back to him, an eyebrow raised in question. They'd never discussed their meeting in the cabin with Y/N, but he'd noticed a slightly colder demeanor from her lately.

And he knew why, of course.

Brandy had been one of the original dozen survivors who had built the camp together. She'd been an incredible asset from the beginning, and they probably wouldn't have survived without her planning and strategies for running the camp. He and the soldiers may have kept the survivors alive, but Brandy kept them living by organizing and planning for their food and shelter. She was an invaluable member of the camp.

But three weeks ago he'd treated her like a servant meant to do his bidding. He knew he owed her an apology, but it had been so long since he'd apologized for anything that it stuck in his throat.

Now she contemplated him, waiting for him to speak, and he just nodded. He pointed towards her drawings.

“This is a good idea.” He cleared his throat. “So, thanks.”

Brandy stared a moment longer before a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She nodded.

“No problem, Boss. That's what we're all here for, right?”

Dean just nodded and she lifted her scarf over her face and left the big cabin where Dean conducted most of his business these days, since it was warmer than his tent and could fit more people.

As he ran a hand over his face, the door opened again and most of his soldiers tromped inside. They were there to talk about security and possible threats, but Dean immediately looked at Johnston.

“Hey, did you tell her I want to see her?”

The thin man nodded vigorously. “Yes sir. I told her yesterday. Has…has she not come to see you yet?” He looked around the room as though Y/N might be hiding somewhere.

Dean shook his head. “No, she hasn't.” He pointed towards the door. “So why don't you go get her and tell her I expect to see her now.”

Johnston looked wary and as though he definitely didn't want to follow that order. But when Dean just stared him down, he turned and left quickly.

The rest of his soldiers began giving their reports about any problems they were having at the outposts, like equipment that needed repair or items that needed replenishing. But Dean was only half listening; his gaze kept straying to the door, waiting for Y/N to show.

Ten minutes later, Patrick was briefing him and Dean tried to focus on what he was saying.

“Williams has seen the group twice now, but -” Patrick cut himself off as Y/N and Johnston pushed through the door.

Y/N smiled at the soldiers as she came in. “Sorry to interrupt, but apparently I was summoned.”

She cut her glance to Dean and her smile turned brittle.

“I was told you needed to see me.”

“Yeah, since yesterday.” Dean responded, hardening his voice in an attempt to not seem desperate, especially in front of his soldiers.

“Sorry. Busy.” Was Y/N's curt reply. “What do you need?”

Dean took a deep breath. “I just wanted to know how you're -” he altered his words, “your school, or, uh, the school was going?”

Y/N paused for a moment before answering with a shrug.

“Fine.”

When it was clear that was all she was going to say, Dean scowled at her. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

She raised her chin a fraction. “Oh, I'm sorry, Boss, I don’t have anything else to say right now, but I’ll be sure to write out a full report for next week.”

Her eyes shot daggers that found their mark, bringing a pain to his chest that he felt a lot these days. He’d thought it might go away if he could talk to her, see her, but it was just worse with her there.

He shook his head. “That won't be necessary.” He said quietly.

“Anything else then, Sir?”

He'd never hated that moniker more. “No, that's it.”

She spun on her heel and walked out of the cabin. Silence reigned when she left. Dean waved at everyone else. “We'll finish this another time.” When they didn't immediately move, he made his voice a bit sharper.

“Dismissed.”

That got them moving and they all shuffled their way out the door - all except Risa. She closed the door behind her fellow soldiers and then turned back to face Dean.

He caught her eye and lifted his hands. “What?”

She shook her head slowly. “You're such an idiot.”

Dean dropped his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try that again?”

Risa shook her head as she walked back to him. “No, I said what I said.”

Dean gave her a look of annoyance as she reached him and leaned one hip on the table where he stood. She raised her hand to his cheek, her countenance softening.

“I really wanted to be the one.”

Dean scowled in confusion. “The one what?”

Risa pushed her fingers through his short hair. “The one to make you smile.” There was a long pause between them and Dean had no idea how to respond to that. She shook her head and stood up straight, dropping her hand. “But, it was obviously meant to be her.”

Dean scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You know I'm talking about Y/N.”

He gave a short burst of sarcastic, humorless laughter. “Yeah, right. You think Y/N's gonna make me smile? I've done nothing but pull my hair out since she got here, so ..” He trailed off and looked away from Risa's knowing gaze.

Risa nodded. “Yeah, cause you're an idiot.” She reiterated.

When he looked back at her, Risa was smiling softly and wistfully. “Apologize to her, idiot. Try to get back what you've nearly lost. She's pissed, don't get me wrong, it might take some real groveling on your part but,” she nodded, “she has a very kind heart, so she might forgive you. It's definitely worth a try.”

Dean stared at her for a moment before he looked down at the ground, conceding the truth in her words. “I don't know how to do it.”

Risa gave a gentle laugh. “You're a smart guy. Bet you'll figure it out.”

She put her hand on his cheek again, resting the other on his chest as she stood on tiptoe to reach his lips. She placed a light, lingering kiss there and then pulled away.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean felt a jolt of worry at the farewell. “You’re leaving? Am I losing a soldier?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, the soldier is staying. I'm saying goodbye to the woman I wanted to be for you. And the man that she…cared about a lot. I hope he lets himself be happy.”

Dean frowned, feeling the weight of her goodbye, with all of its disappointed hopes.

“Goodbye Risa.” He said, and knowing it wasn't enough, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her lips, light and brief. “Thank you…for being the woman you are.”

He thought he saw a glimmer of moisture in her eye, but she blinked it away quickly and pulled out from under his hands. She moved to the door in a few strides and, with one last smile thrown over her shoulder, she walked away.

***

That afternoon as the winter sun headed into the west, Dean made the decision to go talk to Y/N. This was ridiculous. They were a camp of less than 150 people, continuing to try and avoid each other was impractical.

He'd just go tell her that.

He walked to the school because she was usually still there this time of day. But when he got there, the schoolroom was empty. He looked around the space that he hadn't seen in over a month and had to shake his head.

What had been a cold empty shed not even three months ago was now a warm, inviting, cozy space. She'd had a little camp stove installed, and on the Northern wall, replacing the fall leaves that had been there, was a giant, beautifully sewn quilt. He recognized it as the same design as the one that hung in the big cabin.

Hannah, who was Ralph-the-farmer's wife, had made it out of old scraps of material. It took a long time to gather enough scraps for a whole quilt so he knew this quilt probably took her months of hard work. But of course she'd gifted it to Y/N and the school. That's what Y/N brought out in people - hard work and generosity.

The small wooden table in the room had four chairs around it now and he wondered where she'd snagged the other two chairs.

The kids’ blanket seating had been enhanced slightly with the addition of a few pillows, and on the western wall, beside the old map, two long, weathered planks of wood had been nailed in place to serve as bookshelves. The books he'd brought back had been placed lovingly on the shelves, not a single corner bent on any of them.

He sighed at the changes and felt a warmth flare to life in his heart. Y/N did this too - seeming to warm the spaces around her without trying.

He walked out of the schoolroom and was just starting to walk back to his tent when he heard high pitched giggles coming from the side of the school just seconds before three small bodies hurtled forward, chasing and grabbing on to one another - Emma and her two little friends. He couldn't remember their names.

When they all saw him, the laughter fell away and Emma's eyes got wide, fear and suspicion filling them instantly. It felt like a punch when he remembered the way she'd climbed up on the chair beside him that one time, shy acceptance in her expression as she asked him to read to her.

He hated that she was so scared of him; he had to try and fix that much, at least.

��Hi girls.” He said in what he hoped was a friendly sounding voice. Emma's friends nodded and waved at him slightly. But Emma stayed on high alert.

He looked at her two friends. “I need to talk to Emma, so you girls head on home now.”

They looked to Emma who looked more scared than ever. But she whispered goodbye to them and they ran off.

Dean got a bit closer to her and went down on his haunches. He took a second to think what to say to her.

“You know, you don't have to be scared of me.”

“I'm not.” Emma said quickly while her big blue eyes were shrouded in fear.

Dean nodded. “Okay, good because…” He struggled to find the words that would help. “Cause I thought maybe I scared you a bit before. When I, uh, needed to talk to your mom alone.”

Emma nodded, the suspicion growing in her gaze. “When you were mad at Mommy.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I wasn't mad.”

Emma gave him a look that said she didn't believe him and he conceded with a nod.

“Okay, I was a little…upset, but I was just…confused. Eventually everything got figured out.”

She didn't say anything, clearly still highly skeptical.

Dean took a deep breath and decided to just go for it. “Anyway, I didn't mean to scare you and I'm…sorry about it.” He cleared his throat. “And I promise not to scare you like that again. Okay?”

Emma stared at him for a long time and he kept hold of her earnest blue gaze throughout her scrutiny. Slowly a smile spread across her face.

“Okay.” She said, accepting him at his word. “Then can you come over again for supper tonight? I can read a bunch of words now, mommy taught me in the books. So, I could help you read the story this time.”

Dean shook his head at the speedy ways of forgiveness in a child's heart, and for the first time in more years than he could remember, a small smile turned up one side of his mouth.

He reached out to pat her cold cheek. “I'm not sure, kiddo. We'll have to wait and see.” Emma was about to argue the point but Dean stood up. “Now it's gonna be dark soon and it's way too cold for you to be out here without a scarf. Don't you have one?” He asked.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, but I don't like it. It itches.”

Dean hummed. “Ah, yeah wool does that sometimes.” He unwound his own scarf from around his neck.

“Here, I'll trade you.” He said as he wound the polyester scarf around her neck and up over her cheeks. “Now, you head home.”

Emma's eyes were bright and happy above her new scarf as she danced away, skipping through the light snow that blanketed the ground.

He watched her go for a moment before turning back to head home himself. But he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Y/N standing in the path with an arm full of wood. Silence reigned for nearly a full minute. Finally he reached forward to take the wood, but Y/N shook her head.

“No, I’m fine.” She nodded toward the school. “Just stocking up for tomorrow.”

“Right.”

More silence. Y/N’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “Thank you for the scarf. It’s been impossible to get her to wear one.”

He nodded and then realized something. “How long were you standing there?”

Y/N took a deep breath, answering on an exhale. “Since just before you promised my daughter not to scare the shit out of her again.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. “So, basically the whole time.”

“Yeah, basically.” She took a beat pause. “Thank you for that.”

Dean nodded. She walked towards the school again but before she could close the door and shut him out, Dean called to her, knowing his voice sounded desperate.

“I needed to believe it.”

Y/N turned in the doorway, a frown on her face. “Needed to believe what?”

He took a step closer, feeling choked by all the words he wanted to say that wouldn’t form properly in his mind. Y/N stared at him for a moment more before huffing slightly and walking into the schoolroom. He followed her inside, closing the door against the wind as she dropped the pile of wood into a metal bucket by the stove.

When she turned back to face him, she was scowling. “Dean, I don’t know what you want here. What do you want me to say?”

He shook his head. He didn’t want her to say anything. He wanted to say things, so many things. “No, nothing.” He croaked out.

She crossed her arms over her chest, bunching up her too big jacket. “Then what are you doing here?”

He took deep breaths in through his nose, pushing the words out through a closed throat. “I needed to believe it.” He said again, quieter this time.

“Believe what?” Y/N asked in frustration.

He stepped close to her and she took a step back before refusing to retreat. He gazed at her and wished more than anything that she really could just see inside his head so he wouldn’t have to try and get it out.

But he looked at the ground quickly and then back at her. His breathing was slightly labored and his voice was thin as he spoke. “You’re so dangerous to me, Y/N.”

He knew he said the wrong words when her forehead wrinkled into a deep frown and she nodded. “Because - I’m a psychic monster? Or because I’m a croat? Why exactly am I dangerous this time?”

“Because you’re you.” Dean answered loudly, speaking over the end of her question. He sighed in frustration; he was getting all of this wrong. He looked up to the heavens, as though they could possibly help him, and tried again, speaking softer.

“I needed to believe that you could control my mind or my…my feelings because…” He trailed off and looked at Y/N hoping she’d just know what he was saying and finish the sentence for him. But she was still just frowning in confusion.

“Because,” he continued, “my feelings when I'm around you are…dangerous. For me, I mean, they’re dangerous. Y/N I can’t…” He shook his head. “The way you look at the world? And the way you change how I see it too? It’s so fucking dangerous.”

He waved his hand, trying to encompass everything. “This world is ugly and shitty, and fucking ended! We literally lived through the end of the world, and now all that’s left is this - this dark, violent, bullshit reality.”

He shook his head and his voice was filled with awe. “Yet somehow you move through it like this,” again he struggled for the words to describe her, “like some kind of lighthouse, like a refuge for every cold, lost thing. And I - “

He cut himself off, not sure he was making any sense. But Y/N had stopped frowning and was now just contemplating him.

He shrugged. “And when I’m around you, I feel warmer than I’ve felt in years, brighter.” He shook his head and moved away from her, embarrassed by his confession and knowing he wasn't saying it right.

He stared at the map as he spoke. “So, I needed to believe that the feelings weren’t real, that you’d just forced me to feel that way. Because if the feelings and thoughts you bring out of me are real?” His shoulders slumped. “God, I’m so fucked.”

He felt Y/N come up to stand just behind him on his right, but he stayed staring at the map as she spoke.

“Why? What’s so dangerous about warmth and light?”

His voice was barely audible as he answered slowly. “Because they bring hope. And hope is a lie. It’s a lie I believed for a long time, a lie I clung to. The lie of possibilities, of family, of good conquering evil. And when the lie was revealed and the world fell apart, the truth almost killed me.”

After a moment he turned to face her and felt his heart skip as he saw her expression of sadness and the tears that sparkled in her eyes, even in the growing dusk.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and thumbed away a tear as it fell over her bottom lashes. “And Y/N, if I allow myself to hope again, and it gets crushed by the world again…” He shook his head. “I won’t survive it, I know I won’t.”

He took a step closer to her and felt her warmth penetrating his cold bones. She grabbed his free hand and held it in both of hers as he dropped his other hand from her cheek.

“Or…” she said, her voice filled with conviction, “or we can both hope, both fight, and both win. Even if we never get big wins, the little ones still count. And they add up. Every day we’re here alive is a win. Every time we smile at someone and they smile back is a win. Every time the sun shines so bright you have to close your eyes, every time we hear Emma giggle, every time our stomachs are full, every time we do something to make our home here better - every small thing adds up to big wins.”

Dean shook his head. He knew that trying to resist the pull of her light and life was pointless; she’d been pulling him out of the dark, and changing his plans since the moment she’d come into his life.

He used their connected hands to pull her tight against him and watched heat enter her beautiful, red-ringed eyes.

He bent his head, but before his lips touched hers, he whispered words that came much easier now. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For all of it. I’m so sorry.”

Another tear fell down her cheek and she smiled and bit her lip. “If I say you’re forgiven will you kiss me?”

He pretended to mull it over and then nodded. “Yes, I think that’s fair.”

In the dusky twilight around them he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers; his arms tightened around her as she moaned softly.

He was definitely counting that sound as a win.

***

Over the next month Dean resumed his dinners with Y/N, the difference being that he was there nearly every night, and he’d stopped pretending to himself that he didn’t relish every moment with her and Emma.

Over the evenings spent together, Emma had warmed more and more to him so that now she ran to meet him every time he walked through their tent flap, holding her arms up so he’d pick her up and toss her up into the air, catching her in a swooping motion as she came down. It made Y/N gasp every time, but Emma squealed with delight. He’d set her down and she’d grab his hand, nearly three times the size of hers, and pull him over to the table.

He’d take off his heavy canvas jacket within the relative warmth of the tent, and drape it over Emma’s shoulders, making her giggle as she drowned inside it.

They’d sit around the table and share the day's events, though Emma usually did the majority of the talking. It always brought a mixture of feelings when he listened to her bubbly, excited stories. It made him happy and terrified at the same time. She was so precious he couldn’t help but smile, an expression that was becoming easier for him as the days went by. But also, his chest felt tight and he could feel terror creep in as the darkness whispered a warning, telling him that he couldn’t possibly keep her safe. He’d lose her, and Y/N too.

Sometimes that thought woke him from a deep sleep and made him shake and sweat. It was proving incredibly difficult to make all his fears go away. But as soon as he saw Y/N’s smile the next day, it felt easier.

In fact it was becoming increasingly difficult to go home at all, to leave her warm cozy tent and return to his dismal gray one. But they were trying to be careful and move slowly in deference to Emma. They didn’t want her to feel confused or unsure of things now that she finally seemed so at ease.

So they hid their kisses and their caresses until after Emma was sleeping, at which point they’d usually try and brave the cold long enough to enjoy some alone time, even if it was encumbered by bulky jackets and scarves. They never had enough time, but they’d managed slightly more satisfactory make out sessions in the empty school and in Dean’s tent. But they were always too rushed and things had to end too quickly.

Dean ached for her more and more every day.

One evening in mid December, the air was much milder than usual; the day had been unseasonably warm and the night held on to a trace of it. Dean had Y/N pressed up against the side of the thick canvas tent, sucking on the soft skin just below her ear. As her breath caught and she angled her head so that he had better access, he was practically vibrating with how badly he needed to feel her.

As he breathed into her mouth, he slowly unzipped her jeans, letting her tell him no if she wanted. But she just nodded and bit her lip.

He watched her face as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of the leggings she wore as an extra layer against the cold, and then down into her panties. He desperately tried to stifle the moan that wanted to escape as he felt how soaking wet she was for him.

“Goddamn.” He whispered roughly as he slid two fingers inside her, rubbing his thumb against her little bundle of nerves and making her bite harder into her lip to keep quiet. He decided to help her out and closed his mouth over hers, swallowing up her small moans.

He pushed in and out of her body, his cock hardening as she gripped his forearm where it disappeared into her pants while her cunt clenched tight around his fingers. He passed his fingers over her sweet spot a couple of times and she fell over the edge. She broke off their kiss to bury a scream in his neck, muffling it with his thick collar.

As she came down she clung to him, her hot breaths creating puffs of white in the cold air. She moved her hand to cup his hard on through his jeans and was just reaching for his zipper when they suddenly heard Cas’ voice inside the tent.

“Emma, where is your mother and Dean?”

Dean groaned. What the fuck? Y/N squeaked slightly and pulled her hand back, making him absolutely throb with need. He was gonna slaughter his best friend.

They were quickly righting their clothing when Emma's voice reached them, and it didn’t really sound like she’d been sleeping.

“They’re outside the tent, kissing each other.”

Y/N’s eyes got huge and round and Dean stifled a snorted laugh behind his palm while she slapped his bicep.

“It’s not funny. Jesus, we’re gonna traumatize her!” She said in a horrified whisper.

Suddenly Cas’ head poked around the side of the tent and he frowned. “Are you finished kissing?”

Y/N buried her head in Dean’s chest and Dean scowled at the angel. “Well, we sure as hell are now.”

Cas nodded, completely ignoring Dean’s frustration. “Good. You need to come inside. I have incredible news.”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “What news, Cas?”

The angel’s smile was surprising in its rarity and it made Dean raise an eyebrow.

“I know why Y/N isn’t a psychic.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester smut #endverse!dean series #endverse!dean fan fiction #dean winchester #dean x reader

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tigertales9 · 7 months

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Quick writing update below but first … mood …

Damn, y'all, here we go again. I thought there was a chance that this injury was superficial and Joe would be back soon. Really devastated to hear that won't be happening. I just want to unleash positive vibes that his surgery (if needed) will be successful, and there will be no lingering issues for him to deal with. He's overcome so much, and I know he'll continue to fight through this and come out the other side stronger than ever.

I believe in him, and I believe in the culture that he's helped build in Cincinnati. This season didn't go the way any of us hoped, but there's always next year. Keep in mind the Super Bowl next season will be held in the Superdome in New Orleans. Does anyone else feel like that might be a date with destiny for the Bayou Bengals? Those two (Joe & Ja'Marr) have worked magic there a couple times already. It would be fitting for it to all come full circle for them on what is essentially home turf. Let's manifest it. 🙌

Quick writing update:

It might not be the best time for upbeat, fluffy fic, but I still intend to post the secret wedding/honeymoon chapter of the Hard Reset fic that I've been working on forever. I've been struggling a little to finish it for various reasons, and I'm realizing that the damn thing is getting hella long so I've decided to post it in two parts. I hope to get the first part up in the next week. The follow-up should be done fairly soon after. If you don't feel like reading upbeat, fluffy fic, believe me I understand. I'm still trying to decide if I'll continue the series after this chapter. There would be some positive stuff (wins against 49ers & Bills) plus some negative stuff (losses against Texans & Ravens + Joe's injury). If you're over it, let me know. Otherwise, I'll prob continue the series (s-l-o-w-l-y) since the holidays (and writer's block) will be kicking my butt.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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penkura · 1 month

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last forever [4/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: I DID IT, IT'S DONE IN TIME FOR MONDAY POSTING. This has been waiting to be finished for MONTHS. I feel so bad about that. uuuh but I'm setting up a little bit, introducing Reader's older brother, a few other things for later down the line. Hope you enjoy it.

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3]

Arriving in Loguetown felt almost like a dream come true, finally being able to get off the ship and stretch your legs. You'd not seen such a busy, bustling town in years. It put even Shells Town to shame with how many people were going about. The stalls of food and trinkets, you were excited to go around and look at everything before you'd all board the Merry again and be on your way to whatever was next. Nami immediately took you to shop for clothes, but you ended up distracted by some of the trinkets at the shop while she got an employee to look at everything she tried on.

The main thing to catch your eye was a sword on the wall, wondering if you should go find Zoro to bring in to see it.

“Oh,” one of the shop clerks smiles seeing you looking at the blade, “That’s from Wano, allegedly! Dad says he brought it back from a trip, but he’s not gonna sell it. It’s just decoration at this point.”

Your jaw clenches and you flinch the tiniest bit hearing Wano, but the clerk doesn’t say anything if she notices. Quickly you turn it into a smile, thanking her for the information and simply stating your friend would like to see it, you’ll try to bring him by, slipping out of the shop before Nami sees you leaving.

You take a deep breath and try to shake off the dread you feel hearing Wano, pushing out thoughts of your higher up fiancé who had every intention of taking you from your family there after the marriage was finalized. You’ve done your best to keep it a secret, it’s not like you’d all end up there anytime soon, if ever, so there’s no need to worry your crewmates about something and someone so far away, right?

Right.

So no need to say anything.

You try to convince yourself of that while looking over the trinkets at a stall you’ve found, not like you really need any of the items you see, but there’s something about the box you’ve been taking glances at constantly that leads the owner to pick it up and bring it over to you.

“It’s a set of wedding bands,” the older woman opens the box, showing you the two silver bands that are obviously meant for a man and a woman, a husband and wife, “Bought them from a jeweler in the South Blue years ago, no one has taken a shine to them yet. Are you in a relationship?”

Blinking, you feel your face grow warm as you smile nervously and shake you head.

“W-Well, I wouldn’t call it a relationship but…I…I have someone I like…”

“Oh I see! What’s this person like then? Must be special if they have your heart.”

“Um, well,” scratching the back of your neck, you don’t really have to think too hard, but it does feel a little weird telling this stranger about Zoro, “He’s really strong, an amazing swordsman, he taught me a good bit of what I know now. He's loyal to all of us, he fought to protect our friend and he…he saved me, I suppose is the biggest thing…”

The older woman smiles as you speak, seeing a shine to your eyes she wasn’t fully expecting. Whoever you’re talking about seems to have more of a hold on your heart than even you realize, she believes. Almost reminds her of herself when she was younger. She doesn’t ask anything else, instead waving you over with her as she starts to package up the ring box and hands it to you in a small bag.

“I won’t charge you for these, I’ve had them so long. Please, give the one to the man you’re so smitten with, maybe some good will come of it.”

She all but forces the bag into your hands, refusing to take no for an answer, even as you offer to at least pay for the bag or buy something else. She makes the excuse that she’s closed now and won’t accept even one berri from you, turning you around herself and sending you off. You felt bad that she just gave them to you, but she was so persistent, you think Nami will believe you haggled with the woman until she gave them to you for free.

Once you’re far enough away from the stall, you stop to take another look at the rings that were essentially forced on you. You don’t know why you wanted to check the box so badly before the woman brought them over to you, maybe some strange sense of what the box was, some weird hopeful part of you just somehow knew what it was.

They were pretty rings at least. Plain silver bands, the thinner one having a small clear jewel on it, you wonder how no one had ever bought them before when the woman said she’d had them for years. Part of you wonders what it would be like to wear the ring and actually be happy about it, and not feel like tearing it off and throwing it in the sea.

Not like it matters, it’s not a real marriage.

Sighing, you close the box and slip it into your pocket, starting to walk back towards the Merry before you hear someone say your name, shouting it a few times with excitement in their voice.

Wait. Wait, I know that voice.

You quickly turn around and have to will yourself not to cry when you see the person calling for you.

+!+

Once Zoro finally has three swords again, his next plan is to find a tavern before you all take off from Loguetown. He’s passed several places that he assumed some of you would be at, but just ducking his head in and looking around briefly showed no signs of any of you.

Mostly he’s been looking for you, to make sure you haven’t gotten yourself into any trouble. Since the day you’d met, Zoro knew you had the ability to put yourself in less than ideal situations, your home life did very little to make you skeptical of strangers, likely almost having it beat into you that you should be ready and willing to help anyone who asked for it. The one and only time it took to get it into your head not help anyone without asking questions was when you’d nearly been kidnapped, if Zoro hadn’t shown up in time and dragged you away. You sure got an earful from him later that night, with the threat that maybe he’ll just let a human trafficker take you next time if you’re that stupid again.

Zoro does realize that’s probably why you stay by his side, clinging to him like glue, but when it was just the two of you, it was the best way to make sure you didn’t get left behind or taken from him.

Part of him wonders how well that actually stuck, now that he sees you on the other side of the road, looking like you’re near tears as some guy talks to you with a bright smile on his face. He looks older, definitely taller than you but still shorter than Zoro, but not by much. He’s almost as blond as Sanji, and seems like he knows you very well. The angle he’s at doesn’t let Zoro know if you’re happy or upset, just that you’re wiping at your eyes with your sleeve, and he feels the need to hurry over to you, especially once this new person pulls you in for a hug that you can’t seem to return.

This guy.

He isn’t your alleged fiancé…right?

No, he’s too young.

“I’m so glad you’re doing well, who are you with right now?”

You sniffle a bit and give a smile before responding.

“I’m with—”

“She’s with me.”

Zoro surprises you by speaking and putting his arm around your shoulders, making you look up at him.

“Oh, Zoro, where did you—”

“Zoro?? So this is him?!”

If it weren’t for his previous status as the pirate hunter, Zoro would be questioning how this guy knows his name. He doesn’t even look at this other person, looking down at you to make sure you’re okay, even when you smile at him.

“Zoro, this is—”

“Hey, nice to meet you finally,” the blond holds his out for Zoro to take, but your swordsman is still wary of him, setting his free hand on his swords to maybe scare him off if he’s upsetting you, “Thanks for taking care of my little sister, man.”

“…little sister?”

Nodding, you move from Zoro to beside your brother, still smiling.

“Zoro, this is Elias, my older brother. He’s the one who helped me runaway and gave me his sword. Elias, this is—”

“Your husband!” Elias gives you such a bright grin that he doesn’t notice how you turn red and start trying to correct him. “I know already, mom and dad were pissed when your letter came. They’re still not sure what to do, you know.”

While he laughs, you sigh a bit, figuring that was why you hadn’t heard anything from them. Your parents must still be expecting you to come home, to say you’ve ended your marriage and they were right the whole time, you’ll just marry the man they chose for you.

It's not going to happen, but you think that’s probably what they want from you. To be a good daughter and do as your told.

It makes you want to throw up, remembering how they treated you.

“You’d think they’d be glad you and I both found people we love, but, you know mom and dad.”

“Since you married Amaya, I thought they’d leave me out of it all but, mom and dad of course.”

You keep up conversation with Elias for several minutes, Zoro barely listening as he just wants to make sure you’re really okay. You’ve never had a bad thing to say about your brother, he knows this, and truthfully, Zoro is happy to see you at least had someone from your hometown who cared about you. He does make note of how you aren’t trying to correct Elias regarding your relationship with him, but it’s likely so he keeps thinking you’ve found someone to keep you safe and away from your parents, even though you’re whole crew has promised that at this point.

Eventually Elias notices Zoro still staring at you both, looking like he’s getting antsy and wanting to leave, and your brother grins just a bit.

“I should get going. Amaya and our parents are expecting me back home in two days.”

“Oh,” your happiness suddenly drops, but you still nod, even when Elias hugs you again and you’re able to return it this time, “It…I was happy to see you, Eli.”

“I was even happier to see you doing well, princess,” Elias ignores you protesting him calling you that, while he turns to Zoro after releasing you, sticking his hand out again, “It was good to meet you too, Zoro. Thanks for taking care of my sister. I’m happy to know she found you.”

For a second you wonder if Zoro’s even going to bother shaking your brother’s hand, until he finally does you feel relieved.

“Yeah, no problem.”

You wave Elias off until he shouts something about you two having a child one day and letting him know immediately, causing both of you to blush fiercely as he laughs until he’s gone, and you look back to Zoro.

“S-So…where do you wanna go now?”

“Let’s…let’s find everyone else. Or at least Luffy.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Zoro turns and starts walking away from you, until you grab his wrist and start dragging him back the other way.

“No, this way.”

“…I knew that.”

He really didn’t, he fully believed that the best way would be back towards the docks, but when you giggle at him and start heading back into town, Zoro tries his hardest not to look at you too closely. Not to dwell on what your brother said, he was just messing with you both, since he doesn’t know the reality of your marriage.

So the fact Zoro’s suddenly wondering what your kids might look like makes him avoid eye contact, ignore the fact you’re still holding onto his wrist as you look for your crewmates. He’s so tired of this, of having people believe your marriage is real, and the thoughts that come with it every time someone brings it up.

Your annulment can’t come soon enough.

+!+

For all the time you’ve spent traveling and the people you’ve met, the strangers from Whiskey Peak were the weirdest ones. You should’ve expected something was up with how accepting they were of pirates, anything except them being Baroque Works members, so it was a shock when you found out that’s exactly what they were. You’ve only heard of the group once or twice from Zoro in the past, normally when you’d lost a bounty target by mere minutes due to their quick work.

So once you found that’s all that inhabited this place, you weren’t surprised to hear Zoro had already taken all of them down by the time you woken up from your nap on the Merry. You’d chosen to stay behind and watch your ship, your home, while the rest of your crew went to the island. You’d been woken up by their sudden return and new members on the ship in the form of Vivi and Karoo, who you’ve taken a quick liking to as you all make your way towards a place called Little Garden.

Although, you have noticed Sanji treating you differently from your other female crewmates. While he openly flirts and falls over himself for the two, when it comes to you, he’s much more subdued and less extravagant, still treating you with respect but in less of a romantic way, it’s more friendly than anything.

But you still feel nervous when you bring it up to him, hoping you haven’t done something to make him like you less since you really do want to be his friend.

“Hey, Sanji, can I talk to you?”

“Of course!” Sanji gives you a grin while you sit at the table, smiling back, as he dries his hands and comes over to stand in front of you. “How can I help the lovely lady today?”

“Why do you flirt with Nami and Vivi but not me?”

You almost instantly shut your mouth when you finish speaking, biting your tongue before groaning over how you just blurted your question out. Sanji doesn’t respond right away, tilting his head as he thinks about it, and you continue to fight the embarrassment you now feel over even bothering to ask. It was a stupid question, Sanji could flirt with whoever he wanted, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean you weren’t wanted, he just didn’t feel anything romantic towards you, that’s all, you reason.

It still hurts to think that though, you’re just making yourself more upset as you wait for Sanji to say anything.

“Well,” he scratches the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to word it in a way that won’t offend you, “I can’t rightfully flirt with a woman who’s heart is taken, can I?”

“…huh?”

That isn’t what you expected from Sanji, of all people. You expected him to apologize that you felt left out, fall at your feet because that’s what he does, groveling and begging tour forgiveness for not showing you the same attention as the other girls.

But this makes you feel better about it, really. You think it’s a testament to Sanji’s character, that he won’t go after someone who has feelings for another, even if you’ve yet to confirm to any of your other crewmates the feelings you have for Zoro.

“I’ve seen how you look at that mosshead of ours. I know you guys said your marriage isn’t meant to last forever, but you really like him, right?”

Nodding slightly, you smile a bit as Sanji continues to grin at you.

“He might piss me off, but if you like him, there’s something good there.”

“I could tell you how we met one day.”

“Sure, might help me understand why you like that shitty swordsman so much.”

Sanji’s constant nicknames for Zoro actually make you laugh, and he keeps up conversing with you as he does the dishes, allowing you to help him bring drinks around to everyone a few minutes later. You two talk and laugh on your way out of the kitchen, you don’t even notice how it’s caused Zoro to watch you again, or how his jaw clenches after you bring a drink to him with a smile, before following Sanji back into the kitchen.

Now seeing you with the damn cook was making chest ache, what the hell is happening?

All of this needs to stop already.

#zoro x reader #roranoa zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #fem!reader

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weemssapphic · 1 year

Note

Hi! I love your stories! Could you write a story about Larissa Weems and a University Student reader? Something 18+. They do the deed in an art museum restroom and the reader gets caught by their classmates because they still have lipstick stains on their neck. Thanks :3

hello! thank you for the compliment! 🥰 so very sorry that this has been rotting in my inbox for an obscenely long amount of time, my brain for some reason really did not want me to get this done 😣 i hope it's at least halfway decent to make up for that!

thank you to @afeatherformills for the beta-read <3

warnings/content: nsfw, age gap (reader is 18+), cunnilingus/fingering (reader receiving), praise kink, marking kink

words: ~3k

Lipstick Stains

next chapter | series page

“I’ll meet you guys back here soon okay?”

“Sure, just text us when you’re done,” Robin replied, threading her fingers through Christin’s and turning to lead her into an exhibit on modern art. Cassandra offered you a smile and trailed behind them, leaving you to your own devices.

You weaved your way through the throngs of tourists crowding at the entrance, all still deciding which way to go. You’d been here often enough to know the floor plan by heart, knowing which exhibits would be the most crowded on Saturdays. You also knew that your favorite exhibit would be deliciously empty, as almost no one wandered that far back into the museum.

You settled on a bench in front of an ancient Greek sculpture and pulled your sketchbook from your bag, thumbing through it until you found a blank page, and began to sketch, the world around you fading slowly until it was only static in the background.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” A low voice in your left ear made you jump, your stomach dropping as if you’d just hit the peak of a roller coaster, your heart skipping a beat. In your art-induced daze, you hadn’t even heard anyone else enter the exhibit.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You twisted in your seat to find the source of the interruption: a statuesque blonde towering over your shoulder. A smirk graced her crimson lips as your eyes raked over her shapely form, pausing for a moment on their upward journey at her hips before moving higher and, finally, making eye contact.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, clenching your fingers tightly around your pencil as you worked to get your racing heartbeat under control.

“Larissa,” the woman introduced herself and you noticed that she spoke in a lilting English accent. Her voice had a soothing quality to it, calming you almost instantly.

Larissa. A beautiful name for a beautiful stranger. You smiled at that, heart fluttering at the smile you received in return.

“Y/N.”

“Would you care for some company, Y/N?” Normally, you would say no to such a request, prioritizing your alone time over small talk with strangers. But something about her had you absolutely mesmerized and before you knew what you were doing, you were nodding and the woman was sitting down next to you. She was so close that you could smell her perfume - notes of jasmine and rose, floral and decidedly feminine.

“Keep working,” she encouraged, seeming to notice your hesitation as you watched her. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned reluctantly back to your sketch and traced along the paper. Now it was as if your entire body was prickling with electricity at this mysterious stranger’s presence, your nerves alive and burning.

You stole a glance to your left, marveling at how put-together she looked - silver curls done up in an elaborate updo, drawing attention to her long neck and the smooth planes of her rosy cheekbones, eyes the deepest shade of blue you’d ever seen, framed by mascara-coated lashes that brushed against her cheeks when she blinked, lips a bright shade of red, parted ever so slightly as she as she admired the statue you were sketching.

You wondered briefly if you should flip to a new page and start to sketch her when her eyes shifted over to you, trapping you in her gaze, and the world around you stilled. A heavy blush crept up your cheeks and you couldn’t take it anymore, dropping your gaze back to your sketchbook.

“I have to admit I was surprised to see someone else back here, it’s my favorite exhibit and it’s not often I run into anyone here.” Larissa crossed her legs as she spoke, long legs that seemed to stretch on for miles, and you had trouble tearing your eyes away from them.

“Then I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner, I come here a lot. I like it back here, it’s quiet.”

“You’re here alone?” There was an edge to the woman’s voice, something darker swimming in her eyes as she leaned towards you.

“Uh, sort of? My friends are off somewhere, I’m not meeting them until later.” You squinted slightly, trying to discern the woman’s intentions, but she leaned back again, a satisfied smile gracing her lips, any edge she’d previously had dissipating in an instant.

Somewhere between outlining the Greek statue and your conversation with Larissa, you realized you’d begun to sketch her instead, the silhouette of her body slowly taking shape under the tip of your pencil.

“What are you working on?” Larissa tilted her head towards yours, her breath warm on your cheek as she peered at your drawing. The sudden invasion of your space made your cheeks heat and your pulse skyrocket. Her perfume was overwhelming now, it filled your nostrils and clouded your senses, making you dizzy.

You hesitated for a moment - after all, this woman was just a stranger, and being caught sketching her could end up very embarrassing for you. Something about her curiosity and openness, and your intoxication by her sudden proximity, won out though, and you pushed your sketchbook over for her to see. “Just an assignment for class. I’m an art major,” you supplied.

Larissa traced a long, manicured finger over the sketch, humming her appreciation, the vibrations clinging to the air between the two of you. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Larissa murmured, lips pulling into a smirk as she raised her gaze to meet yours. You were a kid with your hand caught in the cookie jar, until -

A warm hand on your thigh.

A quirk of a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

It was as if your ears were ringing and the air around you was thick and all you could do was wonder if Larissa felt it too.

Larissa’s eyes darkened as she hovered over you, lips parting as she waited for you to close the distance, your faces mere inches apart. You hesitated only for a second before crashing your lips into hers, whining at how Larissa’s tongue swiped almost instantly at your lower lip. Your sketchbook and pencil clattered to the floor as Larissa’s hands came to your waist and pulled you towards her, shifting you onto her lap to straddle her thighs.

“Is this okay?” She murmured into your mouth between kisses, breath ghosting over your face.

“Yes,” you sighed, not caring that you sounded more than a little needy as you wrapped your arms around her neck, enjoying the feeling of her palms settling on your hips.

The kisses became hotter, more desperate, and you found yourself beginning to search for a bit of friction as you ground your pelvis onto Larissa’s thighs. She moaned into your mouth and dug the pads of her fingers into your hips, pushing you down onto her lap.

You found a steady rhythm, rolling your hips and getting decent friction from the seam of your jeans, but it wasn’t enough, and it soon left you growling in frustration as the coil behind your navel wound tighter and tighter but found no release.

Larissa let out a breathy chuckle and moved her lips to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe before whispering, “let me take care of that for you.”

She lifted you carefully off her lap and motioned for you to gather your things - of course you did as you were told, you couldn’t possibly refuse this woman - and then led you expertly down several hallways, avoiding crowds converging at different exhibits before stopping at the restrooms.

Larissa pulled you into one of the restrooms, swiftly locking the door behind you before latching her lips onto yours in a heated kiss and pushing you back into the sink. Larissa’s body pressed into yours, your hands pulling at her waist. Her tongue swiped at your lips, begging for entry, and you conceded, allowing her to explore the contours of your mouth. Her hands came up to thread themselves in your hair, tugging lightly as her fingernails scratched at your scalp.

She pressed a plethora of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, swirling her tongue along the skin there. As she got to your collarbone, she began to nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, then soothing her tongue over the little red mark. Her head dipped into your cleavage, nibbling at the soft flesh barely exposed above your shirt, eliciting a low whine from your throat.

Larissa pulled back at the sound, peering up at you. No one had ever looked at you with such unadulterated hunger before, and it unnerved you. Your heart thundered aggressively against your ribcage, so loudly you were sure she could hear it as well.

A fire had been started behind your navel and was radiating outward, setting your whole body ablaze.

“Larissa…” A wetness pooled between the apex of your thighs and you clenched them together.

“You look absolutely divine,” Larissa growled before her lips hungrily crashed back into yours. Her hands settled on your waist, tugging you closer, though they didn’t stay there for long before they began to wander. Her left hand came up to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze through the fabric of your shirt as her right hand wandered down to your jeans, her slender fingers tracing the button in question.

“May I?” She muttered against your lips, voice low and dripping with desire. You nodded into the kiss, your fingers coming to your pants to assist with the process.

With your jeans around your ankles, Larissa’s fingers grazed over your underwear and she let out a sinful moan at the wet patch she found there.

“All this for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet?” She looked at you with humor in her eyes, a smirk passing her lips as she began to kiss down your neck again, moving down your body and pulling your underwear down with her, allowing you to kick them off and to the side.

“Let me get a taste of you, darling, hmm? I bet you taste so good.”

Larissa swiped two fingers lightly through your folds, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the unexpected touch. She brought the digits to her mouth and slowly, obscenely swirled her tongue around them to taste your juices, moaning and gazing up at you through her eyelashes. You gulped audibly, trying to clench your thighs together to keep your arousal from dripping down your legs, but Larissa’s hands came to your knees to force your legs open.

“Ah-ah, let me see that pretty pussy of yours.” You blushed crimson at her words, trying to look away, but a hand on your arm made you look down. Larissa looked at you with such kind sincerity in her eyes. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, darling. You’re beautiful.” The words didn’t help with your blush, but you held her gaze this time and relished in her smile as she turned her attention back to the throbbing ache between your legs.

Heat pooled in your stomach as Larissa dragged her nails down your thighs, placing her tongue at your entrance and trailing it slowly towards your throbbing clit. Her tongue began to circle the sensitive nub and a pitiful whimper clawed its way out of your throat. You were so close already, your excitement beginning to trickle down the inside of your thighs.

Your cunt was aching, wanting - needing - more. You clutched at the sink behind you, white knuckled, pressing your hips forward, anything to get Larissa’s mouth closer, anything to get more.

Larissa hooked your calf over her shoulder to get a better angle, groaning as your pussy opened up for her. She placed her hands on your hips to hold you in place, her nails digging little half-moon crescents into the tender flesh there. Your entire body felt ablaze under her touch, you felt almost feverish as she flattened her tongue against your slit, lapping up the juices that flowed freely.

“Fuck - Larissa,” you groaned as you began to grind your hips into Larissa’s mouth, chest heaving.

One of Larissa’s hands left your hips and you gasped as cool fingers brushed against your center. The action only served to stoke the embers in the pit of your stomach and you moaned as a single digit sank into your hole halfway, pulled back out, then sank in again, further this time, slowly, all whilst her tongue ravished your clit.

A second finger soon followed and you met your hips in time with the thrusts of her fingers, unable to take your eyes off the goddess kneeling before you. A particularly loud moan fell from her lips and vibrated against your center, all but forcing you to slam your thighs shut around her head at the sensation.

“I-I’m s-so close,” you gasped, biting into your bottom lip to keep from crying out as Larissa picked up her pace inside of you, curling her fingers into the spongy spot that had you tensing up and seeing stars behind your eyes. Her tongue latched onto your clit, sucking feverishly as shockwaves began to rack your body.

“That’s it,” Larissa cooed, her lips brushing against the hood of your clit and causing your walls to clench around her fingers. “Be a good girl for me and come,” Larissa’s voice dropped several octaves as she dragged her fingers in and out of your cunt.

Maybe it was the “good girl” that did you in. Or maybe it was just the fact that Larissa was good, really, really good, at what she was doing. But come you did.

Your thrusts became more erratic as you rode Larissa’s face, reaching your high on her tongue as your world exploded around you, vulgar moans dripping from your lips. Larissa carried you through it, lapping up every drop of your essence that poured out of you, tongue flicking languidly at your clit to bring you gently back down to earth.

For a moment everything was still, your leg still hooked over Larissa’s shoulder as she held you in place. She pulled her fingers out of you, slowly and ever so gently, and you mewled at the loss of contact, which earned you a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Larissa cleaned you up with her tongue, taking her time to explore your inner thighs and your swollen sex. She peppered your mound with kisses, then the tender flesh of your belly, the swell of your breasts, your clavicle, your throat, your jaw - her lips hovered over yours for a moment before finally making contact, though this kiss was nothing like the rest. It was slow and sweet, tender even, and you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“You did so well for me,” she praised against your lips, her hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking the flushed skin there.

As you pulled on your now-ruined panties and your jeans, Larissa stood in front of the mirror, washing her hands, redoing her lipstick, and adjusting a few bobby pins that had come loose in her hair.

“Will I see you again?” you murmured hesitantly, a bit pathetically, half-hoping that maybe she’d spare you the embarrassment of rejection and would pretend she didn’t hear you.

To your surprise, she grinned and held her palm out to you. At your quizzical gaze, she chuckled and said “your phone.”

You quickly handed her your phone and she added herself as a contact, before handing you back said phone and moving to the restroom door.

“Now, I really must get back to work, but do call me sometime.”

Larissa paused, eyes raking hungrily over your body. They stopped for a moment at your neck and a dark smirk crossed her face, a low hum of approval leaving her throat.

You felt utterly exposed under her gaze, short of breath, thighs clenched together tightly with want. Your heart pounded in your chest at the nod Larissa gave you, cool, almost professional, and in an instant she was gone, the door closing behind her. You steadied yourself on the counter, avoiding your own gaze in the mirror as you caught your breath.

Maybe, if you had bothered to look at yourself in the mirror, you’d have seen the many lipstick stains down the column of your neck that had been left during your little rendezvous, no doubt the thing that had left Larissa smirking at you before leaving you high and dry.

Alright, breathe. You’ll just find your friends, they’ll never realize you were gone. You checked your phone, 5:54pm. Shit, almost time to go. Without sparing yourself another glance (wrong move), you tucked your hair behind your ear, slung your bag over your shoulder and ran out of the restroom and straight into Cassandra.

“Hey, what gives? We spent half the afternoon looking for you!” Her eyes narrowed accusingly, then traveled down your neck, widening comically as her jaw dropped.

“Y/N, what were you doing in there?!” She shrieked.

“W-what do you mean?” You stuttered, your beet-red face giving you away (as if the lipstick stains and blooming hickeys on your chest hadn’t already).

“You’re covered in lipstick,” Cassandra hissed, not caring that several tourists were looking curiously at the pair of you as they passed.

“I’m… I’m what?” You pulled out your phone, turning on the front camera to examine yourself and groaning when you saw the marks dotting the front of your neck and chest. “Larissa,” you whined.

“Who’s Larissa? She the one who gave you those hickeys?” Robin and Christin chose that moment to sneak up on the two of you, Robin slinging an arm around your shoulder and grinning down at you. Your blush extended to the tips of your ears and you swatted her arm away, huffing in embarrassment.

“So I say we order pizza tonight and Y/N tells us alllll about her afternoon with Larissa,” Christin teased.

You turned away from your friend’s laughter, looking distractedly across the main hall of the museum as you tried to cool your blush. A group of tourists passed the front desk and you looked past them, your gaze falling to a familiar tall blonde passing through the exit. Larissa looked up at that moment and your eyes locked from across the room. Red lips stretched into a devious smile, and just like that she ducked through the door, vanishing from sight.

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #it's actually embarrassing how long this took me #so so sorry but i hope it's decent #lipstick stains #lipstick stains series

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makeitmingi · 8 months

Text

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 48]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

Two weeks passed really quickly with you going into the studio early in the morning and coming back late at night, juggling multiple projects at one go. Sometimes, you would work from your home studio just to be around Mingi. But he too would occasionally go to his studio to work and write lyrics.

Today, Mingi told you he would be coming home late since he was meeting some old friends for dinner. Lucky for you though because or else he would ask where you currently were.

Which was the police station.

"Miss (y/l/n)?" The familiar face of the officer came out. You stood up, pulling your hood tighter around your head.

"Your phone call sounded urgent. What's the matter?" She invited you to take a seat in the private room. You sat down and she sat adjacent from you.

"I-I..." You couldn't even form the words to begin to explain to her what happened.

"It's okay, take your time." She smiled softly, speaking patiently. She reached out to put her hand over your shaky, clamy one.

"I got this... I-it was delivered to my house... M-My new house..." You took a thick envelope out from your hoodie pocket and slid it over to her. She cast you a confused look and was about to open it when you stopped her.

"It's... from the person." You gulped. She immediately withdrew her hands. Standing up, she went to a cabinet to grab a pair of gloves. She wore the white gloves and opened the envelope.

Your bottom lip quivered as she flipped through the photos. Photos of you coming in and out of the building, different Ateez members as well. And the threatening letter.

"W-What should I do? Is there nothing that can be done?" You asked, fear and panic in your voice.

"I'll submit this to the evidence box. We'll try to get fingerprints off it." She said, putting the photos back into the envelope.

"I'll look at the footage in the building vicinity. But this person is careful, never actually doing the deliveries themselves." She sighed, giving you a pitiful look.

"Please, I don't want your pity. I just need something done about this, anything. The packages that have been coming into KQ, have been getting from bad to worse. Even the security guards are getting freaked out by the contents of it." You begged with deperation laced in your voice.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). There's just not much I can go off on now. I wish there was more I can do." She rubbed your arm.

"It could be a group, it could be an individual. But we've seen cases like this before, those crazed fans are relentless." She said. Was that supposed to make you feel better?

"I can't keep moving houses or keeping myself cooped up in my apartment. This isn't going to go away." You wiped your tears.

"Yes, it's not fair to you." She passed you a tissue box.

"Officer Yoon, this isn't just some crazed fan. All evidence points to an inside job, this person is inside KQ. Isn't that something you can use to launch an investigation?" You asked.

"I promise to keep working to launch an investigation as soon as possible." Her empty promise wasn't enough.

"Actually, another thing I wanted to ask you about. I saw that there was another case filed. Against a Mr Lee Seyoon? For assault. Can you tell me more about what happened?" She asked, pulling up the file on her iPad.

"Yes. He assaulted me while we went overseas for a film project. The company knows about that." You replied.

"Do you have any suspicions at all that he may be connected to the person or people that are threatening you?" She cleared her throat. You shook your head.

"He was too obsessed with himself or the fact that I wouldn't submit to him. Then he wanted to unmask me. Nothing to do with my relationship or what the threats have been about." You informed.

"Have you told your partner about this yet?"

"No. I don't want to drag him into this. Especially since we haven't got anything to go off on." You hung your head.

Of course, it hurt you to admit that you were deliberately hiding this from Mingi. It hurt you to imagine how it would be like if he knew that you were hiding this from him. You knew that it would break him and break your relationship. But you couldn't tell him, knowing the guilt and remorse you would cause him to feel.

"You shouldn't bottle this up, (y/n). You should tell him what's going on." She adviced. It was easy for her to say. You stood up and bowed before walking out.

"(y/n), wait." She called out but you were already out of the police station. You kept your head low as you rode the cab back.

"Hwa?" You whimpered on the phone.

"Indigo? What's wrong? What happened?" Seonghwa's voice indicated the sudden panic he felt when he heard how broken your voice was.

"Are you busy? Can I see you, please?" You tried to keep it together in the back of the cab.

"Of course. I'm not busy, I'm in the dorm. Are you home?" You heard some movement and shuffling on the other side of the call.

"No but I will be home soon..." You said and hung up. When the cab pulled up in the driveway, you paid the driver and got out. You rushed into the lobby, now worried that someone was always watching you wherever you were going.

When the lift door opened, Seonghwa was waiting outside your front door with a worried frown on his face. You tried to hold it together as you unlocked the door and invited him in.

"Hwa..." The moment the door closed, you let out a choked sob and hugged him.

"It's okay, it's okay. I got you. I'm here." He said, wrapping his arms around you securely, rubbing your back.

"It's okay, little star. It's alright." He whispered. You lost feeling in your legs, causing the both of you to sink to the ground. He kept his secure grip on you.

"Are you hurt?" That was what Seonghwa was worried about the most but he didn't get to check you for any injuries. When he felt you shake your head against his chest, he let out a sigh of relief. At least you weren't hurt. But he still didn't press you to tell him what happened, he wanted you to calm down first.

Seonghwa moved you to the couch, closing his eyes as you heard his wrecked sobs against his shoulder. He lifted your face and wiped your face with a tissue.

"Oh, Indigo..." His heart hurt seeing how distraught you were and the fact that he didn't know how to help you.

"What happened? Tell me, hmm?" He coaxed, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I got these... these photos... They were sent here... To this address..." You said between sobs, continuing to wipe your tears with the ends of your sleeves.

"And this person...T-They... T-They threatened to hurt... A-All of you... Especially M-Mingi." You looked up at him with fearful eyes.

"Indigo." He hugged you again.

"We'll be okay, nothing will happen to us or Mingi." He assured. But you knew there wasn't a guarantee. Idols get hurt by crazy sasaengs all the time, there was never 100% guarantee of safety, no matter how many bodyguards or precautions there were.

"I don't care... If they hurt me... I'll take it... But I don't want them to hurt any of you... Oh God, I can't even imagine it." You heaved, feeling your stomach churn uncomfortably.

"No, don't say that. Don't think that. You think Mingi would want to see you hurt? Or any of us? Would I want to see you taking all this hurt on your own?" He frowned, holding your wrists in his hands.

"What should I do, Hwa?" You cried.

"What did the case officer say when you gave the photos and letter?" He asked, his tone soft and patient again.

"S-She said she'll try to p-push for an internal in-investigation. But that's all she can do now. T-There are no clues." Your breaths were shaky and wrecked.

"H-Hwa..." You gulped and looked back up at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he listened.

"T-There was something... That s-scared me... even more." You said.

"What's that?"

"There were pictures of Haneul." You told him. That was it, you burst into another round of sobs. Seonghwa reached over to gather you in his arms, as if trying to prevent you from falling apart even more but it was too late. He pressed his cheek to the top of your head as he rubbed your back to try and comfort you.

"I'm sorry, Indigo." That was all he could say. Seonghwa couldn't imagine the fear that you were feeling now. Haneul was your world, your treasure, your reason. Everyone knew that.

Now that a threat was directed at her, Seonghwa could only try to understand how you must feel so defeated and hopeless.

He couldn't even promise you that she would be safe. Because how could he make that promise? That nothing will happen to her when even he didn't know.

"Indigo, you should tell our CEO about this. He might know what to do or offer you some security protection until an investigation is launched." He said.

"I will... I informed Eden earlier..." You nodded glumly.

"Also, I know you don't want to but you should tell Mingi and Hongjoong at least. Hongjoong has more brains than me when it comes to giving advise like this." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"No... Hwa. You and Jongho have been helping me so much... Mingi's going to think that this is his fault, that he caused this to happen... He just finished his home leave after the incident, I don't want something similar to happen again." You shook your head.

"Alright, alright. You don't worry about that for now." He placed a hand on your head then tucked you under his arm.

You fell asleep like that, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Seonghwa only managed to move you so that you laid your head in his lap. He couldn't bear to leave you alone.

"Baby, I'm ho- Hyung?" Mingi stood there, shocked.

"Shh." Seonghwa put a finger to his lips to shush the taller male. Mingi blinked, wondering if he drank too much and was hallucinating. He only had two drinks.

"What are you doing here?" Mingi whispered, seeing how the older naturally stroked your hair like you were a cat.

"I came down to accompany her. We watched a movie and she fell asleep." He lied smoothly.

"I'm glad she wasn't alone then." Mingi bent down in front of you. His hand must have been cold because when it made contact with your cheek, you shivered in your sleep. He couldn't help but smile softly and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. That was when he noticed how puffy your eyes were.

"Did she cry?" He looked up at the older, eyebrows furrowing in worry as he caressed your cheek.

"She insisted on watching a sad movie..." Seonghwa acted exasperated, shaking his head to make it more convincing.

"Typical. Shall I move her to the room? Then you can go upstairs and sleep in your bed more comfortably." Mingi offered. To be honest, he wished you were sleeping in his lap now.

"Be careful." Seonghwa cautioned. He knew you would want comfort from Mingi now, even asleep.

"I will." Mingi carefully slipped his arms under you and lifted you up. Seonghwa trailed behind, watching Mingi lay you on the bed.

"Mings...?" You stirred, opening your eyes slightly.

"Hey, baby. Go back to sleep, hmm?" Mingi cooed, stroking your hair to coax you back to sleep. You leaned into his touch and fell back asleep. He tucked you in and walked out to see Seonghwa standing there, ready to head back.

"Thanks for accompanying her, hyung. I'll see you tomorrow?" Mingi bowed his head. Seonghwa nodded, offering a small smile and a pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Standing outside the closed door, Seonghwa let out a small sigh. Although he was concerned about leaving you, he couldn't do anything that would rouse Mingi's suspicion so he had to act and lie.

"Sorry, Mingi ah." He was riddled with guilt for lying to Mingi when he knew it wasn't right.

Meanwhile, Mingi went to take a quick shower and joined you in bed. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him.

"I love you." He kissed the top of your head.

You left the house before Mingi woke up. You were not able to face him after what you went through yesterday, a part of you scared you might cry if he spoke to you.

"You can't avoid him forever, can't you?" You sighed to yourself, resting your head against your hand as you stared blankly at the screen in front of you. Since you came in, you haven't been able to get any work done. There was just too much going on now in your head now to do work.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming." You pushed yourself to stand up, already knowing who was here. You opened the door to let Eden in while you walked to your desk to get your phone and coffee glass.

"What is that?" Eden asked as the odd coloured liquid you were drinking. It definitely wasn't just coffee.

"Coffee, energy drink and ginseng extract." You replied.

"Okay now I may not be a nutritionist or doctor but I know that can't be healthy." Eden took the glass from your hand and placed it back down on the coffee table.

"Just thought it would help me focus a little." You ran a hand through your hair, wearing your beanie.

"It'll be okay, Indigo. I'm glad you're doing this." He smiled softly. You nodded your head, not really saying anything. Was everything really going to be okay? Was this really the best option for you now? Your head was muddled with different thoughts.

"Let's go." That was all you could say. Eden nodded and walked out of your studio with you. While you took the lift up together, you closed your eyes for a brief second and took a deep breath.

"You can lower your mask to take a few breaths, I'll face the other way." Eden offered.

"It's fine." You shook your head. When the doors opened and you stepped out, you gulped. You looked at the all the offices.

"It's this way." Eden guided you. You wordlessly and thoughtlessly followed him. As you stopped in front of the door, Eden knocked and opened it.

"Indigo, Eden. Come in." The male stood up from his desk.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet me, I mean, us, on such short notice CEO Kim." You bowed as you walked in. Eden walked behind you and closed the door once the both of you were in. The suited male nodded with an understanding smile. He gestured for you and Eden to take a seat opposite him.

"So, what can I do for you?" CEO Kim leaned on his hands. From a expectant tone of his voice, you knew that he was hoping you were here to tell him that you would be staying on with KQ.

"It's not good news, I'm afraid." You said, setting his expectation. He hummed, nodding his head.

"Go on." He encouraged nonethless.

"I... There's no nice way to say this... So I'll just come out and say it." You gulped. You watched as his eyebrows raised slightly in interest as he leaned back in his chair.

"I've been in a relationship with Mingi for a few months now." You winced as you said it.

"I see..." Was all he said, his face void of any emotion.

"My deepest apologies, sir. For causing this much trouble. I'll take full responsibility on this, not Mingi." You stood up and formally bowed to him. He sighed.

"You're apologising for being in a relationship?" He asked. You were stunned by his question. Of anything and everything that he could ask, you were not expecting that. You thought he would tear your contract to shreds right in front of you.

"N-No, of course not. I love Mingi, I still do, with all my heart. I don't think I've ever loved someone like that before." You said firmly.

"Then? Yes, it is minorly inconvenient but the boys don't have a dating ban. It's been announced since Day 1 so I don't exactly see the issue here." He cleared his throat.

"That's not the issue per say, Mr Kim. Actually, Indigo's been getting harrassed by someone." Eden spoke.

You were still reeling from the shock of the CEO's reaction to you telling him that you were dating Mingi. Wa he truly okay with it?

"Harrassed? By fans?" That made him frown.

"No... I've been receiving threats. It started with harmless emails and server messages but I was followed home, I've received threatening packages and letters here. And yesterday, photos were sent to my new apartment. Photos of me, the Ateez boys and the child under my care." You nearly cracked at the last part.

"Alright, I see that that's an issue. Well, have you and Mingi been seen in public alone? Or gone on dates outside? Anywhere fans could have spotted you two?" He asked.

"No, sir. We're really careful." You said.

"The police have been informed, Mr Kim. The reason why we're bringing this up to you and not the legal team is that there's suspicions of this being an inside job." Eden informed.

"Wait, someone who works here is the culprit? A KQ employee?" CEO Kim was in shock and disbelief.

"Everyone hired goes through a rigorous screening process, Eden. Accusing a KQ employee is a big claim." He cautioned.

"We know. But evidence points to it. The only other place where people might have seen Mingi and Indigo together is here at the office." Eden reasoned.

"And this person knows I moved. The only people who have access to my new address would be someone with access to internal data since the KQ team was the one who found my new apartment for me." You added.

"Who else knows about this? Mingi, I'm assuming. And Hongjoong, given your close relationship with him." CEO Kim asked.

"They don't know. I haven't been able to tell them. Besides Eden, Jongho and Seonghwa know. Jongho guessed and Seonghwa saw one of the threatening emails." You told him.

"I see. Good that the news doesn't spread then. The media might catch wind of it." He thought out loud.

"Say that it is someone internal, what's the next course of action then?" CEO Kim asked.

"With enough evidence, the police want to launch an internal investigation." You chewed on your bottom lip. He nodded his head, knowing he would have to agree to the internal investigation.

"I'm not trying to scare you but I have to be honest with you. This can become very bad, very quickly if word gets out, which we all know it will. The media will have a field day spinning stories and tearing the company to shreds. And that also means your identity might also be leaked, Indigo." He sighed.

"I am aware. This could also cause the boys' comeback to be pushed back. Therefore, I've spoken with Eden. And the best option would be to leave KQ." You said, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Series Masterlist

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jessicaloons · 2 months

Text

Chapter 40:

And some things you just can’t speak about…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

TW: Miscarriage

Charles POV:

I felt my phone vibrate for the third time, while trying to focus on the questions, wondering what was going on. As soon as Tom Clarkson ended the press conference I stormed outside, taking my phone out. Multiple missed calls from JK. I called him back immediately, a sickening feeling in my stomach.

"What’s going on, JK?" I asked when he picked up.

"Lizzie ran away." JK answered and I was confused.

"What do you mean, Lizzie ran away? Where are you?" I asked, panic starting to overcome me.

"I don’t know what happened. She ran off in the middle of her interview. She’s gone. All of her stuff is still here. But she’s gone. And she’s not picking up her phone either!"

"I’m coming to you…"

"I’m already here…" JK stood in front of me all of a sudden.

"But… she wouldn’t just leave?"

"Julie said that she said 'Fuck this shit. I’m done.' and then left. She’s not at her garage or hospitality. All her stuff was still there, but she’s gone."

"Why did she run away? She wouldn’t just say fuck it and leave for no reason?"

"She was in the middle of an interview and then she left…"

"I bet my ass it was a Spanish outlet." I said and JK nodded "I should’ve said something. Set the record straight. Fuck."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She didn’t just punch Sainz for no reason, who does that anyways? He said that I should learn how to tame my bitch." I grit out and he looked at me with big eyes and a look of pure disgust on his face.

"Asshole."

"I know… but now I need to find her!"

"Try your hotel. I think that’s the best option then." he suggested.

"Yeah… but what if…" I began.

"Don’t think like that. Go. Look for her. Call me when you’re there. If Lizzie is there, good. If not, we’ll go and find her!" JK patted my back and handed me Lizzie’s bag.

"I go and grab my stuff now, then I go to our hotel. Thanks JK, really!" I sprinted back to the Ferrari hospitality, Mia already awaiting me "Whatever it is, it has to wait, there’s an emergency."

"What happened?" Mia asked alarmed.

"Lizzie ran away… she’s gone. No one knows where she is… I need to find her." I already walked up the stairs, just grabbing my things and ready to leave when Silvia’s voice called out for Mia.

"Mia? Is Charles back from the press conference? He and Carlos need to film a video."

"Charles just left…" Mia began but got interrupted immediately.

"He left? He can’t just leave? Call him! He has to come back!" I rolled my eyes at her shrill voice.

"You don’t want him to come back, Silvia. He threw up. Twice. I’m just glad that he was thinking fast enough to hide behind a container. Just imagine if someone would’ve filmed that!" Mia lied.

"True. That would be something we don’t need right now, one of our drivers vomiting in the paddock." Silvia sighed "Alright, then I go and look for Carlos. You check in on Charles."

"I will." Mia said and walked up the stairs "Alright. Go out through the back door, no one will see you there! And text me when you’ve found Lizzie. Or if you need help finding her!"

"Thank you Mia!" I hugged her and then left through the back door like she said. I made it out of the paddock and back to the hotel without being seen by anyone. I almost sprinted out of the elevator, through the door of our hotel room.

There she sat. On the sofa. Knees hugged tight to her chest. Eyes closed. Quietly humming. Relieve flooding me, although the way she sat there, looking so small, almost made my heart break. I carefully approached her, gently touched her knee and she flinched a little, looking up.

"Hey." she whispered as I sat down next to her.

"Hey." I replied cupping her tear stained cheek "What happened?"

"It’s ridiculous. I overreacted." she mumbled but I shook my head.

"I don’t think so… it was the Spanish media. They are coming after you because you dared to touch their hero Sainz senior." I said and she chuckled bitterly.

"Yeah. But you know, without proof what he said? No one will believe me. And they won’t believe your words, because of course you would lie for me…"

"I’ll find a solution. I promise you…"

"No! You can’t do anything Charles! I don’t want you to lose your seat because of this!" she almost cried and I pulled her into my lap, leaning back.

"I won’t, trust me! I already have an idea and if it works they all see what a disgusting man he is…" I whispered and she nodded slowly.

"I want this season to be over." Lizzie sighed after a while and I kissed the crown of her head.

"Yeah… me too. It’s one to forget, to be honest. But we have to put on a brave face and show everyone who doubts us that we’re better than them, okay? Better than all of them!" I smiled encouraging at her and she nodded slowly.

"Yeah… and we’re starting out with you on pole and me right behind!"

"Hell yes."

"Charles? A word?" Mattia said right as I wanted to grab my helmet.

"What’s up?" I asked, taking a sip out of my bottle.

"I need you to stick to our plan today. You can’t get your feelings for Lizzie get the better of you. You have to defend Carlos. He made it on pole! Keep Lizzie out of his range…" he said and I rolled my eyes "I’m serious Charles!"

"Whose idea was it to start on the softs? To be able to fully attack? Right. Mine. Who said that getting in front of Lizzie at the start is the most important thing to do to help Carlos? Right. Me. I know what I have to do. No need to remind me…" I said grabbing my helmet, wanting to leave.

"I just wanted to make sure that we’re still on the same page."

"Yeah. We are. Can I go now? Thanks." I brushed past him.

"What was that about?" Andrea asked when he took my helmet from me.

"He wanted to remind me to stick to MY plan…" I sighed and Andrea rolled his eyes.

"Your plan to help Carlos win… because he can’t do it alone…" he said under his breath and I chuckled a little.

"Andrea." I chided.

"I didn’t say anything…" he grinned, following me out to my car "But if I did… it would be the truth."

"Lizzie rubs off on you." I chuckled.

"Maybe. But it’s just for the best I think." he shrugged his shoulders and I nodded.

"Yeah, it really is. Let’s go now, let’s help Carlos win this race." I sighed while Andrea rolled his eyes.

"Yay. Sounds fun… not."

"It’s scary how similar you and Lizzie are getting."

"As long as you won’t kiss me, it’s good."

"We'll see about that."

The race was long. Exhausting. After half the distance my fingers began to hurt, but I powered through. After fighting with Charles for multiple laps I finally was able to leave him behind, knowing that he sacrificed his race for Sainz. Now I had to fully focus on him in front. I wouldn’t let him take home this win. He would stay winless after today. I pushed as hard as I could and managed to finally overtake him and create a little gap between us. But he was quick to recover and the next few laps were a tight battle, with me staying in front but not with much.

"Do I have anything left?"

"Negative."

"Fuck. My tires are gone as well."

"Just keep pushing. 5 more laps to go."

I tried. I gave my all. My car was going around the corners with barely an inch between the walls at some parts of the track. My tires were more than gone. And when Pete finally said that it was the final lap I felt relieve flood me. One last lap. But Sainz came closer and closer with each turn. Right as I drove into turn 16 I saw him, closer as ever and I pushed hard. Through turn 17. Straight down into turn 18 and I was still slightly ahead when all of a sudden I lost all control, felt the strong pulling of the g forces in my bones, spun around and crashed right into the wall before the final corner. The impact raged like a tidal wave through my body. My mind buzzing. I was out of the race.

"Are you okay? Lizzie?"

I couldn’t answer. Hands trembling. Arms felt heavy. Neck and shoulders tense. A dull pain in the pit of my stomach, a weird pulling.

"Lizzie?"

I saw marshals approaching. A searing pain shot through my hand. When I tried to unbuckle myself. Of course. My already injured hand had to bitch now even more.

"Lizzie? Are you okay?"

"Did that really happen? Did he really…?"

Radio silence. I knew what that meant. Sainz did in fact drive straight into me. Sent me off track. Won the race.

"You have to wait for the medical car." one of the marshals said but I shook my head and climbed over the wall.

"No, I don’t." I replied, out of breath. The heat. The exhaustion. The impact still in my bones. The pain in my fingers. The abdominal pain, getting worse with every step. It all was too much and I felt myself swaying. I grabbed onto the wall to steady myself and took a deep breath. Then I almost jogged towards the pit lane. Saw how the cars passed me after their out lap, returning to the pit lane as well. I had to be there before Charles got out of his car. I knew that he saw what happened. It was still on replay on all the screens. He would be seething. He would be going straight for Sainz, cameras or not. Another Marshall saw me struggling and held me upright.

"You should go to the medical centre." he suggested but I shook my head.

"I can’t. I have to go to the pits." I breathed heavily and continued "I’m fine. Really!" he let go of me reluctantly and I felt his look on me for a while. I saw how Charles parked his car and knew I had to be faster. I clenched my teeth and kept going. Right as I felt like I would faint I dropped my helmet and someone was catching me from falling.

Charles POV:

The car wasn’t even properly parked, the engine not even switched off when I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw the headrest away. Climbed out. Threw the steering wheel back in. My helmet followed. Then I looked around. Saw how Carlos jumped into the open arms of our mechanics. Saw them cheering. Celebrating. Singing. My blood began to boil. Pure rage surging through my veins. I wanted to break his bones. Every. Single. One. I stalked towards the scene when someone stopped me.

"Wrong way." Pierre held me back.

"Get out of my way."

"Charles, not here. Not for everyone to see."

"Look at him! Look at them! Look how they celebrate!" I screamed and some heads were turning our way.

"I know but…"

"You know nothing! It’s my girlfriend he sent straight into a wall! On purpose! He probably didn’t even ask if she’s okay!" more and more people where looking at us. Some guys from my team as well, all looking conflicted. Pierre still held me back "Let go of me."

"No." he pushed me away from my destination "I won’t let you do…"

"I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU…" I began to scream when I heard a weak voice calling out for me.

"Charles…" Lizzie.

I turned around. My heart dropped. She clung to Alex, who held her upright. She was pale and sweaty. Body shaking. Her helmet on the ground, visor cracked. I ran up to her. Pulled her into me.

"Are you okay, cara mia?" I whispered and she nodded slowly.

"I’m okay. A little exhausted… I honestly didn’t think that the way would be that far. My cardio sucks." she chuckled breathlessly but I pulled away, cupping her cheeks.

"Why didn’t you wait for the medical car? Why aren’t you on the way to the medical centre?" I looked at her.

"Take a good guess…"

"Cara mia…" I began but she shook her head.

"No! You say nothing! You stay calm!" her voice was firm although I could see how hard it was for her to just stand "Please Charles, don’t do anything stupid!" she almost pleaded.

"Okay, I won’t. I promise! But can I please take you to the medical centre?" now I was the one pleading.

"I think you should first go and congratulate your team and team ma-…" she began but I scoffed.

"Congratulate them? For what? He sent you straight into a wall! He needs to be penalised…" I seethed and took her helmet that Alex handed me "Thanks mate, for helping Lizzie…"

"No worries, just get her to see a doc, she almost fainted twice on her way here." Alex said and gently patted Lizzie’s arm.

"Thanks Albono!" Lizzie smiled at him, but I could clearly see her exhaustion.

"Come on, pretty girl, let’s get you to the medical centre." I whispered following Pierre, who took my helmet out of my car, to our weighing.

I waited outside the hospital room, mind reeling. When the doctor at the track said they had to take Lizzie to the hospital I expected the worst. My heart was racing. The minutes I had to wait felt like hours when finally a nurse opened the door and let me in. Lizzie was pale but she didn’t look like she was seriously injured, but the look on the doctor’s face as he told me to wait until she would wake up made me feel uneasy. I looked around, there was a big plastic bag with her racing suit and fireproof on the chair in the corner and when I looked closer I saw something red staining the bag. I didn’t need to look again. I swallowed hard. Blood. But where did it come from? Was there something I didn’t see? Was this the reason the doctor rushed her to the hospital? Breathing got harder and I tried to calm myself down, right when Lizzie opened her eyes, frantically searching the room until they found mine and she visible relaxed.

"Hey cara mia. How are you feeling?" I asked, voice trembling a little, drawing circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. She sat up a little and smiled lightly.

"I’m okay, Charles!" she said and smoothed down my ruffled hair a little, the result of my anxiety over the past hour "What happened? We were at weighing and then all is kinda blurry?"

"You fainted-…" I began when the door opened and a doctor came in.

"Hi Lizzie, how are we feeling?" he asked and Lizzie shrugged a little.

"I’m okay. A little tired. Nothing bad going on." she answered and yawned quietly.

"Were you feeling unwell before today?" the doctor asked and Lizzie shook her head.

"You felt sick for weeks, Lizzie!" I said sternly and Lizzie just sighed.

"It was a stomach bug. That’s it." she said and the doctor shook his head slightly.

"For weeks? And sometimes it was more, sometimes less?" Charles looked at the doctor.

"I see… Lizzie there is something that we need to talk about…" he began and looked at me for a moment.

"Whatever it is, you can say it in front of him, it’s fine." she said and he nodded.

"I’m sorry to inform you, but due to the high forces in the car when crashing into the wall, you had a miscarriage…" the doctor said and I could hear Lizzie inhaling sharply "We’d say you weren’t that far along maybe 8th to 9th week if we’re correct?"

I looked at Lizzie, shocked expression on her face. She was pregnant? We were having a baby?

"Miscarriage? I was… I was pregnant?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"You didn’t know?” the doctor asked and she shook her head slightly, then closed her eyes and pulled her hand out of my grasp and put it in her lap, fiddling with her cuticles as always when she was nervous or anxiety ridden "I’m sorry to be the bearer of this sad news. We’d like to have you over for the night to make sure you’re all good and then you can leave tomorrow."

With that he left and Lizzie sobbed quietly, tears streaming down her face, she pulled her knees up to her chest, hissing in pain but hugged them close, her head turned away from me.

"Mon amour? Lizzie? Hey! Look at me!" I whispered and sat next to her in the bed and tried to make her look at me.

"I’m sorry Charles! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I would never get in the car if I knew that I was pregnant! I would never… I’m so sorry!" she cried and I pulled her in my lap, hugging her tight "I lost our baby, Charles! I’m so sorry!"

"Stop apologising! It’s not your fault! You don’t have to be sorry for anything! Do you hear me?" I said but she was shaking and whispering how sorry she was over and over.

"Please don’t hate me for losing our baby!" she whispered after a while and my heart broke.

"Enough! You hear me, cara mia? It’s enough! Stop apologising for something that wasn’t your fault! Stop feeling guilty for something you didn’t know! Stop blaming yourself! It wasn’t your fault. And please stop thinking that I could ever hate you! I love you, Lizzie! You hear me? I. LOVE. YOU!" I said and held her close, kissed her temple, forehead, cheeks again and again "It’s okay! We’re going to be ok? Alright? Stop apologising, Lizzie! Please!"

She nodded slightly but I could hear her soft sobs for quite some time, before she finally fell asleep and just then I allowed myself to feel the same devastation. We were having a baby. I would’ve become a dad. And my beautiful Lizzie would’ve become a mum. But not anymore. And she blamed herself for it. Thought I could hate her. Her out of all people. I kissed her on the crown of her head.

"I love you, Lizzie and there’s nothing you could ever do to change that. One day you and I will have a baby and it’s going to be one of the most beautiful days of our life’s!" I whispered and after some time I fell asleep myself.

I woke up when I heard someone talk loudly in Italian in the hallway and sat up, careful not to wake up Lizzie. I got out of the bed and stretched a little before I opened the door.

"…he can’t just disappear like that!" Mattia said to Andrea who scoffed.

"What did you expect? That he would celebrate while his girlfriend fainted multiple times and has to stay at the medical centre? After crashing out? Because someone sent her straight into the wall?" he replied and Mattia rolled his eyes.

"It was a racing incident. She didn’t leave enough spa-…" Mattia began.

"Bullshit. Lizzie had the corner and he didn’t leave her enough space! And instead of backing down he drove straight into her!" I said loudly and they both turned around.

"Charles, that is not what was happening!" Mattia said "They were close the whole last lap and at this corner she should’ve left him more space."

"Why? That he can overtake her? Who does that? Who? She was in front. She had the corner. So he did the only thing he could do, he touched her, made her crash out. In the last corner." I had to suppress my anger.

"Yes, they made contact. And Carlos got a penalty. For causing a collision. The FIA dealed with it. It’s all good now…"

"It’s all good now? IT’S ALL GOOD NOW? Lizzie! She had a mi-… no. Nothing is all good now!" I almost screamed, Andrea putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Look, I’m sorry Lizzie has to be here. But as Carlos teammate I expected you to congratulate him. I expected you to celebrate with the team. It was important. It was his first win after all! He ended the domination of Red Bull. But you left without a word. You weren’t at any interview. You’ll be fined and we won’t pay for it. That is on you. But you’re going to be at the race debrief. I won’t tolerate your absence." Mattia turned around and left, without giving me the chance to say a word.

"How is she?" Andrea asked me and I felt my throat closing in. I shook my head, trying to get a word out but couldn’t. The weight of the news still heavy in my stomach.

"She’s umm- she’s okay. Under the circumstances… I mean… yeah- she… she’ll be okay." I stammered and Andrea nodded, sensing how bad I felt.

"What happened? Come on. You can tell me. It’s okay." Andrea lead me to a seating area and sat down, I did the same and leaned back, closing my eyes.

"Andrea… Lizzie- she was… we would’ve become- she lost our baby…" I whispered the last part and Andreas eyes widened in horror "She didn’t knew that she was pregnant. But the high g-forces when she crashed into that wall? It was too much. The baby… it couldn’t survive it… Lizzie had a miscarriage."

"I’m going to kill him. He stood there, celebrated like he was a king. Celebrated like he won this race through his own brilliance when it was you who defended him for such a long time to create a big, fat gap. Ferrari wanted you to sacrifice your entire race to help him win. And you did and he… he only won by pushing Lizzie off… and then he didn’t even mention you once. He didn’t acknowledge your involvement. He didn’t thank you. Nothing! Mattia didn’t as well! They didn’t mention Lizzie at all! Not saying that they were hoping she’d be fine! Nothing!" Andrea was furious and I hid my face in my hands, arms on my knees.

"I’m not leaving her alone. I don’t care about the race debrief or what Mattia will do. I don’t care about it all anymore." I whispered.

"You’re going to that race debrief and you show them all that no matter what they throw your way, you overcome it all!" Lizzie’s weak voice behind me made me flinch and I turned around.

There she stood, pale, swollen eyes, tired, in her hospital gown. Looking nothing but determined.

"Lizzie! You should stay in bed!" I got up but she took a step back, holding up her hand to stop me "Cara mia…"

"No. You go. Both of you. Carlos won today. We can’t change that. He got a penalty but still won. It’s like this. But you don’t give him, his family, Mattia or anyone else the satisfaction that you can’t handle it or something. No. You go to that debrief. You put on a smile. You congratulate him. You be the bigger person. You show your honour. And from then on you show them who you are. You do the talking on track. You destroy him. In every single race to come. You finish ahead of him at the end of the season." Lizzie sounded determined and I looked at her. She was the strongest person I’ve ever known. I nodded slowly and took a cautious step towards her and she took one towards me as well. Two more steps and I engulfed her in a tight embrace.

"I love you, cara mia. So so much!" I whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek.

"I love you too, Il predestinato! Go and show them who’s the best driver!" she replied and I looked her in the eyes for a moment before I leaned in for a kiss. Her warm lips brushed against mine and for a moment I forgot everything around us "Go now. I’m fine. JK and Julie will stop by later with some fresh clothes. I won’t be alone."

"Are you sure?" I asked her and she nodded "Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can!" I kissed her once again. I stepped aside and Andrea hugged Lizzie.

"Mia ragazza… I’m so sorry." he whispered and Lizzie nodded a little "I make sure that Charles won’t do anything stupid… don’t worry!"

"Thank you, Andrea." Lizzie breathed out.

"You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met." Andrea said when he pulled away, kissing her cheek "Let’s go." he looked at me and I nodded, watching Lizzie returning back to her room, climbing into the bed.

"Let’s make this quick."

I walked inside. The trophy sitting int the middle of the table. Mattia and Carlos talking with his father and cousin, Riccardo, his race engineer right next to them. A whole bunch of our team still with a big smile on their face, talking animatedly about the race. I sat wordlessly down, at the end of the table, not making a sound and waited for the debrief to start. Alessandro, Callo and Mario came up to me, patting my shoulder and I looked up.

"Hey, how’s Lizzie?" Alessandro asked and I forced myself to smile a little.

"She’s okay. Not great, sure, but she’ll be fine." I replied and they both nodded, smiling.

"That’s good. Really good." Mario said, right as Andrea walked in and sat down next to me, handing me a bottle of water.

"Charles? Hey… how’s Lizzie? I heard she’s in the hospital?" Fabrizio asked, sitting down next to me.

"Yeah, they had to make some more tests, it wasn’t just a little bump after all. But she’s okay." I said again, feeling the bile rise up my throat.

"Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad to hear that." he gently patted my arm and I nodded.

"Yeah, it is." I pressed out, gulping down some water, while Andrea nudged my thigh a little, smiling at me.

"Alright everyone. There’s not much to debrief tonight. We had a fantastic weekend with the best possible result. Tyre degradation was working in our favour this weekend, but it’s still one of our main problems. Also the reliability of some components. But we know now that Red Bull is beatable. It was a tough battle, but in the end we can all celebrate Carlos’ first win now!" Mattia said and I looked first at him, then at Carlos. Big smile on his face. His father and cousin smiling at him looking all proud, his mechanics cheering, beer bottles getting passed along. Everyone started to chat. And I sat there. Looking at Mattia. Laughing and joking with Sainz senior. I felt anger rising up. This was the important debrief I had to attend. The debrief that made me leave Lizzie behind. Alone. No.

"That’s it?" I asked loudly and the room fell silent "That’s the race debrief? That’s all you have to say?"

"What else is there to say?" Mattia looked at me as I got up.

"This is why I left my girlfriend alone in the hospital after someone sent her straight into a wall?" my voice was trembling with anger but he didn’t say anything.

"Charles…" Andrea began but I shook my head, walking towards the door where Mattia stood with Carlos, his father and cousin.

"Congratulations Carlos. Congratulations Matti, it looks like you finally got your long awaited Santander win." I said, then I walked out, Andrea following me.

"Hey my pretty girl, how are you?" Charles asked when he walked inside and I shrugged my shoulders a little.

"I don’t know. It’s weird… I didn’t know that I was pregnant… I just-…" I stopped. Looking at my hands. Not sure what to say and what to feel.

"Lizzie? Hey… it’s okay. Whatever you feel is okay. You can talk to me. Or not. Whatever you need now… just don’t push me away entirely, okay?" Charles took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles, smiling at me "We’re in this together. You and me. Okay?"

"When we talked about us having kids… I didn’t thought about the when… one day sure… but now? I don’t think I would’ve been ready… it would’ve meant giving up my career? Everything I fought so hard for? It’s selfish to think like that… I know… but- but I think I’m relieved that I lost it? I’m a horrible person for thinking that way, I know! But it’s just… I don’t know… I’m sorry." I whispered, not able to look at him, knowing that he would be shocked and hurt by my words.

"Can you please look at me?" he asked me gently and I looked up "It’s not selfish to want this chance, this opportunity not to end. I know how hard it was for you to make it into Formula 1. I know the blood, sweat and tears you invested. And it doesn’t make you a horrible person… because last night? I saw how sorry you were. And how much it hurt you… you don’t have to feel sorry, okay?"

"It’s just so weird. Because although I’m relieved… I’m also sad? This little bean? That was us. You and I. And it was in me. It was a part of me, unknowingly, but still. And now it’s gone. And I’m not sure if I’m even allowed to feel sad? Because I didn’t want it in the first place?" Charles wiped away my tears and leaned his forehead against mine.

"You can feel every way you want to… you can be sad. Mad. Frustrated. Confused. Relieved. It’s okay. It’s a lot to process. But at the end of the day, it’s only important that you know that it’s all going to be okay. I’m with you. Always. And the next time a little bean is growing in your belly? Maybe then is the time for us to be happy. To be excited. But we have time. As much time as you need." he whispered and I nodded slowly.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Always find the right words? Always know what to say? Always know what to do? How are you so perfect?" I smiled and he chuckled.

"It’s easy. I do it for you. And you’re perfect. You deserve only the best. That means that I have to be the best. So I’m trying my best…"

"You’re succeeding."

Charles POV:

I left Lizzie’s room when her doctor and a nurse came to do some final tests. I took the elevator downstairs. The silence in the confined room was deafening. Lizzie’s words still echoing in my mind. She felt relieved. Relieved that she lost our baby. Our baby. I took a deep breath. The bell signalling the doors opening. I looked up when a nurse wheeled in a young woman, baby in her arms. I swallowed hard, stepping aside. I watched the young mother gently stroking the cheek of her newborn. Kissing the baby’s forehead. A void inside of me opening. A cold numbness overcoming me. I didn’t know how to feel. Sad? Mad? Relieved? Confused? Frustrated? Overwhelmed? From everything a little? I flinched when the baby started to cry. I watched how the young mother cradled her little bundle of joy closer to her chest, softly cooing, trying to calm down her most prized possession. I stepped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened and just started walking, no idea where I would go.

I found a quiet seating area and sat down. My mind reeling. I had no right to be mad at Lizzie. It was her body. Her choice. She would have to end her career. Not me. She would be the one carrying the baby for the next nine months. Not me. I understood her. Of course I did. But still. The thought of this tiny little bean. This tiny little something. A mix of us. Something we created through our love. To hear that she felt relieved that it was gone hurt for some reason. Like hell. After a while I checked the time, realising that I was sitting there for almost 20 minutes and got up, went back to Lizzie’s room. Putting on a brave smile. A reassuring one. I had to be strong now. And supportive. What happened didn’t happen to me, but to Lizzie. And I had to be strong now. For her.

"The cramping usually stops within a day, maybe two. You can take painkillers. It’s normal that there might be some light bleeding or spotting for the next 4 to 6 weeks. You should see your ob-gyn in around two weeks and they may do an ultrasound exam or other tests to make sure all the tissue has passed. Also no heavy lifting. And no sexual intercourse for the next one, better two weeks…" the nurse said and Lizzie nodded.

"Oh don’t worry, we don’t want another accident happen so soon." she joked half heartedly and I groaned. Accident.

"Can you maybe not make these kind of jokes just now…" I let out, harsher than intended, and she looked up from her bag, eyes wide.

"I’m sorry." she whispered, looking back down, her shoulders visible tensing.

"No… I’m sorry." I gently took her hand in mine but she pulled away.

"I’m ready, we can go… thank you for everything." Lizzie grabbed her bag and smiled at the nurse. I wanted to take her bag but she already started walking out the room.

"Fuck…" I muttered under my breath "Thank you!" I nodded at the nurse, following Lizzie, who was almost at the elevator "Lizzie wait…" I called after her "Hey! Cara mia, give me your bag."

"I’m fine..." she whispered, turning away.

"Lizzie, please. Give me your bag." I repeated, but she shook her head, still not looking at me.

"I’ll be in the car on the weekend. I can carry my bag." she said right as the elevator doors opened.

"I know that you can, but you don’t have to. So please, cara mia." I almost pleaded but Lizzie was stubborn and carried her bag all the way to the car and from the car back to our hotel room as well.

"I already packed your suitcase last night, I just left some clothes for the flight out… I hope what I picked was okay?" I said to her and she only nodded, grabbing the clothes and then disappeared in the bathroom. I heard the shower going and could’ve sworn that I heard Lizzie sob "Cara mia? Are you okay?" I knocked on the door.

"Yeah. I’ll hurry, don’t worry." her voice confirmed my suspicion, she was crying.

"Lizzie, can I come in?" I said gently.

"I’m okay, Charles. Just give me a minute."

I sighed and sat down on the bed, thinking about what I did.

"You can go now if you want…" Lizzie said and I flinched, she stood in front of me, fully dressed, her hair wrapped in a towel.

"Can we talk about what happened?" I tried it again but Lizzie walked away.

"There is nothing to talk and if you want to take a shower you need to hurry up, the car is here in 20 minutes." she sat down at the table and began to blow dry her hair and I sighed, knowing that I wouldn’t get her to talk. At least not now. Defeated I grabbed my stuff and want to the bathroom, not without looking at Lizzie once more. Her shoulders slumped, eyes trained down to the floor. Great fucking job, Charles.

I called Julie, silently begging that she would answer the call immediately.

"Lizzie, hey! How are you?" Julie sounded worried.

"I’m fine. Really." I said although I didn’t felt like it.

"Okay… if I can do anything, just let me know, okay?"

"Actually, there is something you can do…" I said, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, sure, everything."

"Can you book a room for me in Japan?" I asked.

"It’s already booked… Mia sent me the details…" she sounded confused.

"No… umm- a room… for me. Just me."

Silence.

"Okay… whatever you want…" Julie said after a while.

"Thank you… see you in Suzuka…" I hung up and finished my hair, pulling it up into a messy bun right when Charles came out of the bathroom, packing away his things "Ready? Joris texted me that the driver is here."

"Umm yeah. Sure. Let’s go…" Charles replied and grabbed his bag, as well as mine. I cocked an eyebrow but he shook his head "Just let me carry it, okay?"

"Okay…" I mumbled and we left the room, meeting up with Joris. I didn’t listen to anything they were saying and just wanted to get into the plane, put my head down and sleep. Or at least try to. I was never really a fan of sleeping on the plane but maybe after last night sleep would find me easily.

"Cara mia?" I heard Charles whisper and opened my eyes "We landed."

"Already?" I yawned and he nodded.

"You were gone the moment you sat down." Charles smiled and I stretched a little.

"Okay…" I got up and grabbed my bag, following Charles out of the plane and all the way through to the arrival hall, where already a bunch of fans were waiting for us, mostly Charles, but still. I smiled for as many selfies as possible, signed stuff and thanked the fans for coming although I was more than exhausted. Light cramps made me flinch a little and I felt how I had to force my smile more and more with every new selfie.

"Guys, leave Lizzie a little space to breathe. The crash is still in her bones!" Charles stepped next to me and some fans immediately took some steps back, but not all of them and with Charles now next to me, even more people swarmed us and he pulled me to his side. With Joris on my other side and some securities coming to our help, we made it outside and into our car.

"I think we really should consider hiring bodyguards for yo- for us." Charles said hastily when I glared at him.

"I was fine before you and your whole mob of fangirls came along." I said bluntly and he looked at me for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head and turned to Joris.

"You have a dinner later. You have to attend. Sorry…" he said and Charles groaned.

"How much time do I have?"

"Let’s say, check in, change, go? And we still might be a little late."

"Great. Just great." Charles looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders "I don’t want to leave you alone…"

"I’m fine. In fact, I’m meeting up with Julie anyways, she wants to show me some stuff for Netflix." I lied and he nodded "I’ll go straight to her room when we arrive."

"Okay… but Lizzie? Don’t overwork yourself… the doctor said to take it a little slow. Please."

"Don’t worry, I will." I replied when our car stopped and another mass of fans was waiting "Round 2 I guess."

"How did Charles react?" Julie asked when I dropped my bag on the sofa.

"Umm… he doesn’t know." I replied and she made big eyes "It’s better like this."

"Yeah maybe, but you still should tell him that! And not just let him walk into an empty hotel room…"

"I’m going to send him a text. We need a little space. He’s hurt and mad… and it’s not because I had a miscarriage… it’s because I said that I’m relieved." I almost whispered.

"But you explained him why, right? I can’t imagine Charles being mad if he knows the reasons? It’s Charles after all?" she cocked an eyebrow as I sat down on the sofa.

"Yeah but his reaction? I- I think he’s more hurt than he wants to admit. He needs time to think about it. To process it. And he can’t do that when I’m next to him all the time." I grabbed my phone and opened a text for Charles "He will understand."

"I hope you’re right…"

I groaned, turning to switch on the nightstand lamp.

"What the actual fuck…" I muttered, the hammering at my door got even more frantic "What…" I checked the time 1:17 am. I scrambled out of the bed and walked to the door, looking through the peephole. Charles. My heart hammering in my chest.

"Open the door please, cara mia!" his voice hoarse.

"Charles? What are you doing here? At this time?" I whispered when I opened the door to let him in and he pulled me into a tight embrace.

"I hate it like this. When we’re separated! I don’t sleep well when you’re not next to me… I’m sorry that I woke you up but I just couldn’t stand being away from you for just one more minute…" Charles mumbled, his hot breath tickling my ear.

He looked tired, exhausted, something I noticed this morning as well.

"I just thought that after Singapore… you were clearly mad at me when I made that stupid joke…" I began and he cupped my cheeks.

"I know and I’m sorry. It was more that I had to wrap my head around this all for a moment and you were already joking about it… and I know that it’s just a coping mechanism… but in that moment? I thought about this little bean, our little bean, and it made me sad and hurt that you were happy that it’s gone, although I completely understood why you were relieved! And I fully support you! It’s just… I don’t know? I just needed a moment to get it all sorted out. I shouldn’t have snapped at you! I know that! And I’m so, so sorry that I did! But please understand me as well. And please don’t send me away. I don’t want to sleep without you ever again. It was horrible. I felt horrible. I need you by my side… especially here…" Charles almost whispered the last words and I realised how stupid and selfish I was.

"I’m so sorry Charles! I- I honestly didn’t even think about where we are… I just wanted to give you space and-…" I began but he silenced me with a kiss.

"I don’t ever want space from you, okay? Never. We talk. We find a solution. No one leaves." he leaned his forehead against mine "And can we please go to bed now? I’m so freaking tired…"

"Okay…" I whispered pulling him with me back into bed.

"I love you, Lizzie." Charles said after a while, holding me close to his body, his hand gently tracing my spine up and down.

"I love you too…" I tilted my head up and kissed his cheek "And I’m sorry for leaving you alone here-…"

"You don’t have to apologise, cara mia. I’m just happy to have you next to me again… it’s weird, but when you’re not next to me…"

"You can’t sleep well? It’s the same for me… I’m tossing and turning, but I don’t really sleep…" I whispered and he nodded.

"Yeah… I mean when I’m in Maranello alone, I can sleep because we talk before I go to bed? But this? When we don’t talk? I hate it…" he kissed the crown of my head "But you have to believe me, Lizzie, I wasn’t mad at you, never, okay? I just… I don’t know. The doctor said that there was a baby. Our baby. And suddenly all I ever dreamed of having was just right there in front of me… and in my mind, hearing you say that you were relieved was like saying you don’t want this. Us. I know it’s not the truth! But sometimes my mind plays these kinda tricks on me and I need a moment to sort it all out in my head. But there was not one second where I was mad at you. If I was mad, then at the situation. But nothing else, okay?"

I nodded. Wiping away a stray tear.

"We’re going to be fine. It’s all going to be okay, cara mia. You and me against the world." another kiss on my head "And now we really should sleep. We have quali today. And I don’t know about you, but I really want to wipe away that grin of some certain people’s faces…"

"Yeah… me too."

"Ryan Andrew’s, CBS. Lizzie after your crash in Singapore you seemed to be a little off the whole weekend in Japan, was the crash worse than it looked like? Was it potentially not a good idea to race?"

"Of course I still felt the crash in my bones. It was a high speed corner where I crashed out. But I was and am alright. The result in Japan had nothing to do with the crash." I lied, feeling Charles eyes on me.

"Kelly Johnson, BBC Sports. Charles, in Japan the Ferrari’s looked quite strong, after Singapore another good race for your team. Do you think you can repeat that performance this weekend?" the blonde reporter in the first row asked him.

"Yeah we did quite good, we seem to understand the car better now, so I’m hoping to see some better results in the next races."

"Michael Breitner. Auto, Motor, Sport. Question for Charles. Many people expected your contract renewal to be announced in Monza… that was now two races ago. Are the contract negotiations still going on?"

"To be honest I can’t tell you much about that. Because there is not much to say at the moment. I’m focusing on this season. Then the next season. My contractual situation is not really on my mind." Charles answered with a smile and I knew how hard it must’ve been for him to sit there and look like he was believing his own words, when inside it was killing him to not know what was going on.

"Is it possible that we might see you in a different team after next year?"

"I don’t know. In Formula 1 everything is possible as we know. Everyone knows how much I love my team and that I want to win the championship with them. But at the end of the day I just want to drive and if not at Ferrari then at any other team that believes in me. But for now I can’t talk about things this far in the future when I don’t know about them myself…"

A murmur went through the room, the heads of Max, Lewis and Nico snapping to look at Charles. To say that no one expected this answer was the understatement of the year.

"To make this clear, you do think of the possibility of leaving Ferrari for another team?"

"No. I’m not thinking of leaving Ferrari. I’m saying that if Ferrari doesn’t renew my contract, then I will look for another option." the smile he forced out looked almost painful and when the press conference was over and we left, I pulled Charles with me.

"They’re persistent, no?" he chuckled bitterly and I hugged him, massaged his scalp.

"Don’t listen to their questions. They just want to get a reaction out of you." I whispered "You will get your seat. Preferably at Ferrari, I know, but at the end of the day, seat is seat, okay?"

"Yeah… you’re right."

"Now come on. Let’s finish up and then cool down in our huge bathtub…" I kissed his cheek and pulled away, before he pulled me back in and kissed me tenderly.

"Better?" I laughed when he let go of me.

"Better."

I stopped the car and switched everything off, leaning my head back. Worst race ever. I opened up the visor, hoping for some cold and fresh air to stream in just to be greeted with the searing hot air of Qatar. I was never this happy that a race weekend was over. After taking a few shallow breaths, I tried to get out of the car. The struggle was real. My knees were wobbly. I clipped out the steering wheel and put it on the hood of my car, trying to pull myself up but failed miserably.

"Come here, cara mia." I heard Charles faint voice and looked up. He gently grabbed me by the waist, pulling me out of the cockpit, then sat me down on the halo, clipping my steering wheel back in place.

"Thank you, Charlie." I whispered, fighting with the straps of my helmet.

"Let me…" he said, unbuckling the clasp, pulling my helmet off "Hey pretty girl." he pulled my balaclava off next, wiping my sweaty hair out of my face.

"Hot. So freaking hot." I pressed out, pushing off of the halo, trying to cautiously slip off and take a first step, just to be caught by Charles "Fuck." I breathed out.

"You’re done…" he said, picking me up, holding me tight. He carried me bridal style into the cold hospitality, sitting me down on the floor "You’re totally overheated, Lizzie."

"My water was gone after the first couple of minutes already." I whispered, leaning my head against the cold wall.

"Here." Andrea appeared next to us, handing me a water bottle.

"I can’t. Need to go to weighing first." my voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s okay…" I heard an F1 official say and Charles unscrewed the cap of the bottle, holding it to my mouth, the moment the cold water streamed down my throat I let out a quiet moan.

"Stop making these noises for everyone to hear… only I’m allowed to hear that…" he chuckled underneath his breath and I managed a little smirk.

"Sorry…" I whispered "Is everyone okay? I’m not the only one who’s this done, or am I?"

"You’re definitely not." Pierre sank down next to leaning his head against the cold wall "Almost everyone is done for."

"Can we please never race here again." I sighed a little.

"Yeah… I would vote against it as well." Pierre whispered, his head on my shoulder.

"Me too." George plopped down on the floor in front of us, shuffling down his race suit "That’s just too much heat."

"Well… as director of the GPDA, take matters into your hands." I chuckled and he laughed.

"Later. For now I just need a moment to cool down."

"Same, same."

The room felt warm and welcoming, the yellow walls washing a sense of calm over me, only the smell of the disinfection spray didn’t fit in. When the door opened Charles squeezed my hand and smiled at me.

"Miss Doetterer. I only have good news for you. The tissue passed completely. Your blood values look good, same for everything else. Light bleeding or spotting in the next 2-3 weeks are normal, nothing to worry about." Dr. Bernard said.

"So it’s all good?" I asked and he nodded.

"Yes. It’s all good." he repeated and I took a deep breath in.

"Thanks, Dr. Bernard." Charles shook his hand and I did the same.

"I think that’s it for today. There’s only one thing left to say for me. Good luck in Mexico." Dr. Bernard smiled and we nodded, leaving his office.

"I’d say let’s grab something to eat and then head home, the car will pick us up pretty damn early." Charles opened the door for me and I slipped in "What do you want to eat?"

"I would love a pizza…" I mumbled and he chuckled.

"Pizza it is. I’m not telling JK if you’re not telling Andrea."

"That sounds like a deal!" I leaned back and watched the busy streets of Monaco, all the young families with their babies in the most beautiful and stylish strollers "I never noticed how many babies there are in Monaco." I almost whispered and Charles took my hand in his.

"One day, cara mia. Don’t worry… the time for our little family starting to grow will come." he kissed the back of my hand and I turned a little, looking at him "There’s still enough time. Maybe enough for the both of us to win a title."

"You will win a title sooner than later… me on the other hand? Not so sure, but I sure as hell keep trying."

"No no, our baby will have world champion parents." Charles sounded determined and I laughed.

"Our baby will have one definite world champion parent and one maybe world champion parent… let’s be realistic."

"I am!"

"Okay… whatever you say."

"But until then it’s quite a long way."

"The only way I’m caring about right now is the one to Antonio’s!" I pouted a little when my stomach grumbled.

"Got you. Less talking. More driving."

"Exactly." I laughed again.

"I’m just wondering… you get already really grumpy when you’re hungry just now… but when a tiny human is growing inside you?" Charles raised his eyebrows.

"Good that you’re a fast driver then…"

Chapter 40 - some of you have guessed it 😔 I really hope I could describe the feelings and it all as natural and real as possible… the chapter feels a little rushed towards the end, but I didn’t want to put too much in it… especially now that the triple header is right around the corner and A LOT is about to happen 👀

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@silkenthusiasts @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @itsjustkhaos @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @shimmermotorsport @janeholt3 @kahhorri @18754389 @chiliwhore @hellowgoodbye @queensassybitchsworld @harrysdimple05 @skynel09

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skulla-rxcks · 7 months

Text

Because you’re mine.{Chapter 3}

Previous chapter next chapter

Paring: Felix x afab reader

Rating: explicit. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Genre: smut, mafia au

Warnings: non c0n, g0re, murd£r

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @queenmea604 @salfetkablog @hyunlixs-wife0309

Please dm me if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

What the hell was that? He just kissed me and.. left.

I collapse onto the bed, maybe I should try sleeping again.

Closing my eyes, I try and sleep but it’s no use it doesn’t work, I’m tired but the kiss Chan gave me is haunting my mind, I hate it but I need to talk to him about it, I need to ask him why.

My hand turns the door knob letting me out of the room. All I need to do now is find his room.

“Chan..?” I call out, trying to find where he is.

“He’s gone out to kill.” A voice responds, it’s one of the guys that was introduced to me during dinner. The guy with blue hair; Felix, I believe. “C-could you get him to come back? It’s.. uh, important.”

“It’s important huh?” He chuckles, a smirk forming in the corner of his mouth. “..well then, tell me instead.” His words cause a shiver inside of me. He’s definitely dangerous, even though he seems nice.

“Please.. it’s very urgent..”

He continues laughing, he walks away leaving me standing there by myself. “Chan..!” I yell out again, hoping he’s near by. I take a couple of steps forward looking around the empty hallway. “Chan.. where are you..” tears run down my face as I collapse on the floor next to one of the exits. a few hours go by and he’s still not back, I decide to go back to the room I was in earlier.

Someone knocks on the door, opening it and looking at me with a strange sense of pride. “you realise he won’t be back so quickly right?” it’s Felix. AGAIN. “p-please just get Chan it’s really.. ‘i-important business’..” I choke out the last word, my tears coming back.

“How about I keep you company while you wait for him?..” Felix snares placing his hand on my inner thigh. “W-what are.. you doing…?” I gasp, shivering as his fingers trail up to my panties, slipping his hand inside before forcing two of his fingers into my tight little cunt. “Making it so you have something, well. Someone to entertain you.” He smirks, pushing me down onto the bed and proceeding to grab a pocket knife out of his jeans.

“N-no stop! You’re hurting me!! No..” I plead to the blue haired man. “I’m not hurting you you. Unless you make a fuss.” He snaps, his grip on the knife getting stronger. The blade runs down my clothes cutting them off of me, damaging some of my skin in the process. “Felix get off of me!” I yell, trying to push him off of me but it’s no use, he’s too strong compared to me, keeping me down on the bed to do whatever he pleases to my naked body. “Shut your fucking mouth you stupid bitch.” He demands, replacing his fingers with the handle of the knife, beginning to thrust the wooden handle of the blade in and out of my pussy.

As soon as he leans down to nibble on my neck I decide to try another method to get him off me; biting. I begin biting the closest part of his skin to me, moans slipping occasionally from my mouth as I attempt to bite the mans skin in an act of self defense.

my bites become more and more aggressive eager to get him off of me. I manage to open one of the draws in the night stand next to me with one of my free hands, fiddling around I grab onto something, praying that it helps me one way or another, I turn my head slightly so I can see what the item is. It’s a hand gun, I’m so fucking lucky this was in here. Now I just hope there’s some bullets in it. While he’s busy eyeing my body I manage to aim the weapon at his head, closing my eyes as I pull the trigger. Boom. His head gets blown off with a bang. I open my eyes and widen them, realising what I’ve just done to him. A man I hardly knew, I just fucking shot.

The site of his head is enough to make my stomach twist, I almost puke at the site. That bullet really did a lot of damage, I can see his nerves, eyes and skull popping out of his bloody flesh, it’s disgusting. I’m disgusting. I Just fucking shot someone, sure it was in self defense but I literally just killed a man!

The others will probably kill me for it, I wouldn’t be surprised. I deserve it for my actions even though he was the one who came onto me in the first place.

“What the fuck happened while I was gone??!” Chan yells, barging into the room and slamming the door behind him. “I.. he..” I can’t get the words out. Fucking fantastic. I just stare blankly at the blood on my hands and the carpet. “What happened to the clothes I gave you..” Chan walks up to me, picking up the cut up clothes of mine and taking a seat next to me. “And more importantly why is his knife inside your cunt?” He looks at me, then looks at the corpse on the floor.

“Did he do this to you..?” He asks. I

don’t answer. “I said did he FUCKING DO THIS TO YOU?” He repeats. Demanding an answer at this point. The words still struggle to get out of my mouth so I just nod, lifting my head up to to look at Chan, tears forming in my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to kill him it was self defense!” I plead.

“Him being dead is the least of my worries. Seems like that bastard deserved it. Now, tell me the full story.” Chan responds. He’s surprisingly more calm than I expected, even though I just killed one of his ‘members’ if that’s what they’re called. I explain what happened to Chan, somehow he’s not mad at me like I expected him to be. He said I can stay in his room for the night apparently he’ll get one of the boys to clean up Felix’s corpse and guts. In the meantime Chan takes his shirt off and makes me wear it so I at least have some sort of coverage for a while.

#~skulla rxcks #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #lee felix smut #felix smut

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lets-just-daydream · 6 months

Text

I Loved You First - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Chapter 3: It's Not That Simple

The days at Szarr Palace ticked by as more staff hurried around the place preparing for the big party. Even when you had left the grounds to wander the shops in the city it seemed that all anyone could talk about was the big party that Cazador Szarr was throwing. Anyone who was anyone was invited and expected to be in attendance. Even politicians which the thought of utterly terrified you. You knew Cazador was an important and well-known figure in the city but admittedly, you hadn’t realised how important and influential he was. Now you truly understood why your parents were so eager for you to marry him.

You’d be living in the lap of luxury by the side of one of the most important men in the city. The thought should fill you with hope and excitement, any lady would probably kill to be in your position but you just didn’t feel the excitement. Perhaps you were doomed to a marriage with a man you hardly knew and didn’t really like. You certainly wouldn’t be the first and you wouldn’t be the last. At least he had the assets to ensure more than just your comfort.

Another thing on your mind was Astarion. You had grown accustomed to seeing him and even dared to hope he’d be in your path as you wandered through the palace. But no such luck. You hadn’t seen him in days. It was the night before the party and as you prepared for a bath, someone knocked on your door. You approached and cracked it open to see Violet standing there.

“Good evening, my lady,” she greeted. “You rang for a bath?”

“I did,” you said, stepping aside to let her in. “If you could teach me how to fill the bath, I wouldn’t have to ring for you, you know.”

Violet let out an airy chuckle as she fiddled around in the bathroom. “Please, I have no qualms about coming to your call. And Mas- Lord Cazador would not appreciate his future wife doing so.”

You gulped at her blase title for you. “H-His future wife?”

Sure you knew he might propose to you but the casual nature in which she spoke… Had Cazador already made up his mind? Your heart rate increased and as if she had known, Violet approached and sat you down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright? I didn’t mean to upset you, my lady,” she said, panicking slightly.

“No, no,” you comforted her. “You haven’t done anything of the sort I just… Well the idea of getting married is a little scary,” you explained, omitting some of the truth. “And I wasn’t entirely sure of Lord Cazador’s intentions, yet.”

Violet nodded in understanding. “I’m not sure of his intentions, either. I’m just a bit of a romantic and I do love weddings, so I’m hoping for the best,” she said with a sincere smile.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from your lips. “I’m a bit of a romantic, too,” you confessed. You reached across to the nightstand and picked up the book you’d meant to continue reading. “I’ve picked a romance book from the library and I hope to finish it soon.”

Violet nodded and stepped away to continue getting your bath ready. As she did so, you turned the book in your hands and recalled Astarion showing you to the library and your heart sank slightly.

“Violet?” You asked, putting the book down and stepping to the bathroom. “I haven’t seen Astarion around the past few days.”

You watched as Violet paused for a moment, her long ears twitching before she finished the bath and stood to face you.

“Is he… alright?” You asked, hesitating. Violet bit her lip and looked anywhere but at you, and in her hesitation you began to worry. “Violet?”

She cleared her throat and she opened her mouth to speak before clamping shut again. “I’m so sorry, I have work to attend to.”

Violet brushed past you without another word and closed the door as she departed. You stared at the closed door with furrowed brows and bit your lip. Well now you were truly worried after the pale elf, you hadn’t seen him in days and Violet’s reaction to your question began a storm in your mind. You wondered where he was, if he was okay and if he needed help. Maybe Cazador had fired him and now he was homeless and destitute. You stepped into the bath as you continued worrying. You would ask Cazador tomorrow if he knew where Astarion was and maybe he could put your mind at ease.

As much as you didn’t love Cazador’s company, he was still very kind to you and made countless accommodations for you. You’d mentioned one of your favourite foods and it was suddenly featured in every night’s dinner. You had offhandedly mentioned your neck was sore and an assortment of new pillows were on your bed the next day for you to try. He had even started serving breakfast a little later in the morning since he noticed you slept in a little in the mornings.

“A woman after my own heart,” he had said. “I’m also a late riser.” He had then given you a genuine smile and you couldn’t help but notice his sharp canines when he bared his teeth. You recalled noticing Astation’s sharp teeth as well and only offered him a smile in return, your thoughts turning non-stop even till now.

You had noticed these small oddities but you didn’t know what they meant. Cazador didn’t seem like he was running a cult, he was too high-profile for that. But you couldn’t figure it out. Maybe he was just a strange man with particular tastes. You supposed that if you did end up marrying him, he would eventually feel comfortable enough around you to open up.

You finished your bath and dried off, opening your closet to find your sleep clothes. You saw your dress for the party hung up and your stomach churned. In all the weird happenings and wondering where Astarion was, you’d almost forgotten about the party tomorrow evening. You grimaced as you dressed for bed, certainly not ready and not looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.

You awoke the following morning with a yawn and stretch. You heard the pitter patter of rain on the window and you leapt out of bed to open the curtains. It certainly looked dreary outside with not a sliver of sun to be seen. Gods, this was perfect weather to read but you knew you’d be spending the day preparing for the party tonight. You dressed in a day dress and left the room to join everyone for breakfast. The halls were aflutter with activity and chatter as flowers were placed, silverware was polished and cleaning done. It seemed even the servants were looking forward to the party which brought a smile to your face. You entered the dining room and were surprised to see the curtains all open, the rain streaked windows displaying the wet weather outside.

“Good morning, darling,” your father greeted.

“Morning,” you said cheerily.

Cazador stood and nodded his head to you. “Good morning, you seem to be in cheery spirits this morning.”

You blushed slightly. “I guess the atmosphere of everyone preparing for this evening is a little contagious.”

Your mother sat up straight and looked at you. “You’re looking forward to the party? Oh, how perfect.”

You glanced back at Cazador and offered a shy smile and a small shrug which caused him to chuckle slightly. He pulled your seat out for you as he always did and you began eating, a servant coming and filling your glass with juice.

“Thank you,” you turned and said when you gasped and saw Astarion beside you. “Astarion!”

The pale elf froze and looked shocked. As did your parents and Cazador, the latter squinting at you and staring at Astarion unbeknownst to you. You nearly gasped again when you saw his skin looked slightly bruised and sallow.

“Where have you been? You don't… look too well. Are you alright?”

Astarion stood stock-still as his eyes flicked quickly to Cazador. He looked slightly fearful, panicked almost.

Cazador cleared his throat beside you. “He’s been outside the city gathering some things for tonight. And you know how rowdy taverns in the outskirts in the city can be. What kind of man doesn’t get into a fist-fight here and there?”

Your father grunted his gruff approval at this and continued eating.

You turned to Cazador who was staring intently at Astarion with a very unpleasant expression on his face. You pressed your lips together and looked down at your lap. You suddenly recalled the conversation when Astarion pulled you aside and said your questions were dangerous and to stop worrying about him. Now you feared you had got him into trouble.

“I see,” you simply said, trying to diffuse the tension. “A-anyway, I am looking forward to the party tonight, my lord.”

Cazador’s expression forcibly softened as he turned his attention to you. “I’m very glad to hear it. In fact, I wondered if you might join me for a walk in the garden after breakfast.”

You glanced at the windows to the rainy weather. “Um, alright,” you hesitated.

“Not to worry, I have parasols to shield us from the elements,” Cazador smiled.

You let out a small laugh. Whether it was a nervous laugh or a genuine one, you weren’t sure. “Alright.”

You finished eating, noting that Cazador had hardly touched his plate just like every meal he ever joined you for. He stood and offered you his arm which you took as he led you outside, parasol in hand.

“Do you not have much of an appetite, my lord?” You asked as you stepped outside.

Cazador looked at you with a raised brow.

“I only ask since I noticed you don’t eat much or at all when we sit for our meals,” you continued.

“You sweet little thing,” he complimented. “I don’t usually eat much at meal times since I tend to eat when I’m busy with my work. The servants bring me plenty of meals, so don’t you worry.

You nodded as you continued your walk together, the parasol doing a good job to keep you dry.

“It’s nice that we’re out for a walk,” you began. “But forgive me, my lord, why are we out when it’s raining.”

Cazador smiled. “Well with the party tonight, I finally have some time for leisure as I’ve put my work aside for the day. To spend it with you.”

Your cheeks flushed and you said nothing.

“I do apologise for being so absent. My work is… quite taxing and as much as I would love to lavish you with attention all day, I have many important tasks on my plate.”

“I understand,” you said. “You’re a busy and important man. I don’t hold it against you, my lord.”

Cazador stopped and took your free hand in his, raising it to his lips and brushing his lips against your skin. “I love how understanding you are, dear angel.”

Your heart stuttered at the term of endearment. “Of course, my lord.”

He certainly was busy with his work and didn’t give you his attention at all hours of the day but he had his romantic moments when he did give you his attention. If he showered you with enough affection you might eventually grow to like him. But that thought put a damper on your spirits because it wasn’t Cazador’s affections you sought.

You completed your walk and he bowed slightly. Unnecessary given his standing but a gesture nonetheless that didn’t go unnoticed by you or your parents who had been waiting for you to come back and tell them everything about your little turn about the garden.

Your mother practically squealed like a schoolgirl in love when you explained what had happened between you and Cazador. She turned to your father. “Oh, darling I’m certain he’ll propose by next week’s end.” “That soon?” You gasped.

“Marriages have happened quicker than that, especially in noble families,” your father said.

“But…” You lowered your voice. “What if I don’t want to marry him?”

Your mother rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “For heaven’s sake child, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is your duty, whether you like it, whether you don’t like it, I don’t care. You’re not even trying to like Lord Cazador. He may very well propose to you and you will say yes.”

You scoffed and looked to your father for assistance but he just nodded in agreement with your mother. “Are you both serious? I don’t like it here! I have a bad feeling about Lord Cazador and I’m not sure why but please don’t make me marry him!”

Your mother raised her hand at your insolence but your father caught her hand before it could make contact with your cheek. She looked at him, rage in her eyes and he just shook his head slowly. He then glanced at the staircase and you all turned to see Astarion standing on the top landing of the stairs.

“M-my apologies, I heard yelling and came to see if everything was alright,” he explained quickly.

“Everything’s fine ,” you huffed, taking the opportunity to step away from your parents and ascend the stairs.

You walked past Astarion and heard him barely whisper. “Are you alright?”

You stopped for a moment, glaring back at your parents but continuing to your room without another word to anyone as tears welled in your eyes. You made it to your room and slammed the door behind you, sinking to the floor as your tears now ran freely while you sobbed. You truly thought if you had just come along, played nicely and behaved, that maybe your parents wouldn’t make you do this. But now it seemed your fate was sealed and there was nothing you could do.

You sobbed into your hands as a gentle knock pattered at the door. “Go away,” you sniffled.

“Sorry,” Astarion’s voice came through the door.

You froze and wiped the tears away quickly and stood, flinging the door open. You met his red eyes and slightly battered face and he gazed at you with concern, his white brows knitting with worry.

“Sorry, I thought you might have been my parents,” you said, retreating back into your room and slumping on the floor against the bed.

Astarion stepped inside and sat beside you, resting his hand on your knee. “Are you alright? I heard some of the conversation with your parents,” Astarion confessed.

You leaned your head back against the bed and looked up. “How much of it did you hear?”

Astarion looked at your stretched neck and gulped before averting his gaze to the carpet. “You don’t want to marry him,” Astarion said quietly.

You sighed and your eyes slipped closed. “Are you going to tell him?” You asked dully.

“No,” Astarion whispered.

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him. “Why not?”

The pale elf shrugged. “I don’t want to speak out of turn. But know that your secret is safe with me.”

You gave him a small smile that barely lifted the corners of your lips. “Thank you.”

Astarion nodded and returned the smile, rubbing his thumb on your clothed knee to comfort you. “I hope tonight’s party will lift your spirits.” You focused on the sensation of Astarion’s hand on your knee and you sighed. You would much prefer to sit here in your room with him all night instead of attending this party. You wanted to know what happened to him, wanted to know why everyone was so cagey around Cazador and what he was really like when he didn’t have guests to impress.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

Astarion did a sharp intake of breath and bit his lip. “I-” “You can be honest with me!” You added quickly.

“Darling, I-” Astarion said before quickly stopping himself. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He stood and slicked his white curly hair back before turning away and leaving.

You stared at the door where he just left, your breathing slightly faster than usual. You held in the small squeak that threatened to leave your lips at the pet name he had called you. Did Astarion perhaps also feel even an inkling of something towards you? You shook the thought from your head. He was just being nice, you were very upset after all, and it seemed Cazador was also loose-tongued with his pet names for you. You leaned back and stared up at the ceiling as you thought about Astarion. His gorgeous curly hair and his strange red eyes that everyone who lived here seemed to share. You laughed as you wondered if your eyes would turn red after living here long enough. As your mind wandered, your eyes slipped shut and you dozed off, your mind still on the pale elf whose soft thumb you could swear you still felt on your knee.

You were shaken awake by a soft feminine voice coaxing you from your sleep. “My lady, please wake up.” You opened your eyes to see Violet sitting in front of you, her hand on your arm as she gently shook it.

You blinked and noticed that while it was still cloudy and rainy, it was darker in here than when you had fallen asleep.

“Ah, you’re awake. I do hate to rush you but guests will be arriving in an hour and I thought you might like some help getting ready,” Violet said as she stood and made her way to your closet and opened it up to find the dress you’d be wearing tonight.

You stood and rubbed your eyes, shutting the door to your room before you started undressing. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Violet smiled as she pulled the dress out.

You stepped out of your day dress and into the dress Violet held out for you. She did up the corset and stepped back as you turned to face her. “You look gorgeous, my lady.”

You turned to look into the mirror as Violet quickly stepped away and out of view. “I suppose it does look rather nice,” you said with a smile. “Would you mind helping me do my hair? Please? I’d like to have it up.”

Violet nodded and stepped forward to style your hair for you, pulling the seat away from your dresser and closer to the sconce nearby for “better lighting” as she put it. She made quick work of your hair with seemingly practiced hands after brushing, inserting pins and using a heated rod to curl some parts of it. She finally stepped aside and you moved to examine yourself in the mirror, beaming at how it was all coming together.

“Now for the necklace…” You murmured to yourself as you opened the package and slipped it onto your clavicle and clasped it shut. “How do I look?”

Violet nodded with a smile, long canines peeking out from beneath her lip which caused you to pause. “Gorgeous, my lady. Do you need anything else?”

“No…” You said slowly as she turned and left the room.

There was something strange about this whole place for certain and you were going to find out what. Perhaps you'd need to get Astarion and Violet to open up to you a bit more and find out the truth. Especially if you were going to be married to the lord of this palace.

You shuddered at the thought and slipped on your shoes before stepping out of your room. As you descended the hallway towards the main area of the house, you could already hear jovial chatter, tasteful music lilting through the air and smell the mix of perfumes, food and flowing drink.

You approached the top of the stairs and the chatter hushed slightly as people stopped to look at you. You froze under their sudden attention and your eyes darted around until they landed on Astarion's familiar face, an unreadable expression on it as he gazed at you. He was dressed in a red tunic with gold threading and while you were certain his clothes weren't as expensive as Cazador's, he looked amazing. His hair perfectly curled and framing his face as usual. A clearing of someone's throat caught your attention and you finally landed on Cazador who approached the bottom landing of the stairs, one of his arms stretched out to you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies,” he said smoothly with practiced ease. “May I please present tonight's guest of honour and lovely guest to my and my home.”

He introduced you and you nodded slightly with a nervous smile as the party guests clapped while you descended the stairs. You slipped your hand into his and he pressed a cold kiss to it, meeting your eye before his gaze slipped to your neck. You pressed your lips together and looked away, spying your parents nearby with satisfied smiles on their faces.

You stepped away from Cazador with a polite smile and made your way through the crowd towards one of the newer staff who walked around with goblets of drink in a tray. However you were stopped by lords and ladies alike, introducing themselves to you. You simply smiled, nodded, offered your hand to the gentlemen when needed and mirrored the curtseys from the ladies until you finally broke through and made it to the servant whose tray was now empty.

You let out a frustrated huff before someone tapped you on the shoulder. You rolled your eyes internally, preparing for another introduction when you turned around to see Astarion with a goblet in hand, offering it to you.

“Am I glad to see you,” you said with a laugh.

“Are you talking to me or the drink?” Astarion asked with a smirk.

“You,” you answered far too quickly. You quickly raised the goblet to your lips before you could say anything else entirely stupid. “There are a lot more people here than I ever anticipated.”

Astarion nodded, his eyes not leaving you. “Lord Cazador hosts lavish parties to the elite of the city and beyond. And there are a lot of elite. Though do mind who you talk to, some of them are less than savoury.”

Your eyes widened at this. “What do you mean?”

Astarion furrowed his brow and one of his pointy ears twitched. “My apologies, I've spoken out of turn.”

Before you could get another word in he turned on his heel and retreated back into the throng of people.

“Good evening, my lady,” a new voice said from beside you. “Gale of Waterdeep. A pleasure to meet you. May I have this dance?”

You looked to the dancefloor with couples scattered about and looked back at the man before you, his eyes twinkling with warmth. Not something you had ever detected in Cazador now that you thought of it. You nodded and took his offered hand as he led you to the middle of the dancefloor.

Through a couple of dances you learned he was a wizard from a known family who was sent in place of his mother. You weren't terribly interested in his story and as you danced, you couldn't help but scan the edges of the room for a certain white-haired elf.

You managed to spot him a few times and when you did, he was already looking at you. You turned away, blushing every time.

“I thought you were here to marry Lord Cazador,” Gale said matter-of-factly.

“I am,” you answered far too quickly. “M-maybe, if he chooses so.”

“Hm,” Gale hummed.

The song ended and he let you go with a bow. Before anyone else could pull you aside or a dance or a drink, you beelined for the balcony, opened the door and slipped through quietly. After what seemed like hours of mingling and chatting you truly needed a break of fresh air from the crowd of people and the constant attention.

You leaned against the railing and let out a sigh, looking across at the water soaked gardens from the rain earlier. You dropped your head and wondered if this was what the rest of your life might be like. Married to Cazador, overwhelming parties and rubbing elbows with people like this. You hated the thought of it.

The sound of the door opening behind you caused you to freeze and let out an agitated sigh. At least you got a moment of reprieve. You turned around with a painted on smile and faltered when you saw Astarion standing in front of the now closed door.

“Astarion,” you breathed. “Sorry I just needed a moment away from… all that.”

“I understand,” he said as he approached the railing and leaned against it next to you.

You looked at him and noticed how he looked an angelic vision in the moonlight. His pale skin looked like it was glowing and his lightened hair made a halo around his head, and his red eyes looked like rubies in place.

“Does Cazador do many of these?” You asked, clearing your throat and looking away.

Astarion nodded, offering you a sympathetic look.

“Great,” you sighed. “Do you…”

You inhaled as you hesitated. You had to know where you stood, if there was still a chance that you could be going home.

“Do you know how he feels… about me?” You asked.

Astarion stiffened and turned to face you fully now, a cool hand coming up to cup your cheek. He softly rubbed your skin with his thumb. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… I think he intends to propose.”

Your eyes slid shut and your brows furrowed as your heart stuttered. You bit your lip and tried to quell your emotions but it was futile, as soon as the tears welled they fell and streaked down your cheeks.

“My lady…” Astarion whispered, wiping the tears away.

You looked up at him through your wet lashes, gripping onto his arm and squeezing it. “Please,” you whispered, not even really sure what you were asking for.

You could only stare as Astarion's face inched closer to yours, his nose brushing against yours before his lips finally met your own in a soft kiss. He pulled away for a split second, as if just realising what he'd done, his eyes wide. But before he could get too far away you chased his lips, pressing another kiss to them.

“Astarion…” You whispered.

He kept hold of your face, whispering your name against your lips. Your free hand gripped onto his shirt, almost as if he might disappear if you didn't. He gazed into your eyes, his brows furrowing as he appeared to have an internal battle with himself.

Astarion dropped his hand and stepped away, running a hand through his hair. “I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me,” he apologised.

You shook your head, your cheeks flushed and your skin feeling impossibly hot. “Don't apologise.”

“My master…” Astarion whispered, looking down at the ground. “If he ever found out that I did this.”

“Your… master? Do you mean Lord Cazador?”

Astarion frowned at the ground, saying nothing. You stepped forward and reached for his hand but he pulled away slightly.

“Please talk to me. I- I don't want to marry Cazador and I can't bear to be here any longer feeling like this,” you pleaded.

Astarion looked up at you, his eyes sad. “You were upset and I took advantage of that. I… I can't do this. As much as I might want to.”

Astarion snapped his mouth shut and quickly retreated back inside before you could say something to make him stay.

Part 4

#red writes #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion #astarion fic

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