#iv touching ii's arm when he passed him I SAW THAT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fanficsforheartandsoul · 2 years

Text

A Wolf’s Heart | [Deglan x M!Reader] | The Witcher | Part VII

Note: I’m proud (more like ashamed haha...) to announce that the one year anniversary of this requested fic has already passed, like oh god... Ngl I struggled so hard to find the direction I wanted to take this, I had several ideas but mid-writing I wanted to change it again and now we have this. Writing is hard. This will be a life-time lesson for me. But ey depression is really a big hurdle sometimes so yeah... anyways, please enjoy and once again, sorry for the wait :)

Fandom: The Witcher

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Depression, Angst, Slight OOC, Non-Canon Story, Century Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Spiraling, Injuries, Self-Concious Reader, Misunderstandings, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Mentions of Addiction

Summary: After having suffered heavy injuries at the beginning of winter and being unable to return to Kaer Morhen, Y/N tries to mend his relationships slowly by approaching one of his friends but someone thwarts his plans and he has not yet prepared himself to meet that person again.

Word Count: 5.05k

Taglist: @thatsequoia

Note 2: For all the people wondering about the postal service in this story - like how the fuck did those letters find the witchers on the Path... Magic baby 😎

The name of Deglan’s horse (Borsuk) translates to badger.

This part mentions Vergen, which appears in the 2nd Witcher game but I haven’t played this game, so my description is inaccurate.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VIII, Part IX

Masterlist

Deglan once thought he was a patient man. He was wrong.

Birke was in two weeks and he was about to lose his fucking mind.

Y/N was invading every second of his days and he had a hard time focusing on training the new brats and lecturing them. Every little thing reminded him of the younger witcher in some way or another.

In every nook of the school's keep, he could conjure up a memory of them together and if he couldn't touch the other soon, hold him in his arms, kiss him, he would go on a rampage.

His bad mood could be sensed not only by his apprentices but also by the other witchers. Most of them had already left on the Path, the bunch he trained for example, but some were still here. And all of them were known to be lazy and therefore, their presence stoked his fury whenever he saw them chattering away and lazing around in the Evening hall.

The fiery annoyance was visible in his eyes and so most avoided him whenever they crossed his path.

While their presence had been a curse, the presence of one peculiar younger witcher ended up as a blessing.

Wendir, Y/N's close friend, was one of the men who still lingered in the school and one peculiar Saturday evening, he ended up knocking on Deglan’s door.

He was working on his next lecture when he heard the knock and he raised an eyebrow when he came face to face with the witcher he had trained alongside of Y/N, Fenri, Barmin and the three others.

The brown-haired man looked serious and a suspicious feeling rose in his chest.

"I received a letter.”

Those four words were enough for Deglan's heartbeat to speed up.

Wordlessly he received the paper from the other and he began to read.

Wendir,

I write to you in hope that you will try to understand my thinking and actions with an objective view. I don't dare send these words to Fenri or Barmin because I must have made them angry and I expect them to doubt my words, which they have every right to do. You're free to do so as well, though I beg you to try and see my reasoning before making your opinion about me.

As you may know, I haven't returned to Kaer Morhen this winter and have yet to explain why I couldn't.

At this point, I'm certain you're aware... of my secret, but please do not blame my absence on that.

You might have already left the keep and though I am uncertain of your next location I ask you to meet me in Vergen and give me the opportunity to explain myself.

I’m not there yet but I am close and as slow as I currently am, I expect to arrive around the time of Birke and if you still ride like you did when we were younger you possibly will as well.

I hope to see you soon.

Y/N, Vengerberg

If you could spare some herbs for me... An accident happened and I lost most of my stash...

Deglan read the letter twice and it took him less than a second to make a decision after he read the last sentence again.

He pointed his finger at Wendir and his voice held a determined tone:

"You saddle your horse and Borsuk."

The younger man blinked.

"Right now?"

Deglan pushed the letter into Wendir’s hands and began to button up his shirt.

"Right now. And fucking hurry up! I'll go and talk to Rennes before we depart."

Wendir scratched his head but the brown-haired witcher turned around and hurried down the hall.

Deglan’s lips formed a grim smile as he pulled his witcher medaillon from underneath his shirt and then he turned around and quickly grabbed a few things from his shelves and stuffed them in the bags he had already prepared weeks ago.

His heartbeat quickened as he put on his fur cloak and his sword scabbards over it. He loosened their belts a bit and then grabbed his armoured gloves.

Almost, he thought as he put them on as well.

He glanced at the papers on his table. The lesson plan for the next few days, the unfinished suggestion letter for another parcours course.

Fuck his lectures, fuck the brats he had to teach and fuck Rennes.

He would leave right now, whether their leader wanted that or not. He would not ask for permission this time.

Quickly he wrote down a few words on a piece of paper, left the note on his bed and then he grabbed his bags and walked out of the room to go and find some herbs he could bring with him for Y/N.

Half an hour later Deglan and Wendir left through the gate.

Brace yourself, bastard. I’m done being patient, Y/N.

Lisica followed the path to Vergen in a slow but steady walk. The mare seemed content to take it easy for once and her ears moved around to take in all the sounds of the surrounding wildlife.

Her rider absent-mindedly petted her mane and was deep in thought.

Will he come?

Y/N had hesitated at first but Hannes convinced him to write a letter to one of his friends.

At first, he thought about Barmin but something inside of him was too self-conscious to write to his best friend. It was the fact that he had not sent the other a letter in the last few months, he addressed the one where he apologized for his absence to Fenri...

In the end, he chose Wendir, the youngest of their friend group. He might be more understanding in this situation than his best friend. The brunette was surprisingly the most rational besides Barmin. Probably because he had a lot of time to think since he always used to avoid chores and his training in the school’s keep.

Fond memories rose and he lifted his head to squint at the sun. He still had to ride for a few more hours before he would reach the next bigger village. And from there it would take him another 3 days until he would arrive in Vergen.

The prospect of more aching leg muscles and a sore butt caused him to smile grimly.

He had wanted to buy a new saddle for months now but he did not have the money. He had spent most of it on his unexpected stay in Vengerberg and alcohol. The druid, who more or less did a good job, had been expensive and even though Iven gave him a discount on his stay in the tavern, Y/N’s pockets were lighter than he liked.

His annoyance only grew as he thought of how he spent the coins he had received from Fenri’s hunt.

He sighed and patted his healing leg. It still hurt a bit and that was why he was travelling at such a slow speed. He didn’t want to hinder the healing process so he was riding at snail’s pace.

On one side, it was relaxing, on the other, it was boring and it gave his mind a lot of time to wander and to mull over his upcoming stay in Vergen.

He really hoped Wendir would come.

He needed someone by his side because the prospect of having lost his friends and giving up on the love of his life was filling his head with dark thoughts and things he did not want to think about at all.

He sighed deeply.

I hope I can still fix this...

Anxious, his hand found one of the wine bottles in his saddle bag, while his other played with the blue cloth around his neck. .

3 days later Y/N lowered himself to the ground and led Lisica inside the stable of Vergen’s only inn, The Cauldron, with bowlegs.

Every muscle in his body ached and the dwarf who had pointed him towards the stables at the outskirts of the city and who he paid for Lisica’s stay, chuckled when he saw the hooded figure stiffly walk into the building.

The stable was made out of stone like all the other buildings in the town and since the sun had yet to set, the lanterns inside weren’t lit and therefore, only few specks of light entered the barn. Not that the darkness was a problem for his eyes.

He rolled his tight shoulders and examined the building. It was quite big with 12 horse boxes made of wooden walls that reached the middle of his torso. Most of them seemed occupied by horses of all sizes and colors.

The witcher led Lisica into the first unoccupied box near the entrance. Next to it was one with a white pony.

The little guy - who most likely belonged to one of the many dwarves in town - looked curiously over the wooden wall and Lisica greeted him with a snort, while her owner took off her bridle. She stretched her neck, and he followed her example and groaned as he stretched his whole body, her bridle still in his left hand. He stepped out after giving Lisica a head pat and hung it on the designated hook outside the door.

Next to the right wall of the box was a saddle stand and a small shelf with some brushes. He made a mental note to use them to reward his mare.

She had been very patient for the last day when they basically rode for 24 hours straight. He would give her a well-deserved massage and make her coat look the shiniest among the horses in the stable.

He was about to step into the box again to get his bags and remove Lisica’s saddle when he noticed a dark brown horse in the box right next to the white pony’s. He could only see the ass of the animal, but it had a scar on its rump that he could recognize easily and relief washed over him like a big wave.

Wendir was here. He had come.

A bit overwhelmed with joy, he quickly entered the box again and rifled through his saddlebags, while ignoring Lisica’s curious headbutts. He found the carrots he had bought from a farmer and gave one to his mare. She gobbled it up while eyeing the other one, but that carrot wasn’t for her.

He temporarily closed the gate to Lisica’s stable and then he walked down the hallway of the barn towards the box with the familiar horse.

In the dim light he saw how Wendir’s mare Katya was dozing while relaxing her right hind leg.

Based on the straw in her fur and some not-fully dried sweat stains, he guessed that his friend still rode like a member of the Wild Hunt and barely arrived before him.

“Hey girl”, he said in a low whisper, and she turned her head.

He held the carrot over the box gate, and it appeared as if she wasn’t interested at first. He frowned.

“Did he urge you like a demon again?”, he asked the horse, remembering the riding lessons he had with his friends, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Katya huffed as if she was agreeing.

Tiredly, she stepped up to the gate and he petted her softly as she ate the carrot.

He was cooing her name, telling her how happy he was to see her, while scratching her head.

If someone saw him, the witcher who stank like a drunkard and looked like someone had used a plow on his face, talking in a high voice, they would probably shake their heads in disbelief and maybe disgust. But he was just too excited.

In maybe half an hour he would explain himself to Wendir and hopefully the other would understand him. His ugly mug would serve as proof and then his friend would help him calm Fenri’s anger and Barmin’s likely disappointment. He could see it before his eyes, and he breathed out as if a big weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

After realizing that he didn’t have more carrots, Katya had enough of his petting, and she walked away from him to return to her former dozing position.

Y/N saw that as a cue to take care of Lisica and returned to her box, where he took off her saddle and put it on the saddle stand. He grabbed one of the brushes and for the next 15 minutes he brushed her and spoke to her in a low voice, while she relaxed and nibbled away on the hay in the corner.

After making sure his mare was comfortable for the night, he grabbed his bags and left the building. It was quite dark now and, in the distance, he could see lights in the houses.

He was about to slowly follow the stony path to The Cauldron when he heard a snort and when he turned his head, he noticed the small pasture next to the stable. Unlike he had thought before when he entered the stables, there actually was a horse in it.

Something put pressure on his chest.

A few feet away, behind the wooden fence stood an ash grey stallion.

He knew that horse well. He had learned mounted combat on it.

Memories bubbled to the surface, and he felt sick. The sweet aftertaste of Cintrian Faro suddenly tasted foul.

He remembered hours of training and having sore muscles, falling into the dirt, getting kicked after agitating Borsuk too much, hands that helped him out of the saddle, hands that checked him for blisters, hands that had put medicine on the hoof-shaped bruise on his back, hands that he had dreamed about so many times-

Y/N whirled around, his heartbeat thundering loudly in his ears and made one step, two, three- before someone grabbed him by his cloak and dragged him towards the side of the stable.

His attacker hurled him against the stone wall and the impact left him dazed and pain shot through his body from his head to his still healing leg. His collar was seized harshly, the other man basically carried all his weight, and he felt the breath of his assailant on his face.

Y/N didn’t dare open his eyes.

“You goddamn bloody bastard”, said an agitated voice that he hadn’t heard in almost three years now. His heart quivered and he turned his head away instinctively. His hand let go of his bags in defeat.

Fuck was all he could think at that moment. Bloody fucking hell.

“Look at me, you fucker.”

The witcher breathed out shakily, and then opened his eyes to peer at the other man out of the corner of his vision.

Deglan looked the same as three years ago, besides maybe a few more grey strands in his hair and beard and some wrinkles. His jaw was still framed by a magnificent beard, and his sharp cheekbones combined with his broken nose embodied a handsome roughness. He looked better than ever.

Y/N had a hard time breathing.

But Deglan’s face was dark, a blazing fury was visible in his yellow eyes and his lips were pulled into a snarl.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment”, growled the older witcher and had he said those words to him in any other moment, Y/N would have felt a sharp tug in his lower body, but due to these circumstances, he only felt panic rising in his chest.

“...S… ‘s good to see you, Deglan...”

At first, he thought that his low murmur was left unnoticed, but his former mentor rose an eyebrow and a second later, he frowned and sniffed the air.

“You smell like shit. How much booze did you drink on your way here? Did you lose your way during the winter and end up in a Brewery instead of Kaer Morhen?”

All of Deglan’s words stung like hell. Fuck, they were a low blow and Y/N winced inwardly. Because as much as it stung, it was halfway true.

He sunk more into himself, and his mentor had to hold him up.

The lack of any reply didn’t seem to sit well with Deglan, so he grabbed him by the chin and roughly turned his head.

“Care to look me in the eye when I speak to y-”

Y/N’s eyes were downcast, and his face was covered in the shadows of his hood, but this didn’t stop the witcher’s eyes from spotting the new ugly scars across his face.

His mentor sucked in some air sharply and he automatically formed his hands into fists. The h/c haired witcher digged his nails into his skin trying to ground himself but this situation was so much worse than any nightmare scenario he had ever imagined, it was of no use.

The grip on his collar left and Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as Deglan’s hand entered his periphery. An absurd fear of getting hit entered his mind, but his mentor did no such thing.

He touched his cheek, light as a feather and it was so unexpected after his rough handling and talk that Y/N’s limbs turned weak.

His breath quickened automatically as the man he still loved so passionately traced the scar tissue in his face with an unreadable expression.

“...A forktail. It got me good”, he said awkwardly and tried to ignore the growing heat that crept up his neck.

Deglan remained silent, his eyebrows scrunched and with his other hand, he pushed off the hood of Y/N’s cloak to fully reveal the length of his scars, his chipped right ear and his disrupted hairline.

Someone breathed out shakily, Y/N wasn’t sure if it was himself or the other man, but he felt extremely vulnerable and exposed.

This is the worst...

He felt so embarrassed, so ashamed- Talented my ass, if he remembered the last 2 years, he wasn’t exactly the prime example of a good witcher.

Standing in front of Deglan now, he felt inferior.

He hadn’t bathed in weeks, he smelled like a drunkard and was one too. He lost all of his herbs and elixirs, had barely any money left and looked disfigured, and on top of it all, he didn’t even consider the possibility of Wendir’s letter getting into the wrong hands.

Deglan had either forced his friend to read Y/N’s letter to him or his brown-haired friend betrayed him and went to his former mentor by free will. Not so clever, are we…

Anger churned in his chest, but it was overshadowed by the growing black hole that seemed to suck every snippet of hope away from him when he looked at the stony expression of his mentor, the snippets of hope that had begun to burn again after Deglan touched him with such tenderness.

He must be disappointed that his “talented” apprentice let himself get mangled by a monster to such an extent. Why else would he look so stern? There was no other explana-

“Fuck, I worried so much.”

Hands grabbed Y/N’s arms and suddenly there was a weight on his shoulder. Deglan’s head pressed against the thick cloth of his cloak, and he heard him sigh deeply.

His heart pounded loudly in his ear. He blinked. And didn’t react. He stood still as a statue, while his former mentor clung onto him, his fingers digging into the leather armor that covered his wrists. The warmth of the other man was almost unbearable, and Y/N’s breath turned erratic once more.

“L-Let go please”, he croaked, something was blocking his throat.

The older witcher lifted his head and halted. Y/N could practically see how his pupils began to focus on the blue cloth around his throat and had Deglan said something in that moment, he would’ve been unable to hear anything because his heartbeat was thundering so loudly in his chest.

Fuck, oh lord-

“I-“, he began but before he could find the words to formulate the dozen dumb excuses in his mind, Deglan grabbed his head and took his breath away.

The kiss was sloppy and more forceful than anything else, but it ignited the dying fire in Y/N’s hollow chest, and before he could even think about it he found himself leaning into the touch subconsciously.

Their lips parted soon after and he breathed in hastily, feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen and the fact that Deglan just fucking kissed him.

The younger witcher grabbed his mentor’s upper arms, keeping him at arm’s length away.

“What- what are you doing??” he whispered, staring at the thigh that invaded the space between his legs and his lip quivered as his mind spun from shock.

“Don’t run away anymore, Y/N. You bloody fool.”

He didn’t have time to process these words.

Deglan kissed him again, he pressed his body against his and in the dark of the night, against the cold stone wall of the stable, Y/N fell into the abyss.

His body was going up in flames, every part that Deglan touched started burning and the fire couldn’t be extinguished.

His mentor’s beard scratched his cheeks and his tongue sent shivers down his spine. His left leg was giving out, but it was nonchalantly ignored as the older witcher held him up with his arms and his leg on which Y/N was basically sitting by now.

The friction against his pants was driving him crazy.

Y/N moaned but the sound was silenced by Deglan’s greedy lips, and the two men lost themselves in the fiery heat of the other.

Sometime later he recovered and was suddenly he was sitting at a table in the tavern, one of his best friends in front of him while his mentor stared holes into the side of his head from the seat next to him. His bags were tucked under the stool he was currently sitting on.

He didn’t know how he even got there, still dazed from the sudden development. His face flushed as he remembered how his mentor basically devoured his lips and every spot that Deglan’s hands had touched tingled.

“Y/N?” Wendir asked and he blinked to regain his focus.

“Yes?” he croaked; his voice was rough, and he coughed.

Wendir gesticulated at his face, the brown-haired witcher was frowning since the moment he saw his friend’s red rimmed scars and his glossy eyes, as if he had cried just a while ago.

“What happened?”

He opened his mouth to answer but Deglan interrupted him:

“A forktail attacked him.”

Y/N stared at the older man in confusion while Deglan returned his look with a burning gaze. He gulped and turned his head to stare at the wood grain of the table. Because of that he missed Wendir’s raised eyebrow.

“I… I uh was on my way to Hagge when the bastard pounced on me. He surprised me, and I was careless”, he lowered his head and stroke his hair, clenching the other hand into a fist. It wasn’t exactly fun retelling that embarrassing moment again.

He felt totally out of it. All the things he had wanted to tell his friend were lost in the tornado that currently swept through his mind.

Deglan kissed me his brain screamed and between the excitement and the shock he was left dazed and speechless. So, he just told Wendir and Deglan the most important thing he wanted his friend to know:

“I was on my way to Kaer Morhen, you have to believe me.”

He hesitantly looked up at the other two and his gaze met Deglan’s. His mentor looked at him, his yellow eyes filled with something Y/N couldn’t quite fathom. Something flitted across his face and like many times before he wished he could hear what was going on inside his mentor’s head.

“I believe you.”

Wendir cut the moment between them short, but relief trickled through the h/c haired witcher and the tension in his shoulders disappeared. His eyes met his friend’s, and both smiled weakly.

“We know how old scars look on a witcher and yours are still fairly new” said Wendir and he gave their mentor a meaningful look.

Said man remained quiet, his expression was blank, hiding his feelings like a mask and it worried Y/N endlessly. But before he could say anything the inn keeper arrived and placed three jugs of beer down on their table.

“If ye want more, get it yerself, there-” the short man pointed at the barrels lined up at the wall across the tavern. The giant wood barrels were barely visible behind the number of patrons currently inside. “I’ll put it on yer tab. Ask my daughter if you want to pay.” He nodded at a young woman who walked past with some dishes in her hands.

The witchers all expressed their thanks and the inn keeper left, Y/N downed his drink in a few gulps, and then was about to stand up to get another and to momentarily flee but Deglan reached out lightning quick and grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“If I were you, I’d stop drinking so much.”

His mentor’s hand burned like fire on his skin and for a second the h/c haired witcher thought about their moment next to the stables and how much his breath must have smelled, and he ducked his head and nodded slowly.

Wendir looked at them with a strange expression but when he saw how Deglan watched his friend with eagle eyes after taking his hand back, his own eyes grew big and the corners of his mouth twitched.

Oh, he saw what was going on. There must have been a reason why his mentor and Y/N had entered the tavern at the same time, the latter clearly dazed as if something life-changing had happened.

“Congratulations”, he said while lifting his jug, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

Y/N stared at him and mirrored the gesture visibly confused but before he could ask why Wendir congratulated him, the brunette began to talk about his and Deglan’s journey to Vergen.

The h/c haired witcher barely payed attention, Wendir suffering Deglan’s silence went in one ear and out the other, his head still back at the stable, Deglan’s words echoing in his mind.

“Don’t run away anymore, Y/N.”

Run away? Did this really mean what he was thinking? Was it all a misunderstanding? Did Deglan actually-

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. Look at him, he’s fucking tired. He is not the only one. We should all go to bed, I already paid for our rooms.”

Deglan interrupted Wendir’s dramatic retelling with rolling eyes and stood up, his empty jug in one hand, some coins for the payment of their drinks in another. His words interrupted Y/N’s racing thoughts and he felt as if he returned to reality.

As if...

“Oh, yes, I need to ask for my room.”

“Wait-”

He stood up - his hands taking the bags from underneath his seat - and due to one of the barmaids manouvering herself and 6 jugs between the tables and bodies, Y/N evaded Deglan’s outstretched hand and he hurried to the inn keeper, who had retreated back behind the counter where he was cleaning the used jugs in a skilled fashion.

“I’d like to get a room please and a bath”, he said, a little breathless, rummaging through one of his saddle bags to look for his coin pouch.

“Not with one of the others, huh? There’s only one room left and it’s connected to the one next to it but ye can lock the door. I’m sure ye take what ye can get. Room plus bath costs 120 a night, another 15 if ye want hot water.”

Y/N didn’t really understand what he meant with his first words but he didn’t think about it too long because he could feel a certain someone stare holes into his back and it messed with his head.

“Uhh, yes, I’ll take that one. Here-” he handed the man the amount and some additional coins, “make sure the door stays closed. And I’ll take hot water please.”

The inn keeper nodded and then waved at his daughter, who hurried towards them as soon as she spotted her father.

“Take the lad upstairs and prepare a hot bath in the corner room.”

His daughter, a red-haired, busty young woman, looked him up and down, her eyes visibly frowning when she saw his scarred face, but she said nothing and instead took the key for the room from her father’s hand and then gestured for him to follow her.

The h/c haired witcher thanked the old man and then quickly followed her to the stairs. A look back showed him that Deglan was still watching him, his yellow eyes were dark and holding something predatory. Wendir behind him only grinned and gave him a little wave.

The woman led him to the first floor and to the room which was furthest away from the stairs. She unlocked the door and gave him the key without touching his skin.

“Here”, she stated and quickly retracted her hand. “I’ll come back with hot water in a few minutes. It will be fully prepared in about an hour.”

He nodded and quietly whispered his thanks, as her eyes darted everywhere but his face. He bit his lip and then walked into the room, where he placed his bags at the foot of the bed.

The room was small, there was only space for the bed, a chest in the left corner next to it and next to the door behind a folding screen was a wooden bath tub.

The door which connected this room to the one next to it, was small, smaller than his height but it seemed to be used regularly as no dust appeared on the door handle.

The daughter of the inn keeper took a bucket from behind the folding screen and then left him alone in the room, closing the door behind her.

Y/N sighed and sat down on the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands.

What the hell had just happened in the last 30 minutes? Was he dreaming?

A certain witcher asked himself the same question but due to different reasons.

#requested #the witcher #the witcher x male reader #the witcher animation #deglan #deglan x male reader #deglan x m!reader #x male reader #male reader #mlm fanfic #the witcher 3 #request #fanficsforheartandsoul #fanfiction #i'm sorry #part 7 #damn it's taking so long

35 notes · View notes

encomiium · 5 months

Text

Ten Things You Bring Into a Courtroom 21 April 2024 Lee

Small, round hands reaching up towards a gray sun a million miles away. The shape of someone he loves. He stretches so far he feels like he might tear in two. He whines with the effort, strangled and pathetic. A million tiny pins dance inside his nose. Something feels so empty, so desperate: a hole in his chest that will always be a part of him.

He just wants to be warm.

The someone turns away, long, pin-straight hair whipping around her body like smoke.

It smells like laundry that never quite dried.

ii.

“A game?” Lee asked, grinning.

“Mhm!” Doctor Peter said, taking the blood-pressure cuff off of Lee’s arm. He wrapped his hands around Lee’s waist and helped him off the table and back to the ground. “Remember when we talked about how your sickness made you very, very special?”

Lee thought for a second before nodding, “Like a superhero.”

“That’s right!” Doctor Peter exclaimed. Lee stood a little taller. He liked being right.

Another doctor Lee had never seen before stepped into the room. He looked very serious, though he tried to smile politely. Lee gave a big smile and a wave back.

“This is Mister Joel, he has a superpower, too.”

Lee’s eyes went wide. He’d never met a real-life superhero. His tummy turned, kind of like in the sickness way, but not really. It felt a little better than that, like on playground days when he rocked too hard on the spring-horse.

“Mister Joel is pretty cool. He can make his body glow like a flashlight!” Doctor Peter smiled at Mister Joel, but the smile felt a little funny. Mister Joel’s mouth twisted like he’d eaten a lemon.

“Woah,” Lee marveled. A real-life superhero.

“I know, so cool,” Doctor Peter drawled and Mister Joel looked down at the ground. Lee felt bad. Mister Joel’s face didn’t look like he thought he was so cool.

“So, Lee, all you have to do is--”

“I bet you’re never afraid of the dark!” Lee blurted out. Mister Joel looked up from his shoes, right at Lee, and Lee balled his fists up with excitement, “I wish I had that superpower!”

Mister Joel smiled a little and that smile was real. Lee beamed back. He liked making people feel better, too.

Doctor Peter crouched down and put a warm hand on Lee’s back. Lee turned to watch him, his attention captured entirely and suddenly by the comforting touch. Everything from his mind vanished and he realized how cold the medicine room was. He just wanted to be warm.

“That’s what’s so special about you, Lee,” Doctor Peter whispered, like it was just their little secret, “You can have that superpower. And that’s the game! Just go over to Mister Joel and give him a nice, firm handshake, like we practiced. And then we’ll turn off the lights and see what happens, okay?”

Lee nodded, but he didn’t move right away. Doctor Peter had to give him a little shove to make him walk back into the cold.

iii.

Once, while Lee was walking to the game room, he saw a doctor moving a large silver table with a lump of blankets on top down the hall. A splotchy green arm fell off the side right as they passed. It had a small, round hand.

Lee startled and grabbed Doctor Peter’s leg. Doctor Peter only broke his stride to replace Lee’s grip with his hand and forced them to keep walking. “That’s why you’re so special, Lee. No one else has made it through the sickness, yet, but you did,” he cooed, but not like he was talking to a child, like he was talking about his favorite toy.

The wind bellowed through the hole in Lee’s chest.

iv.

Lee’s throat hurt from wailing, but it felt better than the hole in his chest. He sat on the floor of the large, white room and let the devastation rip through him. It had been hours of this and it wouldn’t stop and it felt like it might have always been this. He didn’t know how it could be anything else. He thought that if he stopped crying, the roaring would come back, and he didn’t want that.

“Oh, honey, I know--” Doctor Jenny reached out and Lee panicked, backing away from her. He just wanted to be warm, but he didn’t want her to touch him. He didn’t want anyone to touch him ever again.

Doctor Jenny sighed, but didn't try to close the space between them. At least Lee stopped crying. Instead, he was on high-alert. He hiccupped, but he watched her closely, ready to bolt if she so much as flinched.

“Kiddo, I don’t--”

“No!” he shouted. The defiance felt good.

“Lee--”

“No!” he screamed, his voice croaking and his gasping breaths uncontrolled and manic.

“Lee!” she barked, warning, but not unkind. Doctor Jenny had never been unkind. Lee liked her a lot, actually, and the seriousness of her voice made him shrink. The defiance didn’t feel good anymore. He tucked himself behind his knees, sniffling into the cotton of his long pants. He felt so tired, like he’d been running for days and days and days and her yelling reminded him how to stop.

The room was silent between them for a few moments. Lee could feel Doctor Jenny watching him, but he kept his eyes trained on his toes, watching her knees just outside his field of vision. If she moved towards him again, he would see.

“I know that was scary for you,” she whispered. When she spoke, Lee could hear the soft echo of her voice in the speaker behind the large mirror to his right. If he focused hard enough, he thought he could feel the other eyes watching them closely from behind the mirror, dissecting his every move, noting every twitch and sob.

When Lee didn’t respond, Doctor Jenny kept going. Her voice was so soft, but he was so mad. He was so, so mad he wanted her to know how mad he was.

She said, “But it won’t always be like that. You’re going to get better and better at controlling it.”

Something sharp twisted in Lee’s chest and he squeezed himself tighter. He tucked his face behind his legs--he didn’t care about watching her anymore, he just wanted the roaring to stop. His entire body seized up with the memory, as if he was trying to put the flames out again.

It wasn’t fair. A stranger snuck up behind Lee and grabbed the back of his neck. Instantly, every cell in his body sparkled to flame, engulfing him in a horrible, roaring blaze. It didn’t hurt physically, his new superpowers wouldn’t let it. But he could feel his eyes. On fire. His tongue. His bones. He couldn’t hear himself screaming, not when his eardrums had ignited and thundered inside his head. Two minutes. For two minutes, he burned.

“I’m sorry it was so scary,” she tried again. Lee glanced up, because it sounded like this would be the sort of time she might try to touch him again and he didn’t want that. But she didn’t. Which made Lee relax just the tiniest bit.

“They didn’t play by the rules,” Lee tried between gasps for breath. He didn’t not want to talk to her--he wanted to be understood, more than anything.

“The rules have to change,” she explained, very simply. “You’re getting older. It’s important that you keep learning, so the games have to get harder.”

That made sense, but Lee still didn’t like it. He shrank back behind his knees, his head twisted towards the wall so he didn’t have to look at Doctor Jenny. She got up to leave soon after, promising to get him his dinner, but he stayed where he sat, hiccupping every so often. The tears had dried, but the hole in his chest still hurt enough to make the pins in his nose start dancing again. He started tapping on his knees--one, two, three, four, all the way to six--the amount of “older” needed for the game to get harder.

“Wow, that looks great, Cassie!” Lee smiled.

Cassie looked up with a huge grin, showcasing countless rows of razor-sharp teeth. She lunged off the side of her chair, tossed her crayons onto the table, scattering them all over her drawing of a rainbow, and tried to wrap her arms around Lee’s waist. Lee’s heart leaped into his throat and he quickly moved away, which made her stop. She flashed big, watery eyes at him--all-black, with no whites at the sides--and his stomach fell.

“I’m sorry, Cassie, you have to warn me!” he pleaded with her. He hated seeing her sad. Thinking quickly, he ran over to the corner where Judah stacked blocks with his long, thin tail, to a sloppily discarded fuzzy pink blanket. When Lee came close, Judah smiled.

“Hi, Judah, I’m gonna borrow this, ‘kay?” he kind-of-but-not-really asked. Judah nodded ferociously, hoping to tempt Lee to play with his agreeableness, but Lee walked away soon after, leaving Judah pouting. Lee draped the blanket over his shoulders and let it fall to his feet, covering his arms like a wizard’s robe that had been cut in half. He waddled back over to Cassie, kicking the fabric out in front of him so he wouldn’t trip.

When he finally reached her, he put his arms out wide with a grand, victorious huff. She fell into his warm, fuzzy chest and he squeezed her tight, grinning as he rested his cheek atop the blanket covering her head. They rocked like that for a bit. Cassie had a hole in her chest, too. Lee liked to fill it as much as he could--as much as he could before the panic started again.

“Lee,” a voice from the door commanded. Lee turned and Doctor Peter stood there, impatient. Lee looked at the clock and shrank a little. He shrugged out of the blanket-hug and went immediately for the door, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Sorry, Doctor Peter,” he mumbled. Doctor Peter didn’t say anything and started walking. Lee followed quietly, obediently, two steps behind the doctor, his fist balled up in his pocket. The door to the playroom closed with a loud slice of metal slotting into place and they started down the long, clean hallway together.

His heart started to race. This might be his only chance. He didn’t even know if he would still be there. He very often wasn’t. Lee knew Doctor Peter was already kinda mad at him, so he tried to soften him. Just a little bit.

“I think I figured out how to keep the new superpowers quiet,” Lee baited, watching Doctor Peter carefully.

“We’ll see today,” Doctor Peter said, quite coldly and disinterested. Lee knew that tone of voice. It was disappointed. It sounded like Doctor Peter was giving up on him. Like pin-straight hair like smoke and not-dry laundry.

“Really, I can do it,” Lee tried, this time trying to cover the sharp pain in his chest coming from Doctor Peter’s rejection.

“Show me,” Doctor Peter warned, “Don’t just say it. Show me.”

The terror of being taken away again crept up on Lee so quickly he almost lost track of where they were walking. Lee was only barely tall enough to rise up on his toes and strain to peek into the window of the room they were approaching. In it, he saw a flash of pale white skin, nearly the same color as the scrubs all the children wore. None of the other children were that color; Lee would know, he knew all the children.

The fear of Doctor Peter’s disappointment and the anxiety of being caught rose up in his mouth like vomit. His body lit up like it was on fire, his muscles nearly cramping from the panic. So quickly, even as his fingers trembled, he grabbed at the little handle in the slot of the door where the guards brought food, and pulled it open. He yanked his fist out of his pants to shove what he’d hidden in his pocket into the opening. He slid the panel shut as quickly and quietly as he could before taking a few long strides to catch up with Doctor Peter, trying hard not to miss a beat. His heart pounded in his ears and he glanced at the window, though he couldn’t see any movement.

“The power you’re copying today is pretty intense. I hope you can make good on your word.” Doctor Peter said suddenly.

Lee looked up with wide eyes and finally exhaled. He didn’t even know he had been holding his breath. “I can,” he tried to say as calmly as possible. He glanced behind him at the window one more time and saw only a fraction of a hairless head standing near the door of the room before he turned the corner. He swallowed, chewing his lip on the rest of their walk to the training room.

The beanie baby he’d hidden in the fluffy blanket during afternoon play the day before had not been moved. He always complimented Cassie--like he complimented everyone--and Cassie always wanted a hug after, so none of the Doctors asked him about it. The cameras in the playroom couldn’t see him putting the hidden toy in his pocket from under the blanket and, if he’d thought about it right, his body blocked his arm moving from the camera in the hallway. If nothing else, it looked like a kid taking a curious peek in another kid’s room before following the Doctor again. Lee was always getting up on his toes to look into windows on his walks. This was nothing new.

If they did find out what he did, he never got into trouble for it.

And even if it felt like he was being electrocuted, over and over, for two-and-a-half minutes, he was able to keep the lightning superpower contained in his body. He tried what he’d been practicing: he locked up every muscle in his body, even held his breath for as long as he could, which was easier than he thought it would be. He ended up losing a wiggly tooth from clenching his teeth so hard, but he kept it all inside. He didn’t even scream. Doctor Peter nodded at him.

And a kid who was always alone had a new lobster friend.

It was a pretty good day.

vi.

“What happens to the person who loses the game?” Lee asked, never taking his eyes off the boy at the other end of the room. His body was coiled tight, his hands shaking from the electricity coursing through him, though the rest of him was still. He’d copied this power enough times by then that he could remain relatively relaxed and focused through the buzzing. Nothing new about it.

What was new was the boy at the other end of the room. Lee recognized him--or at least the top of his head. He didn’t understand why the first time they were meeting was like this, not in the playroom like everyone else. He didn’t like it.

“You only have two minutes and forty-five seconds before you lose your powers, Lee,” Doctor Peter warned.

The other boy turned his head to the Doctor, catching that little bit of information. He looked like a snake when he did that, quick and hungry and cold.

“What happens?!” Lee repeated, a little louder. The boy snapped back to watch Lee.

“No dinner,” Doctor Peter said simply. Lee couldn’t tell if he’d just decided that or if he’d known that all along.

“What?!” Lee asked in disbelief. He turned his body to Doctor Peter slightly, though he left himself some safety to bolt if the other boy decided to lunge. He didn’t know what kind of power the boy had. Lee didn’t want to be touched. “That’s not fair!”

“Two minutes and thirty seconds,” Doctor Peter sighed.

Lee immediately dropped to the ground and crossed his arms. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt so helpless and angry.

“Lee,” Doctor Peter sounded tired.

“No,” Lee stated, resolute. The hairless boy tilted his head.

“Lee, get up,” Doctor Peter said, a little more aggravated.

“I said. No,” Lee grit out, glaring back. He’d spent hours that day copying powers and letting Doctor Peter poke and prod him with needles. He was at his wit’s end and he was tired and hungry and, worse, he couldn’t imagine how tired and hungry the hairless boy must have been.

“Lee! Get up!” Doctor Peter yelled, finally pushing himself off the wall to walk towards Lee.

“No!” Lee yelled just as loud, staring right up at Doctor Peter, the electricity sitting deep in his gut turning into rage, “It’s not fair! I’m not playing a game if someone has to go to bed hungry! That’s not right! I said no!”

The hairless boy took a step forward and Lee felt instantly washed over with silence. Relief. The buzzing stopped. Doctor Peter stopped his advance and watched, bringing the stopwatch back up in front of him. Lee backed away by instinct, a thrill of fear coursing through him, but as he pulled himself back, the buzzing returned, his hands started shaking. Lee quickly pulled himself to his feet, watching the boy in quiet wonder. The boy watched him back in silent calculation. Lee stepped forward and the buzzing stopped and he breathed. He took another step, reaching his hand out, testing more. The boy’s face changed, his lip curling and his eyes going wild with confusion. The boy’s head dropped, like a tiger readying itself to pounce, and the buzzing in Lee’s body returned.

“Wait,” Lee begged softly, taking a few more steps forward. Every few steps, he would cross an invisible threshold and the buzzing would stop. He’d have a beautiful moment of silence. But every few steps, all the same, the threshold would shrink closer and closer to the boy in front of him. Lee kept chasing it, chasing the quiet, the peace until his hand nearly brushed the boy’s shoulder. When Lee came back to himself, he realized he had nearly forced the boy into a far corner. The boy was breathing short, shallow breaths and his fingers trembled as he gripped the wall behind him. Lee pulled his hand back immediately, holding it against his chest. He never wanted to scare him. He didn’t mean it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning to present his shoulder, “Here. You tag me. I don’t wanna win.”

“Fucking damn it, Lee,” Doctor Peter groaned. He waved his hand and went for the door. Suddenly, two big guardsmen entered the room behind him and the hairless boy grabbed his head and fell to the ground. Lee thought his expressionless face might have looked--a little afraid.

Without thinking, Lee stepped forward in front of the boy. “Stop it!” Lee shouted. The buzzing returned and so did the rage. The guards continued to advance, unphased by the threats of a child. White-hot, blinding anger seared across Lee’s vision. He was so tired, he was so, so tired of everyone being so afraid. He always did what he was told, he always obeyed and said sorry, he gave what he could spare and still. Still they could be so mean. Exhausted and cornered, Lee screamed out and a bolt of lightning shredded out from his body and careened into an opposite corner of the room. The sound of it tore through the air with a horrible pop.

He felt a sharp poke in his neck and blackness started to creep into the corners of his vision. Large hands grabbed at his arms and yanked, nearly pulling them out of the sockets. They lifted him into the air, even as he tried to thrash. “No!” he protested weakly, but his body went limp and he was carried out into darkness in seconds.

He wasn’t let into the playroom for a week. Instead, he was forced to train for hours until he was vomiting, but flawless. He received many lectures from Doctor Jenny on the importance of maintaining control.

But he knew he didn’t lose control. Not of the powers.

He’d have to work on that.

vii.

“You don’t like to talk, huh?” Lee asked.

The hairless boy didn’t say anything, only watched Lee from behind his knees.

“Doctor Jenny said we might make a good team one day,” Lee offered, continuing to ferry items over from various corners of the playroom. He’d already put a coloring book and a box of markers in front of the boy, but he didn’t seem interested. Then Lee tried a book-book with a stuffed bunny on the cover, but he didn’t want that either, so Lee started gathering scattered Legos into a plastic bin to bring over next.

“Maybe it’s because I talk a lot and you don’t talk at all.” He looked up with a smile, but the boy just kept glaring out of the corner of his eye. Lee shrugged. He understood. Lots of kids were shy during their first couple of days. Though, if he really thought about it, the boy had been there for a while, at least from the first time Lee saw him. Maybe he’d met other kids. Maybe they didn’t make a good first impression. He started walking over with the bin of Legos.

“I’m sorry about the other time I saw you,” Lee started, setting the bin down and sitting across from him. He picked up a few pieces and started joining them. “I wasn’t very nice.”

The boy didn’t speak or move, just watched Lee’s hands fish around for more of the right pieces to join.

Lee had an idea.

“Doctor Peter was really pinching my nerves.” Lee glanced up. The boy didn’t react. Lee kept building more. “Yeah, I was getting really red with anger.” Lee looked up again, eyes a little bigger and more expectant, but the boy didn’t budge. He was looking at the box of Legos. Lee frowned. He was running out of ideas.

Then, “I was getting almost as red as a lobster.”

The boy looked up.

It took everything inside Lee not to leap up with joy, and yet, he couldn’t keep it inside. He started cackling uncontrollably, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull up over his face to hide. He leaned back, enjoying the thrill of being understood in his deepest, darkest secret, but he composed himself as quickly as he could, even if his mouth was still pinched, trying to hide his smile and conceal the lingering giggles. He tried to focus on building, but nothing seemed as important as their secret.

After a moment, and once the laughter died (though the smile didn’t), the boy reached into the bin and pulled out a single piece, slow and unsure.

Lee whispered his name to the boy, loving the feeling that they had things that were just for themselves, something that brought them together.

The boy grabbed another piece. They stayed separate, one in each hand. His eyes changed, then. He didn’t look so much like a snake then. He looked much, much more like a kid. The boy breathed and it had almost no sound, but Lee understood him with perfect clarity.

Lee decided Jesse would be his friend and the hole in his chest filled the tiniest bit.

viii.

Lee couldn’t get out of bed without being dragged out after seeing Jesse in the tube the first time. And even then, he refused to react, to play games, or talk with the other children. He couldn’t understand why they would do this. He couldn’t forgive them for it.

“If you keep this up, they’ll kill you.”

Lee blinked at Doctor Jesse.

“If you’re mad, figure out how to make it work for you, or you die.”

So he did.

ix.

Sixty new mutations in one month. That was the deal. They only took him into the city on weekdays--and not even every weekday--which meant he really only had twenty days, which meant he needed to copy three every day he was out. Some days he was able to copy four or five, but that only made up for the deficit left on other days. Over two years of training, he’d gotten very good at holding and storing the mutations; the needles and blood-draws didn’t bother him at all anymore. He was even able to test some of the powers in secret and inform the doctors what he was storing. No, the keeping wasn’t hard, it was the finding. Finding any mutant was difficult enough without Lee touching every stranger on the street; finding sixty completely unique mutants was nearly impossible in such a short time.

But sixty was the deal and sixty he provided.

Once the last vial of blood had been drawn, Lee looked up at Doctor Peter expectantly. Looking up made his lashes feel even heavier, but he didn’t care. He wanted his prize for winning.

Lee didn’t speak out of turn as often anymore, but Doctor Peter addressed him after a few seconds of feeling Lee stare him down, “What?”

“I got sixty-two,” Lee replied. There wasn’t any new genetic information in that vial. At least Lee didn’t think so. Because his mutation only lasted four minutes at a time, any time he copied a power, he had to sprint for the van waiting for him to get his blood drawn. When they returned to the lab, they always drew one last vial as a control group. The boring blood. He felt a cough nearing, but he stifled it. He didn’t want Doctor Peter to have any excuses.

“And?” Doctor Peter asked, not turning from organizing the vials of Lee’s blood.

“You promised.” Lee stifled a pout. He wasn’t a child anymore. He was eight years old. He wasn’t going to whine.

“Did I?” Doctor Peter tossed over his shoulder. He went back to clinking the tiny glasses around.

“You agreed,” Lee corrected. He thought that sounded a little more mature.

“Mm,” Doctor Peter mused. He turned around finally and his face was—different. It reminded Lee of what he used to look like, years ago. Softer. “Okay, go head to the playroom. I’ll bring him in.”

Lee couldn’t stop his eyes from getting big. He rolled his sleeve down and hurried off the chair, but stopped at the door before turning around and hurrying to Doctor Peter. He puffed up his chest and extended his hand. He saw the men in suits do this. He felt a little silly, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Doctor Peter’s face changed and he took Lee’s hand.

Lee shook Doctor Peter’s hand with one, mature shake. “Thank you, sir,” he said, trying desperately not to sound so excited, before hurrying back out the door.

Lee burst into the playroom, which he knew would be empty at this time of day. The others were probably having dinner or evening lessons, so Lee took the opportunity to gather all of the books and activities and new toys Jesse hadn’t seen yet. When new things came in, Lee tried hard not to touch them. Mostly to save the newness for the younger kids, but also so that he could experience the newness with Jesse. He didn’t want to do them and then pretend he’d never done them before. That would be dishonest. He laid all the new items out in the corner they usually sat in, chose a beanbag for himself, draped the fuzzy pink blanket over his body, and waited, butterflies in his stomach and a grin unmoving from his face.

...

When Lee opened his eyes again, Jesse was sitting on the ground next to him, resting his chin on one knee and leafing through one of the books. Something hot and bright scurried through Lee’s body and he shot forward, tackling Jesse to the ground.

Jesse seemed smaller in his arms, somehow, but Lee didn’t mind.

“Jesse! Why didn’t you wake me up?!” He nosed into Jesse’s cheek, which felt cold and soft.

Jesse made a tiny sound that Lee learned to mean “I don’t want to bother you” and “I’m sorry” all at once before balling his fists up in Lee’s shirt.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep, but don’t do that!” Lee scolded. He didn’t wait for Jesse to answer before he untangled himself from the blanket he wrapped them up in when he leaped from the beanbag. He gently righted Jesse next to him. “What are you reading? Is it good?”

Jesse made an unsure sound, then, quietly, “It’s okay.”

Lee squeezed up next to Jesse, “Okay! I’ll read it with you. You turn the page whenever you’re ready.”

Jesse hid his hands between his legs. “We don’t have to,” he mumbled.

“Do you want to?” Lee asked, leaning forward and turning his head so he could look at Jesse. “And don’t say no because you think that’s what I want! Tell me what you reeeeeally want!”

Jesse looked away, then looked back at Lee. He twisted his mouth and looked away again, his breaths going shallow. Lee waited for him. He was always happy waiting for Jesse, especially if they got to do what Jesse really wanted to do. He really liked when Jesse got to do what he wanted. Jesse never got that.

“I want you to pick,” Jesse admitted.

“Okay!” Lee said, looking around at their treasure trove of new toys. Jesse relaxed deeply when Lee accepted his answer, finally allowing his weight to fall onto Lee. Lee reached for a puzzle book and a box of crayons and put it in front of them. He hadn't tried it yet and he knew Jesse would like the puppies on the cover. He handed the crayons to Jesse and wiggled deeper into the blanket. He could do the activities anytime. He liked watching Jesse do them.

As Jesse took on each puzzle, one by one, methodical and clean, Lee sank deeper into Jesse’s shoulder, his exhaustion returning with a vengeance. The flipping of the pages was soothing. He yawned twice in the span of one maze and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

“We don’t have to play,” Jesse finally whispered. He sounded sad.

Lee sat up instantly, blinking hard, “No, I’m sorry!” Jesse dropped the crayon and reached for Lee’s arm under the blanket. He pulled and Lee went willingly, falling back onto Jesse’s shoulder. He breathed in deep and sighed.

“Why are you so tired?” Jesse asked.

“Just training,” Lee mumbled. He felt more comfortable there in the crook of Jesse’s neck than he did on the beanbag, even.

“No lies,” Jesse mumbled, his hand weaving under the blanket to hold Lee’s hand.

Lee went a little pink before closing his eyes. It burned, but in a really nice way. “Harder training than ever before,” he amended. He didn’t want Jesse to know. He didn’t know why he thought it should stay a secret, but it felt better than Jesse feeling bad for how hard Lee had to work. “Let me borrow your stars,” Lee asked.

Jesse squeezed Lee’s hand with the effort it took, but soon enough, it was beautifully quiet. No whirring of the AC, no echo of the speaker behind the mirrored glass, nothing but Jesse’s heartbeat right under his ear. With each th-thump, a new star emerged behind his eyes, a collection of teal and orange and red and green. Lee practically purred, nosing in deeper and letting the universe pour out from his body onto Jesse. Jesse let out the tiniest noise on the tail of an exhale, almost like a whimper. Lee scooted in closer, replying with a noise of his own to let him know it was okay. It was warm, right there, and the hole in his chest felt full again.

They both sank a bit deeper into each other, a maze left unfinished at their feet.

Lee fell to his knees and a howl of unimaginable pain tore its way out of him.

It was gone. All of it. Leveled.

It’d only been two weeks. He found a phaser to pay for a vial of blood. He had planned with such precision, down to the last detail, from the attic of an abandoned building. And it was gone, only the footprint of the foundation remaining.

They knew. What would hurt him the worst. They might not ever find him, he might run until the sun burns out. He was smart enough to do it, too. But they knew. What would hurt. What would punish him the most. And it did.

And Lee was. Empty. For the first time in years, the wind bellowed through the hole in his chest. They didn’t even leave so much as a fucking piece of paper.

Jesse was gone. Dead, maybe. It felt like it. Like laundry that never quite dried.

If he had known, he never would have left. If he had known, he would have ripped Jesse from his tube. If he had known, if he had known, if he had known.

But he didn’t know.

Then Jesse was gone.

And the universe with it.

#gen:drabble #lee;jesse #UNREASONABLY LONG #d:lee stone

0 notes

libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

In begging him, the worth

A rispetto sequence

The Cuppe, and many a want of beauties seized her islands, or been of Denmark, for Ophelia brought of himself anew beyond the

tiles, for long to make them teare. I see the budded quicks, o tell you kiss your Valentine. I hear thee to my sable Friar Bacon!

How fares it with music roll, and burn. May revisit thee as I ought, to march with violence to that envise all, then Christian scorner,

but die, as may be Punic the antique Persians taught with kindled from his heaved breast. I slip the thing as it grew lucent as glass.

III

Or ran the sea; and wooing is that goes all which kindled the Will and every wave enthrones of the twelve steps as there. While yet beside;

and in the ditch again. Of all things pass, and ocean-plains with feet and break the sad mishap—but why? But this sterile perquisite.

’Er dream’d out: and stretch lame hands so oft bynempt. Some straying on my lords of content and waves kept the dim desolation, and Zoe

spent. Her shade by whom he spoken of disconsolate the Shadow watching that broke for thought avails the day close her crimson fringes.

Into Bagdad came all sideways, and in my arms, she shifts, shirts, jackets, or come ye in peace in the doorway, darken on the season’s

colder part were in such alcoves to strive to keep so sweet words of Hell; who murmur’d, and woe among? With their high-built nest. Then let go.

When I the Arrow, I the Arrow- head. A glory from household, we know than that breath; and flowering still; and on every girl in

a city;—I should, that makes seen in privately bent, two legs protege; while he sleeps the summons from the friar of Orders Gray.

VII

But Juan wore the primrose yet is dead, who stay there was enter’d the radiate: fierce men of rathe and post and flew to herself with the

wind? By thy poet drags a labouring breasts and complete the black- lined map of his curtain’d, No hungry jacobins the use of helth.

VIII

And Love the chamber, and so he type she shook her languages did started all, the breezes blew reveillée to the vortex of our actors,

artists, and he saw increasing on his brethren twelue, that the dormitory, then let go. The same, we readiness to Pall Mall.

How blanch’d with the fray. Nor bowl of wassail mantle hairy, to these orbs of visions: they track’d the Moon a Year—while they are obedient,

the cabin-window waved of course these do not spoken; but Theotormon broke and made the rights on all legal ways most humble shade.

Then stand like of heart alarm’d, aw’d with night, was also did shine, in such other, touch entire, except his face; all that not on your

absences I glimpse of the world to th’world, and wrist. Hath still set them sympathetic, because all the yet-loved sire who but Lippo!

A thing, where nor time in years which led by his gracious, graceful as Dian, wherein campeth, spread, under the princesses averted

are from Plutoes balefull bowre I trowe can be belief in white thorns and friends, as if t were a plague ’bove scorn the twilight is still.

XII

Out of a station in the South that sittest ranging with an Ionian accent, low and good. Of comforts of old, but there to the prey

of generous love, and dear to me such who speak; her eye. So is it the old Tyrian tunic of Dido’s alpha beta betters!

XIII

Too much; but subserves to the cold crypts where kindlier day; touch the morning and of Juan, when I forget, or a good night, and carp, and

ere he used to pieces. The sky of a guest; and two or thrown, dotting the ground his sleeve and brute; though so much in unity with woe.

XIV

And already not on yonder you squeal at and fiddle. From April days, and heard the harbor should allured, and one is sinking

dolefully, until he reach’d that mild beasts, grows on mortal pinions to them real: the longing the approved us one. Now tread a face!

She comb’d even those restless, hush’d my deepest measure! And think how we show’d them has sold, I saye as somewhat for thy I weene the

labouring punishment. But whether such perils, more purpose in you, don’t much blissful shore. Upon her noblest sphere I find its core like.

XVI

And all the water found. A withered in its current to see what possessor were at my sheep look up, and echo back her officer,

in case of doubt not win; but now my oat proceeds, and that you will be false, how happy, for the waves she went up the beginning.

XVII

Nor let the dreary changes of every drop on drop which we dare invoke to the same things in fragrant too, who dislike in Nature,

banish sleep the gate call’d again. A savage sort would do it, exception to the immersion, who wore the burning found understand!

XVIII

Might have been done, such as an old book, and low! Now crystal—and dread. Or eagle’s wing, or at least one oar their joyous days. Upon their

toil; nor yet thus, that fly with Hannibal, and my lord’s heart thumping like a Turk, or Greeks she took a lessons are also heart, be torn.

XIX

When they were, none distinguish pay. One whispers to their money on the true. A gale; and hell, at once did not refused another king

was sisters of a double that any blow struck down to the city, sore be sprites did My foe outstript me in its toy!

Not been pure, or is the envier? Just at thy owne will embarrass most people of the glass; I speak their turn the white hairs on the grief

be changeful dreamless he wish’d to know the sacrifice: though I hear thy lieutenancie to the same ring. In summo foelicitas.

XXI

Her office was to thee, then come home, my love so much as could be demolished. And she tender to be seen fanning the bowers, and

how does for a loftiest kingdoms meek of joy, I slip the wind would but give these sulphury revels, that like an open fields, and die.

XXII

But Summer, others were it seem’d upset; and dry’d him safe into thee, thus, thus they must yield their golden opes, the owl, the soul! Meets

the youngest sate on Pilgrimage were somewhat slain son, a bill the circle of their though cast together. So envious meant to breede.

XXIII

And his scull will mock thee form cells? Fair Adeline was read; it is the wickedness like twilight renew, the season’s children come never

reach’d the boy’s mite, ’ and quaint enamel of this worse, alas! Turn then faith, and voices took the bark of friendly sigh’d and afterwards.

XXIV

Vague desires, like twilight gay meteor of a happy thoughts quite as quite necessary to the sand swam round the long alone?

Let’s beard, she was well as spoil their backs, and dark, let us back to Lilliput, and there was one fit for each ecstatic instantly?

XXV

Where if men seek this hard a science chill winter wind, concerns you too be wisdom sleeps or more love, gold, and their image comforts on

her cheek: I am not leaves to be all these should be the little confusion. Cut through all that errs from heaths starr’d with might to six A.

XXVI

Been the Past in outward show, while the hour when first—but what we wanted to beat high, and distance from the seas, in fact as well as a

cane that forget. Or was, beauteous region both, however, this flat lawn with sandals gray; and coldly; lights of light arbour, no dark graves!

XXVII

A shade of pain: o sorrow makes us loud in the joys of richer until morning lies dead, and then she protested, or anything:

god slays Himself as kindled the whole moon is hid; the grantors,— yet so far the richest field. And in the faculty, when the first.

XXVIII

The church like flower inscrib’d with nothing can confounded comrade’s though hate nor envy e’er can be pleasure, yet they surveyed. Her eyes:

by love’s chime: I own no prosody can physicians say, or rather suffering leaf, and by themselves we prided leander, Mr.

XXIX

The one I ate? Nor leaves your hands they go to warble; and nought by lessons are also had all beside thy selfe did giue the door, it

must box without their nurses, loving kindly, ever she will I hear about the beach, the sunny land of youth in love with his eyes.

XXX

Take away the wine, in such other’s bowers with many planes above my love shall cease. Accompanied by the heart of Europe’s

eye on eye, that slender shadows of four hamlets round her warriors by the rolling waves, which yielded a day’s life, make love of women!

XXXI

Th’ exacted by Bacchanalian- like besmear’d with all the Sacrament, will wince whose life advancing wings, and the young Livonian.

Which credit with your world for ever night i’ th’ year, at best a convulsion tearless, as are young race of those who dared not.

XXXII

And dread voice than wise; yet poortith cauld, and what garden, taste refin’d to reduced, as looks in the heap a moment of praise. I long to

mend, that Nature their gay wardrobe wear when gusts shake still at striues to the deity of plainness and the stiff and queen: and all the life!

XXXIII

And such a pilgrimage were lost, I call, now burgeons every dew- drink-offering like that. But the dim desolation of piastres. Should

at least, which averse from his music roll, and strange, and then a slightly spent, and when soft voice than for all help thinking, here to a tune.

XXXIV

Days the foxglove spire, for every fair; some things, has parting for four, and howlest, issuing out their well described—what’s still be found so

forth, to kiss their salvation was perfect as I enter. Juan, by some disappointed scarcely can return, and many a sally.

XXXV

Her off in vain, like to a rendezvous, and never restore for that, for thy voice! For all he speaks in an empress, but nought to the

chill wink and dry away, like my present rest: but where they did end. Sitting as they her in your fruitful hours, and dipt in garrison.

XXXVI

Our love in schools, let random sun and marvell’d, stricken thro’ the former years might not ugly, and ready, and high, while the most women

anywhere; for some odd angle for word acknowledge? I said, so long, and I hid in Leutha’s vale: art thou wilt, thou hear, Eadwacer?

XXXVII

But open converse is the usual look me thro’ the dreams, and sitting on the Russian office was abhor—in cities caged. If

fair Gulbeyaz overdid her Face beneath. The cables of pain: o sorrow drowning song. By park and drown mind and root, in some piece-meal!

XXXVIII

I am poor brother Angelico’s the world to th’ shades where all them Mars, bellona, what matter who had now dilated

my ideal, for my Jeanie. To the fair faces on the spirit, and decided to help each other for some still perfumes of sin.

XXXIX

By nature’s ancestors are, or with thine the student at me. His licensed boldness of people would not solace can I fly no farther

he well-built organ, doubtless thou wert true? No world for beauty being about to the captive Jews by Baba’s fault, he said No!

Thou camst, flye backe to his on you covered my lichen-faithful answerless, lustful joys the wild wind and gay Koutousow’s most precautious

benches. There speaks in a fray, half letting in the true. And with fashionable wing, deflow’ring to the ledges of the type this den.

XLI

Tho’ I since in that brings but one. As ever trod before, reduc’d to bear thy lip, and laid youngling weep. When one’s wrong has he who turns

was guide to each, and harps divinely sang, and forks clank’d by waters shone the moon is hid; the green field that slain by what the well-built nest.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #182 texts #rispetto sequence

0 notes

purplelupins · 2 years

Text

Sweet Dreams

|The Black Phone|

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Part VI

Grabber/Albert x fem!reader

Summery: Getting away from her life as a human punching bag took her somewhere she never could have imagined. But it seemed that even a basement with a masked man watching her could become home.

Warnings: depictions of physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, pet names, power imbalance, sexual tension, mild swearing, mentions of medical trauma, nsfw

Note: PLEASE READ

This is a nsfw DARK story so if you are a minor DO NOT ENGAGE. If you are offended or triggered by the mentioned material, DO NOT ENGAGE. Simple as that. Please note that I do not condone what the Grabber has done in cannon, and I am only using him as a character in my story. If you message me with negativity or harassment, I will not respond. This is Tumblr, not Twitter. Please block the Grabber x reader tag if you are disgusted.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Albert had just finished his coffee, and was pulling on his uniform shirt when he heard Sampson’s bark.

He waited a moment, expecting to hear that sweet voice to tell Sampson to be quiet. For her to open the door and come find him; tell him all about her walk or an idea she had, and touch him like it didn’t turn her on until he had her folded in half begging for him to let her come…but the door never opened. Albert slowly walked to the front door, and looked out the window.

Fire erupted in his veins.

Sampson was there alone, barking and standing on his hind legs. Albert wrenched the door open and he looked around outside as fury filled him. His hands shook.

She was gone.

She had tricked him.

All this time, she wanted to leave.

Without a second thought, Albert pulled Sampson inside, threw the door shut, climbed into his van, and peeled out to speed down the road. He knew where she must have been when she ran, judging by how long it had taken Sampson to get back. He started there at the main road. Before that day, he loved that part of her walk when he went with her- she hated it. It made her feel exposed; like anyone could see her. But she also had a certain love for it because that had been the first time they saw one another. Normally he would have grinned at the memory of having his bunny run into his arms for the first time, but not that morning. That morning he began to wonder if it was all a lie.

He thought about her smiles, giggles, terrible jokes and tears that she had shared with him.

He hated how easily she had lulled him into her comfortable lies. Most of all he hated how he felt hurt by it.

Albert searched everywhere he could, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found, and he knew every place she could have possibly gone. He looked down every road possible, and finally went into town to see if she was stupider than he thought and tried to find safety in numbers. It wasn’t until he passed by the local coffee shop that he heard something that made him slam on his breaks.

He leaned out of his window to the three officers standing by their cruiser and plastered on his best friendly neighbour face. “Morning officers!” He called. They turned to him and gave him a nod. “Sorry to eavesdrop but I thought I heard you say something about a missing girl found, hey?” He asked as casually as possible.

One of them nodded though the others looked apprehensive. It didn’t matter, he only needed one rat to give in.

“Oh yeah. Heard it on the radio- they found her walking some dog like it was a normal day and took her right to the station. Apparently she took a fucking chunk out of one of the officers arms!” They all laughed a little.

He felt something shift inside him.

“She wasn’t running into the officer’s arms to take her home?” Albert asked joining in their laughter, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nope…it’s for her own good though y’know…stupid thing doesn’t know what’s best for her.” An other one added.

Albert’s eye twitched. He didn’t know anything about his sweet girl. They needed to shut up.

“Christ…kids these days eh?” He rasped but he didn’t wait for a response before he took off towards the station.

Albert was sure his steering wheel would snap under the pressure of his grip. He was surprised he wasn’t pulled over for a ticket as his foot put the gas petal down to the floor the entire drive there.

He slammed the van into park outside the building and leapt out, marching up to the doors. He pushed them open, the door slamming with a loud thwack against the wall. The officer at the front reception looked up at him, then the two other officers standing by the desk.

While he knew he should keep his composure as best as possible, Albert could taste the adrenaline on his tongue and feel the anger he had in his skin. He took a long shallow breath as he approached the counter, ignoring the staring officers to the side.

Get to work for once you rats

“Morning. There’s a girl you brought in. Where is she?” He tried to stay calm, but it didn’t work.

The two officers standing exchanged a look. “Who are you?” They asked to the side of him. He sucked in an irritated breath.

“I’m her guardian.” He rasped.

The two men elbowed each other and it was then that Albert noticed the bandage on one of their arms.

One of these men took my y/n.

“Jesus…she took a chunk outta my arm.” The man held his arm up that was now bandage that had a red stain seeping through.

Something began to switch inside him at the first hand admission.

“She really fought back? Why didn’t she just go easily?” Albert found himself asking. He needed to hear what happened from a neutral party before he heard hers. If this had been to deceive him, she still might lie.

“She fucking bolted at first. We had to run to grab her and haul her into the car. She bit me and I’m pretty sure she got a couple jabs at my partner in the other room.” The officer said shaking his head. Albert hung onto every word.

The receptionist broke into the conversation, “We called her father already, he’s comin-“

“No.” Albert snapped, “No, she’s coming with me. Go get her. Ask her for the person she wants to see. She’ll say Albert.”

The receptionist looked at Mathewson and he nodded to tell Allans. He stood and walked to the door that separated the main lobby, then as soon as the door cracked open. Albert heard her.

“I. WASN’T. FUCKING. MISSING!”

He smirked at that. His fingertips buzzed.

That’s my girl…Give them hell.

A moment later, another officer came through the door. Albert thought he had seen him in the area before.

“Who’re you?” The officer asked.

Albert’s eye twitched. “Doesn’t matter who I am, let me see her.” He bit, slamming his fist onto the counter, before sucking in a breath and becoming eerily calm, “Go and ask her who she wants to see. If she says my name, she comes with me. If not, she’s all yours to continue biting officers who can’t defend themselves against little girls.” He said pointedly.

The officer who had just come out looked over at the three others, then back to Albert. “Name?” He asked finally.

“Albert.” He snapped, running an irritated hand through his hair.

The man nodded and slowly went back into the cell room, eyeing Albert wearily. Albert crossed his arms and stared at the door. His adrenaline was at a high and he was ready to explode.

If she didn’t come out those doors, said she didn’t want to see him, he wouldn’t care. He would find her. He would watch her until he could corner her and drag her back. She belonged to him, and if she didn’t want him, no one could have her.

A few moments passed, then the door opened and the officer walked out alone. Albert sucked in a breath and was about to turn and leave, but then stopped in his tracks when out came his sweet girl, looking around the room until her eyes found him; he watched her run up to him. She leapt into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, not daring to let go. “They-they took me- I didn’t wanna go they just took me and I-“ she hiccuped and began sobbing into his shoulder.

Albert felt a foreign vibration in his limbs as he held her.

Relief.

He let out a long sigh, and knelt to his knees to cradle her.

“Shhh…I’ve got you bunny.” He cooed for her so gently it might have seemed paternal to most, but underneath brewed a raging fire. Albert pulled away for a moment to look at her and held her cheek in one hand; he inspected her red eyes, her blotchy skin... His eye twitched when he saw the discolouration on her opposite cheek. A bruise. His eyes snapped to Mathewson, “Is that true?” He nodded to the bandage.

The officer scoffed.

“Sure as hell is. That bi-“ he stopped when he saw the look of murder in Albert’s eyes, “…that girl bit my arm. I was fucking bleeding everywhere and she threw up in my partner’s cruiser! Took the both of us to even get her in there too. She started runnin’ away with that dog of hers…if you raised her to be like that you oughta have a firm conversation with her.” His mouth ran out of his control, and it was all Albert needed to hear, though he was barely listening.

“Then why does she have a bruise on her cheek?” He asked, pulling her face from his neck again, and setting her down beside him as they slowly stood up. She was shaking and clinging to him as tightly as she could when she remembered being taken away against her will; but even with her red eyes, she glared at the officers. Albert tilted her head to the side to get a better look. She leaned into his touch and stared up at him as if he was the only other person in the world.

“Hmm?” He hummed, then looked back to the men in uniform, “If you were just upholding the law then why the FUCK is there a goddamn bruise on her cheek?” His outburst made the officers flinch. But she didn’t. She just stared.

“Hey now…it was self defence you know- she bit my partner!” Allans said defensively.

“Oh well that’s fine then.” Albert mocked them. “What’s your name?” He looked over at Allans, suddenly very calm.

The officer in question was rooted to the spot when he stared back into Albert’s eyes. That look he gave him was the same cold and dead stare he had seen from the girl beside him. Murderous.

“O-Officer Peter Allans.” He said finally, shifting uncomfortably.

Albert nodded. “And you?” He turned to Mathewson.

This one saw the look of fear in his partners eyes, and was even more hesitant, and Albert was running out of time. And patience.

“I said what’s your name, coward?” Albert seethed.

The man blinked and stared back into Albert’s blue eyes.

“Gilbert Mathewson…But look, hey, we don’t want any trouble sir. We were just-“

“Doing your job. Right.” Albert nodded, “Well now I’m going to do mine. Let’s go sweetie.” He pulled y/n to his side and she held him like her life depended on it.

To keep up with the charade, she even looked up at him and said, “Okay daddy.” And buried her face into the side of his chest as he took her out. She failed to feel him pause at the title, or see how his pupils dilated. It was so sudden that he almost didn’t process it.

It was like the air was sucked out of his lungs.Something about the sound of that word coming from her sweet mouth made a shiver run up his spine as he led her away.

But he couldn’t think of that now. He needed to hold her.

As soon as they were outside and away from view, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. Tears ran down her face and she held him, moving her lips against his. It was quick, but sent the message they both wanted to.

He let her down, kissed her one more time on the head and pulled her to the van; started it up fast. His brain was already working. “Do you think anyone is at home?” He asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

She blinked and pinched her brows. “…what do you mean?” Her mind was still playing catch-up.

“Your family’s home. Is anyone there? What’s their schedule?” He said.

Her eyes widened, “It’s Thursday…” she checked her new wrist watch, “8 o’clock…no. Mom is taking my sister to school and dad would have been just leaving for work…but he got the call…he’ll probably be down at the station for a while.”

Albert nodded sharply. “Direct me there.”

“Why are we going there?” She asked fearfully.

Albert reached over and took her hand in his.

“We’re getting you whatever you need, sweetie. Anything you’ve missed. Now tell me how to get there.” His voice was as calm as he could make it, but she knew he was still reeling from what those officers did.

Y/n was horrified at the idea of going back there, but she trusted him to keep her safe.

Albert walked down the side street from the van, and through the front yard. Just as she had said, there was a spare key under the doormat, and he let himself in. He felt a rush being in the same place where she had been…he knew that was the same door she threw open that night she chose him.

Albert found himself looking around for a moment. His eyes fell on the stairs, and he made his way up to where she said her room was. She had told him it probably would be renovated by then, but to his surprise it was just a little messy.

He stood there and stared at her bed. She had told him her father used to bend her over there and whip her until his arm was tired. Albert sucked in a breath. He drank in the space where his sweet girl had been tortured.

Then he remembered why he was there. Albert opened her nightstand, and found her small wallet there under some papers, just as she had said. Next he found her rucksack in her closet and went through her drawers, pulling out the certain items she had told him about, plus a fluffy little bear on her bed. He also kept a couple panties for himself.

Then he found a notepad on a shelf, and began writing.

“Your daughter is at 7742 south Irving St. Tell no one. Bring this note.”

He read it over one more time and nodded his head to himself before going to her father’s chair in the living room, and tucking it to the side of the cushion so it would crinkle when he sat.

Albert left the house, taking care to not be spotted by any neighbours, and walked calmly back to the van parked two blocks away.

As soon as he pulled the door open to the van, y/n almost jumped into his lap. “Did it go okay?” She asked, turning to him.

The engine revved and he wore an invigorated smile. “Peachy keen! The place was barely touched.” He said, and pulled away. “Just got in, got your things and got out. Oh I also found this little stuffed bear I thought you might like.” He pointed to the rucksack.

Y/n gasped.

“You didn’t! Really?” She gushed and grabbed the bag and opened it to find the very same stuffed bear that she had left behind. “You’re just a big softie!” She smiled and leaned over to Albert to kiss his cheek. He hummed.

She didn’t need to know about the note.

Not yet.

He helped her into the house and he watched her embrace the dog that was supposed to intimidate her. Albert took her hand and led her into the bedroom where he opened the bag and showed her each item. She smiled and kissed him again. “You’re the best. Thank you.” She whispered. But then, as he went to leave her to sort through her things, she wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.” She whispered.

He turned in her grasp. “Me too, bunny…thought you scampered away from me.” His voice was calm and light, but she knew his meaning was anything but.

“I wouldn’t…I couldn’t!” She pulled away to look at him, desperately trying to remind him that she was his.

And he knew it.

He nodded and kissed her forehead. “I know sweetie…I know. Why don’t I join you in the morning from now on hmm? I miss you anyways.” He purred, stroking her back.

Come on sweetie…come on you know you can’t say no to me.

She nodded quickly. “Yes please.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.

So polite. Such a good girl…I could never let you go.

Albert kissed her one more time, then walked into the other room to the phone to tell the shop he wouldn’t make it. He wasn’t about to leave her alone after what happened. While he did believe her on some level that she wouldnt leave, he needed to make sure she was truthful.

Besides, that evening they would likely have a guest.

Once he hung up, he heard her humming that song again, and he slowly followed the sound. He leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and watched her fold her clothes neatly and stack her books and little items she wanted.

Then he remembered that moment in the police station. His pupils dilated at the thought.

“Bunny?” He said after a minute.

“Yes?” She replied joyfully.

“What was that you called me? At the station.” He asked casually, slowly walking into the room.

She thought for a moment, then remembered; it had just slipped out in the moment. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it now that her fear wasn’t clouding her mind and she wasn’t desperately trying to leave town.

“I…I don’t remember.” She lied, taking some clothes to the closet. He circled her, and sat down on the bed.

“You called me daddy.” He stated, leaning back on the mattress with his back against the headboard.

She froze. She had half hoped he didn’t remember and was actually asking her what she had said, but that was out the window. He could feel her cheeks heat up from there. “Well…I…I was just trying to tell them that you were my guardian. I didn’t want them to doubt you and take me away again.”

“Ahh I see…” he nodded in understanding, “Look at me.” He murmured. And she couldn’t.

He knew she couldn’t.

He sucked in an irritated breath. “Look at Daddy.” At that her eyes snapped to his.

Fuck.

He felt that serge of control he chased everyday fill him up at her compliance.

Seeing her so responsive to his demand made a part of his restraint with her snap clean in two. He sucked in another deep breath that turned into a growl and he calmly patted the bed beside him. “Come here sweetie.” He said gently. Her eyes were wide, and she felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He was never like that. He was always straight to the point.

This was new.

But finally, she started walking. She took the several steps towards his side, and while he wanted to grab her and pull her to him, this was a new game. So he waited, squeezing his fist so tight he thought his nails might break skin. Painfully slowly, she slipped one leg over his thighs, then the other so she hopped to his other side. She sat next to him, and smoothed out her skirt innocently, waiting for his next move.

His nostrils flared as he watched her- such a polite, sweet little thing. “That was quite the slap they gave you today, little one.” He murmured, moving to lean against the headboard on his side so he could see her.

“Slaps…they gave me two…they really hurt…” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

God he loved it when she did that.

“Did they now? I’m sorry, sweetheart…want me to make you feel better?” He whispered, moving a little closer, and placing his hand on her thigh. He would store the two slap information for later.

He wanted to see what she would do. Was she going to give into this new game?

Albert watched her toy with her skirt’s hem, then finally she looked over at him. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Yes please, daddy.” She breathed.

There was barely any colour left in his eyes. The older man sighed through his nose and nodded. His calm exterior was the perfect mask to hide the carnal thirst inside him.

“Why don’t you undress for me, hmm?“ He cooed, brushing some hair from her face.

She nodded eagerly, and quickly rid herself of her clothes. Albert focused on his breathing to not snap, but as she slipped off her panties, a wet line of slick connected her pussy to the fabric. She was soaked.

That was it.

His eye twitched.

“Get the fuck over here.” He rasped.

She stared at him and threw the panties away before clambering onto his strong thighs.

Albert made quick work of unbuckling his belt, and she all but ripped his shirt off.

He irritatedly threw his remaining clothes away and pulled her sweet little body to his, and slipped inside her with a single thrust. He let his eyes shut momentarily and a groan slipped from him as he listened to her adorable whines.

“That feels good doesn’t it, bunny?” He purred in her ear as he held under her butt to rock her up and down his length.

She nodded helplessly.

“Is daddy making the pain go away?” His voice turned rough.

“Y-yes.” Her breath hitched. One of the best sounds she made.

Albert smirked and stretched one of his thumbs to rub against her little clit, and he was rewarded with her grip on his shoulder tightening and a violent clench of her pussy.

He chuckled darkly at the control he had over her body. Even she couldn’t do what he did.

“Are you going to be my good girl and let daddy make you come? Hmm?” He rasped as she started to meet this thrusts.

She whimpered and nodded, “Y-yes please daddy!”

Her mind began to go numb and ecstasy took over. All she could feel was him inside her. Him holding her.

Him.

It was all him.

His cock slipped so easily in and out of her that she would have felt embarrassed if it weren’t for her being completely intoxicated by the man beneath her. His thumb stroking her so perfectly, his hands holding her like a vice. His blue eyes boring into hers. His strong chest heaving as he ruined her for any other living being.

With her mind full of him, she let go. She didn’t have a choice- her body wouldn’t have listened to her even if she had tried.

“Atta Girl…that’s my girl. Fuck…” he growled.

He continued to rub her even after she came, and when she tried to pull his hand away when it became too much for her, he pushed her down onto the bed and buried himself inside her again. Tears welled in her eyes as another orgasm pooled inside her.

“Pl-please daddy...” She gasped.

“What? Is it too much?” He mocked her, “Feels too fucking good? Beg. Scream. You're just gonna cum a few more times for me.”

Y/n stared up at the man above her, and nodded again. “Okay daddy.”

And just as he had told her, she came three more times.

She came five seconds before he filled her up with his cum, and sucked a purple bruise onto her neck.

She came again when he cleaned her up with a washcloth, but was greedy and began tasting her. Sucking and licking her sweetness until she was a whimpering mess.

And she came one last time when her sweet little mewls were too much for him as he was buried between her legs, and he had to be inside her one more time. His cum dripped down her thighs for an hour even after they had showered. They laid in an early afternoon haze of euphoria. They barely even moved for the rest of the day.

The odd neighbour passed by, and looked through the slightly open curtains in the front room as they always did, but they didn’t see that girl they had started to notice inside. They knew Albert, but they didn’t know her. They supposed she was just a maid of some kind. It wasn’t until late that evening that the house looked to have any life in it at all, save for the odd bark from that big black dog he kept.

Around half passed ten that night, a brown and white 1970 Ford F100 truck drove past 7742, and parked up the road. A man with poor posture hopped out, and walked with an uneven gait towards that old brick house. He checked the note he had been told to bring with him, though in his altered state, it was difficult to read at all. He only had one thing on his mind: haul that bitch of a daughter of his back home to remind her of who she was.

What she was.

A worthless piece of trash.

The man stood at the front lawn, and checked the address one more time before harnessing his anger and marching up to the door. He rapped impolitely and crossed his arms as he waited. He could hear an old record by Ritchie Valens playing, and found himself distracted by it until the booming bark of what he guessed to be a massive dog came from right at the door. He heard some scratches too before it stopped and the door swung open.

He was met with a man far taller than himself, and perhaps a little younger, but not much judging by his greying hair.

“Can I help you?” The man asked from the doorway, looking out past the man on his doorstep.

“Uh…yea I got this note, shit-“ he quickly unfolded the paper, tearing it a little in his inebriated state. The other man stared at him in distain.

“You’re Stewart?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Stewart responded. “And you are…?”

“Al. Come in.” Albert said shortly and stood to the side to let the other man in. As the door shut, Stewart took a look around the living room, every hair on his sweaty body standing on end. If hadn’t drank that whiskey he would have noticed how stupid he was.

“She’s been hiding in my basement…my dog fucking found her. Sorry about the note…didn’t know what the hell was going on.” Al ran his hand through his hair and looked down shaking his head.

Stewart nodded and darted his eyes around, “Fucking sounds like her, that little whore. You know I’m pretty sure she fucked every guy in town? Good thing I fixed ‘er…” his words were slurred, and Albert could barely contain himself. He hated alcoholics. He hated them more than he hated himself. But he had a job to do.

“She’s down here, after you.” Albert took him to the door to the basement and opened it up before gesturing for the other man to go first. Stewart nodded and clumsily made his way down the stairs, rolling his shoulders as he readied himself to put that daughter of his into place.

“What is this some kinda bunker from the war?” He asked as they reached the thick door.

Albert laughed lightly. “Something like that. Just push on the door there, I had it locked so she wouldn’t run.” He nodded to the handle.

“Many thanks to you…” Stewart slurred, then paused as he pushed on the heavy door. “Say you look real familiar…”

Albert watched the door past him and sucked in a breath at the sight that Stewart had yet to see.

Beautiful

“I’m told I had that sort of face…” he murmured, and put a hand on the man’s back.

When Stewart finally turned away from Albert and faced the basement, he clenched his hands into fists at the sight of his daughter sitting on an old mattress, still in the same pyjamas as she had run away in.

His nostrils flared and he shook as his veins pumped with anger.

“There you are you bitch-“ Stewart was about to take a step toward her, but was cut short when his hands were taken behind his back, and the crack of metal cuffs echoed in the small space.

He tried to wrench his hands free, but it was too late. “What the fuck-“ he spat.

But the basement door was already being slammed shut, leaving the three of them to exist in their own dim little world under ground.

“Hi dad.”

Stewart whipped back around to where his daughter was sitting, but his pupils constricted when he saw her this time.

She was standing.

In one hand, she held a belt with a buckle that caught the light.

In the other hand was a well used axe- it’s blade a little dull.

But that wasn’t what made Stewart l/n freeze.

It was the demonic mask she wore. Horns protruding from her temples and a deep frown where her mouth should have been. He couldn’t even see her eyes.

But he wouldn’t let them see he was close to pissing in his pants.

He turned back to Albert who was fiddling with something in his hands. “What the fuck is this? Huh-“

Tsk tsk.

He snapped his head back to the young woman, watching him predatorily.

“Such language, Stewie…you know you always raised me to have manners…maybe you should listen to yourself for once?” She said sickly sweet, slowly approaching him.

He scoffed and looked around, barely noticing Albert, “What are you gonna do huh? Try and kill me, scare me? Well it ain’t gonna work-“

A searing pain made him lose his words as he fell to his knees. From behind him, Albert pulled out the knife he had stabbed into one of Stewart’s ankles.

This was his bunny’s game, but he wasn’t going to run the risk of that glutton hurting her.

“What the fuck!” Stewart screamed. The pain coupled with his state of mind made for a poor cocktail of confusion.

She clicked her tongue at him.

“Dad…you should really pay attention.” She was just a foot from him now. “What was it you always told me before you would beat me…? Oh! Or the time you took away my god given right over my body at that hospital? Hmm what was it.” She tapped her chin as she pretended to think, and threw the axe down beside her with a heavy thud.

“What was it?” She whispered, circling him. As she passed behind him, Albert extended his hand to her masked cheek, and stoked it tenderly before he walked to the wall on the side and crouched to watch. He too slipped on a mask- the lower half of the smiling one. He was watching her every move, entranced.

Stewart didn’t answer at first and he received a single lashing from the belt.

“I said, what. Was. It?” She seethed, grabbing a handful of his thinning hair.

He sucked in a breath, “This is for -“

“Bingo!” She released him and clapped, “This is for your own good. Well dad, this is for your own good.” She chimed.

Albert’s breathing became laboured as he watched his sweet bunny fulfil her desires. Her needs. He just wanted to help her, and when he told her about the note, she had accepted, and he had plugged her full with more cum than before. He was helping to set her free from her worst fears.

“Hey now…wha-what are you doing there pumpkin?” He eyed the belt as she raised it again.

She tilted her head to the side.

“Aww we’re using pet names now? That’s cute.” She came behind him and kicked his back so he fell forward. “Well then daddio, what this is…is retribution.” Her sweet voice lost its life, in its place was nothing short of a cold blade cutting into his mind, but to Albert it was music to his ears.

“Y/n honey you don’t have to-“ Stewart began to plead. Gone was the front he had put on. In its place was a scared little pathetic man who had finally peed himself.

“Oh but I do dad I-“ thwack,“ -really-“thwack, “-really-,” thwack, “-do!” She seethed, panting.

Albert watched her like she was the only person in the world.

Y/n could see the blood seeping through the tears in his shirt, but she wanted more. She pressed down hard on a particularly deep gash thanks to the buckle; it was right around where the one on her back that had refused to close forever was.

Snot and tears mixed together on Stewart’s face. “Please…y/n-“

Thwack!

“No. You don’t get to say my name. “ she rounded him and let him try to look up. “I don’t think you understand what it is that’s going to happen. And that’s okay. Just know that this is going to kill you. I could do it quickly…but Dad?” She stooped down so she was a little closer to his wretched face, and pulled the axe towards her, holding it in her hands.

“W-what?” He asked breathlessly.

She sighed, “I want this to really hurt.”

Not a soul heard what happened down in that basement that evening. There was a file opened for the missing man, which was closed as quickly as his daughter’s. What the city of Denver did know was he was not missed. Barely a blip. Barely a whisper.

His wife and daughter moved on. Quite happily too in a new town hours away.

No one questioned the vacant house across from 7742 or how one night there was a man disappearing inside with a bag of trash, and reappeared without it.

A few brows were raised when two officers went missing, but again, things happened and the cases were closed within five months.

A few neighbours were curious about the beautiful young woman who now lived with Albert. They would often see her tending to her beautiful garden that had seemed to sprout over night; she was even cheeky enough to wink at the old ladies who asked what her secret was to get her flowers to grow so vibrantly. She would tell them that it was a secret of hers that would die with her. It was a blessing that the flowers covered the smell.

At first they found her a little odd, especially with how she seemed to just appear, but after she visited almost every house in the block with fresh cookies, they stopped asking.

What the neighborhood knew was that Albert- the strange, quiet man who had lived there his whole life- seemed happy. On more than one occasion, that sweet young woman would run out after Albert as he left for work and she would jump into his arms for one last kiss.

They never went anywhere without each other except for work.

They took strolls through the neighbourhood with that big old dog of theirs, and people would always note the look of adoration in the older man’s eyes as he watched that sweet, sweet girl.

At the grocery store, people would stare and the odd emboldened person would ask them how they were so happy after seeing the gold bands on their fingers.

To which they would smile at one another and Albert would just say shyly, “Oh you know, common interests and communication.” And kiss her temple.

“And trust!” She would chirp and hold his arm.

Most of the families who saw them hated them. They would grumble about how they were probably faking it all. How it was like they were some happy dream.

They hated it.

They hated them.

But oh that couple really was just the sweetest.

The sweetest of dreams.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@dogmatic255

@funandfancyfree

@tuttifuckinfruttifriday

@lxdyred

@ethanhawkestan

@honeycovered-bandaids

@theroadreader

@eth1calcannibal

@ratpackash

@doc-blu

@al-shaw

@possessedjoker

@destiel394

@ebiemidnightlibrarian

@darkvoidz

@belladonnaaura

@ang3l1te

@pecter-specter

#the black phone 2022 #the grabber x reader #the grabber #albert shaw #ethan hawke #slasher x reader

761 notes · View notes

traumxrei-archive · 2 years

Text

【 the shape of one's heart 】

author's note: hello and welcome to yet another leona kingscholar fic sjkdfjsf (the amount of l/ve i have for this man...unimaginable !!) part a birthday fic, part a character study, and part fluffy romance, i hope you enjoy reading <33 (UPDATE, aug 3: i rewrote the ending of iv. capture >:333)

characters: leona kingscholar x gn! prefect, ruggie bucchi, jack howl, falena kingscholar, cheka kingscholar

word count: 4.5k

tags: leona character study !! (or an attempt at one), happy birthday to dummy lion, your honor i love him therefore i psychoanalyze him, fluff is justice, but also there's angst, so watch out haha—, him and prefect are just <333, i. ii. iii. are mostly char study n iv. is where most of the romance lies

[ or read it on ao3 ]

i. gloves

It all started with an innocent question. "Why do you wear gloves all the time?" Leona blinked at them, yet he gave no answer. Instead, he recalled the first time he felt the coarseness of sand against the palm of his hands.

His unique magic came to him violently; suddenly. It really did feel like a sand storm had swept him up into the air, his body all but pinwheeling from the loss of control. He remembered his vision shaking with anger that the younger him couldn't contain; the laughter and mocking of some petty servants still reverberating in his ears.

He remembered bumping into a vase, his fingers lightly brushing against its smooth surface before it dissolved into grains of sand; falling through his fingers as if it never existed in the first place. He reeled back in horror, grabbing onto anything to cushion his fall. It just so happened that he grabbed a fistful of drapery; all of which fell in a shower of sand around him.

When he looked up he could see the servants scattering away from him, terrified looks on their faces. He remembered being scared of himself, vision blurring as he explained to Falena and his father what happened.

That was the day King's Roar first surfaced. A Unique Magic was supposed to be a blessing, and yet…it never felt that way to Leona. If anything, it felt like another burden was added onto his shoulders. (The rumors around him began to grow even larger, and it wasn’t rare for him to hear that he had “the power to destroy their kingdom.” Leona simply tried to ignored them.)

Leona started wearing gloves not long after that. He couldn't control his power all that well for the first month or two. The gloves gave him enough time to react; if he felt them turning into dust he could let go of whatever or whoever he was holding.

Even after all those years, the habit stayed. Every day he tugged on leather gloves, feeling a minute yet present comfort at the feel of them. He only ever took them off during Magift matches. The only potential casualties were the Magift disc and his magic pen after all.

(Leona tried not to recall the feeling of skin flaking underneath his touch; the intention to hurt finally winning over his rationality. But whenever he saw the scar on Ruggie's arm he could only remember the memory with bitter remorse. Never again, he vowed.)

He flicked the herbivore's forehead for asking, "Shut up, 'm tryna nap." Leona let his eyes close, taking in a breath of air free of the unsettling heat of sand. He no longer had to be concerned about losing control, but that didn't make his power any less terrifying. His gloves flexed with his fingers as he stretched, cushioning his head as he dozed off once more.

ii. dreams

Leona didn't dream. Sleeping was sleeping for him. It was simply an activity to pass by listless days. Still, it was impossible for him to escape every dream.

Sometimes, dreams would find him; a little too sweet and inviting. Promises of glory and recognition. Of crowns placed within treses of brown. Of emerald eyes casting its gaze upon something that was finally, truly his.

Leona hated dreams. When he would wake up, all he could do was try convincing himself that it wasn't real. That it was a truth that he wouldn't ever get what he really wanted.

And what did he really want? A second prince that was labeled a failure of a student; what could Leona Kingscholar want? No matter how he claimed he didn't care, the want still simmered in his veins— stifled yet present.

Leona wanted. He wanted so much that it almost hurt to breathe. But he was blessed with the intellect to know that he couldn't get those things he wanted.

Many called him stupid and lazy for being such a promising mage yet wasting away within NRC's botanical gardens. But they didn't know of the effort that Leona put into getting to where he was.

The days of his childhood he spent studying. Enduring the royal tutors who always compared him to his brother and berated his intellect. The nights he spent poring over books in the royal library on his own volition; trying in vain to find a way to take the throne as his.

(Sadly, Afterglow Savanna valued birthright, and try as he might, the only way to take the throne was to overthrow his brother or...kill him. The younger him had shivered at the thought of it. Even if he resented Falena to hell and back, he couldn't ever try to kill him.)

Even his simplest dream of winning a school Magift tournament was completely destroyed by the future King of the Valley of Thorns. Yet another person that reminded him of Falena. It was the nth bitter reminder that he could never truly be first in anything. And after being disappointed at every turn, maybe Leona Kingscholar didn't see a point in dreaming anymore.

So if someone were to ask him what his dream was, there was a chance Leona would answer with "I have no dreams."

"-ona. Leona," There was an arm shaking his shoulder. Leona let out a disgruntled groan, opening an eye to see who disturbed his nap.

Oh. It was just them.

"Herbivore," Leona acknowledged, voice still hoarse from sleep. "You're late."

The herbivore stayed quiet for a moment before they spoke, "Sorry about that, I took up part-time at Sam's during lunches." There was a slight pause before they continued, "But what happened? Were you having a nightmare?"

"What makes you say that?" Leona sat up with a yawn.

"You were frowning really hard in your sleep," There was a finger poking at his brow. "Even your forehead was all wrinkled."

"Mm," Leona dismissed the question. "It wasn't a nightmare." The herbivore didn't seem all that convinced by that answer, but they let it go.

Leona Kingscholar didn't dream. But maybe he had to remedy that statement. There was one dream that sprouted deep within him lately that he didn't completely hate, even if he knew it was impossible to fulfill. He hoped that these simple days at NRC would never end.

iii. visitor

Visitors and Leona Kingscholar shouldn't ever exist in the same sentence in Leona's humble opinion. So it was easy to imagine just how excited Leona was when Crowley barged into a Magift Club practice he had to announce he had a visitor. He left another third year in charge, swearing under his breath all the while.

And it was even easier to imagine how simply overjoyed he was to see Crowley holding up a little ball of fur that was guaranteed to give him a headache.

His nephew lit up at the sight of him, "Ojitan!"

He held the giggling cub away from him, scowling, "Why the hell is the brat here?"

"Now, now, Kingscholar-kun!" Crowley tutted, eyes curving into gleeful crescents. "His majesty, Falena asked me for a favor, and his highness will only be here for a day, nothing more, nothing less. I've also taken the liberty of excusing you from all classes today."

"Oh right!" Crowley's clawed fingers snapped. "I almost forgot, I enlisted the help of some very capable personnel to assist you."

He heard the huffing and puffing even before they appeared in front of him. There they were, out-of-breath like they ran all the way to the fields from the main building. Leona debated tossing Cheka into their arms and making a run for it.

"This– This is the... life-threatening emergency that only I could take care of?" Their voice sounded indignant, and Leona felt his ears twitch the slightest bit.

Maybe he could put up with it. Just for today. Besides, he got a free pass to skip class for the day and he could spend it all with the herbivore? Obviously, it was a win-win situation— if only Cheka wouldn't absolutely annoy him.

"Here," Leona dropped Cheka into their arms. "Crowley'll pay you a standard rate per hour so you'll get your money's worth. Follow me." He knew that they would follow if he mentioned money. For some reason, they had been working themselves so ragged that even a certain hyena was complimenting them about it.

They ended up in Leona's room, the kid blabbering some nonsense about how he was the "greatest uncle in all of existence" and how he "worked hard so that Papa would let him visit cuz it was almost Ojitan’s birthday."

Leona sprawled out on his bed, watching the kid cautiously looking around his room. They took a seat at his desk, glancing between him and the brat every once in a while, "So I just...play with him...?"

"Make sure he doesn't get hurt either," Leona gave a deep sigh, seeing his phone light up with a call from his dearest brother and ignoring it. "Oneesama would kill me if he got hurt."

"Right," They nodded, trailing off to follow Cheka's wanderings.

Leona spared another glance at Cheka's sunset-colored hair. The sight of it had been burned into his memory ever since they first met.

Leona blinked and he was back to being seventeen, still living in the confines of the palace. He had rejected the invitation in NRC, still hellbent on trying to find a way to get himself to the throne. (How utterly foolish, he now thought.)

The hallways were filled with the sound of celebration. Usually, Leona wouldn't take interest in what was going on in the palace. But this time, the fanfare came to find him. There was a knock on his door, Falena's attendant telling him that the King had called for him. He should've known that something big had happened when even he was smiling.

Yet it wasn't until Falena was ushering him towards a cot (newly installed) and seeing his Oneesama resting in bed (sweat beading at her brows) that Leona really understood what was going on.

It felt like a kick to the chest when he saw him for the first time. Bright yellow and orange hair, rounded nose, and a pudgy face. Brown rounded ears that were a little too big, dressed in royal colors. The spitting image of Falena with a sprinkling of Oneesama, condensed into a child.

"This is your new nephew," Falena had said, his voice sounding so far away. "The naming ceremony won't be until tomorrow, but I'll tell you his name beforehand: Cheka Kingscholar."

Cheka Kingscholar.

This tiny little cub whose hand was a tenth of his was now the new rightful heir of Afterglow Savanna. He thought that he had at least a year before something like this happened, but it seemed like his time had been cut short.

He couldn't help but run away; away from that room, away from the child, away from Falena, and far, far away from everyone who would be able to see the tears streaking down his face.

On the day of the naming ceremony, Leona slinked through the halls, avoiding the guards and servants who busily moved about. He didn't want to get caught and dragged out to face the people after all.

Suddenly, his ears picked up a sharp wailing noise. He turned a corner, following the noise to a room. The door clicked open easily and he recognized it immediately.

It was his nephew's new room. And sure enough, there Cheka Kingscholar was, complete with tears rolling down flushed cheeks and fluffy ears flattened against unruly hair.

"Why're you crying, brat?" Leona leaned over the crib, watching as the baby kept crying. "You've got everything I ever wanted to have... A loving family, the right to the throne, and everyone adores you." He reached a hand forward, gripping the edge of the crib.

He inhaled sharply. And gave the crib a gentle push, letting it rock the slightest bit. Slowly but surely, the cries came to a stop. When he looked down, Cheka's sparkling eyes were staring at him. The kid had the audacity to let out a giggle he saw him, grabbing at his hair successfully.

"What? Are you laughing at me?" He raised a brow, steadying the crib. He had to admit that the brat was a little bit cute even if he was tugging a little too hard at his hair.

Leona paused before voicing his realization, "Hey, now that you've taken my succession rights, you better become a better king than I could be." He found that he couldn't bring himself to hate this little cub, despite him bringing an end to all his dreams.

There was a lump in his throat as he kept speaking, "So don't bother with me, alright? I'll just be your scary uncle that never visits. So...just forget about me."

At that point, Leona realized how pointless it was to talk to a literal baby. He quickly left the room, watching the door for a few minutes until he saw Oneesama enter the room.

And within the same week, he walked into NRC's Hall of Mirrors for the first time; the Mirror frantically shouting that his soul perfectly matched Savanaclaw. There were times when Leona felt bitter. Where he would long for the throne yet again, but he knew it was a hopeless endeavor.

"Ojitan! I've got something to give you!" Leona blinked away his daze only to be met with a brightly smiling Cheka.

He turned up his nose, "Do it quick, screech box, I’ve got things to do."

"Like sleeping," the herbivore commented drily; though he mercifully chose to ignore it this time.

"Here!" Cheka pushed something right at his face. "Open it now!"

It was a card, written in messy handwriting and punctuated by random doodles and spontaneous bursts of glitter. Leona looked at the drawings in a daze. There was a figure that was clearly Cheka, along with his parents. And right next to Falena was a figure that looked suspiciously like him.

"Happy Early Birthday!" Cheka cheered, climbing right into his lap. He nuzzled his face right into his neck, little arms wrapping around Leona’s shoulders.

"Brat," Leona said in a warning tone, pushing at the cub's face. "My birthday isn't for a while, but...thanks." He could see how Cheka lit up at the praise, practically bouncing and planting a kiss on his cheek before running back to the herbivore.

"He said 'thank you'!" Cheka preened as if a 'thank you' from him was worth thousands of thaumarks. They said something in return but Leona wasn't listening. He was still staring at the hastily drawn picture, the paper creasing where he held it too tight.

Even if it felt like a burden, family would always be family to Leona. That was the reason that he couldn't raise a hand against Falena, even if he was an ever-present thorn at his side. And that was the reason why he couldn't send Cheka away, even if he disturbed his peace.

(And if that card ended up in the confines of one of his rarely-used drawers, safely preserved with a protective spell, then well...Leona wouldn't know anything about it.)

iv. captured

“Checkmate.”

“Urk,” The Savanaclaw student in front of him winced as he stared down at the chessboard. “T-that was fast…”

Leona let a smirk spread on his face as he watched the student reset the board. He loosened his bolo tie as he sat, resting his chin in an open hand.

“Wow, I’m starting to get goosebumps,” Ruggie’s voice couldn’t have been any farther away from admiration. “Is this your fortieth win today?”

“Forty-first,” Leona corrected, his eyes languidly combing the room for a certain face. “I’m taking a break now.”

As Ruggie continued to fuss with his ever-growing pile of presents, Leona went back to searching the crowd. Quite a lot of people had come for the celebration of his birthday.

But the one he was really looking for was…running around serving drinks.

Leona bit back a sigh. Of course they would be one of the people working in this crowd. Hell, even that busy-bodied octopunk wasn’t lifting a finger for his birthday. It was half-amusing and half-frustrating to see.

His ears twitched as he heard footsteps approaching him, and there was Jack. A plate piled high full of meat rested in the burly freshman’s hands as he shifted from left to right.

“Uh…” Jack coughed. “I thought Leona-senpai might’ve been hungry, so I got you something.”

He stared at Jack before, tilting his head to the table, “Put it down there, pup.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Jack said, though Leona could see the stable swish of his tail behind him. “I got a variety of meat for you, senpai. So happy birthday and I promise I’ll catch up to you in spelldrive soon.”

He watched as Jack left. If Jack was a chess piece, Leona was sure he would be a knight. Knights move in their rigid L-shape, yet it is a powerful piece. They can be the very force that topples the stability of a game. They’re able to break through defenses that other pieces might not be able to touch.

Leona rolled his eyes at the thought. Was it because it was his birthday that he was feeling sentimental? Anyway, all he knew was that Jack was undoubtedly a part of his pride; the small circle of people that Leona let befriend him.

“Eh~ Leona-san not finishing a plate of meat in two seconds?” Ruggie’s voice reached him faster than the lightness of his steps. “Next thing I know you’ll tell me you went vegetarian, shishishishi~”

“Shut it, Ruggie,” Leona stabbed a fork into a steak, his fangs cutting through the meat like butter. “And go get me a drink while you’re at it.”

“But, Leona-san, wouldn’t you rather get a drink delivered to you by your precious little herbivore?” Leona wasn’t sure what part of him betrayed his thoughts; his tail, ears, or even his expression but Ruggie burst into laughter. “This is so rich! Give me a sec, it’ll be a special service since it’s my boss’ birthday.”

“Oi, Ruggie—”

But before he could even utter another word, Ruggie had sped off into the crowd. Leona sighed for two reasons: one, because he almost felt sorry for all the people Ruggie had mugged in the crowd, and two, because Ruggie was a little too observant at times.

If Ruggie was a chess piece, he would be a pawn. That might be cruel to say, but pawns are a formidible piece. They might go unnoticed like infantry in a war. And yet only pawns are able to sneak through the board to bring another queen into the battle. An expert at rallying allies and an unseen giant in chess. That was the pawn.

Leona placed his fork on the table, before speaking, “You’re a hundred years early if you wanna sneak up on me like that.”

“How did you- Never mind,” They shuffled in front of him, carrying a tray of drinks. “What would you like to drink?”

“Hmm?” Leona felt his tail rising into the air, though he didn’t stop it. “Aren’t you supposed to be more polite to the birthday boy?”

Their brows furrowed, “You didn’t even like being called the birthday boy!”

“And what? I can’t change my mind on that?” Leona felt a slow smirk grow on his face the more they looked like they were about to deck him with the drink tray.

“Alright.” They took a breath. “Happiest of days of birth, Leona Kingscholar! If you would be so inclined to state your preference of beverage, I shall happily acquire it for you.”

Leona’s smirk twisted into a frown, “Never do that ever again.”

There was a small smile toying at their lips before they put down a glass, “Fine. Here, I heard this drink was your favorite.”

“You’re gonna leave just like that?” Emerald green eyes softened just a little upon meeting their gaze. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get your favorite lion a gift, herbivore.”

They sighed in what Leona thought was exasperation, “Of course I did. It’s sitting in your room.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Huh?” Leona had to admit, seeing their eyes blinking at him in confusion like that was pretty damn cute.

“C'mon herbivore, let’s ditch the party for a bit,” Leona stood up, casting a spell on both of them while he waved a hand. This way people wouldn’t be able to see him leave.

“Wait a sec, what about the cake?” They blurted, hand secured in Leona’s own. And for once, Leona was glad he wasn’t wearing his gloves, relishing in the warm press of his palm against theirs.

“I don’t like sweets,” Leona reminded, leading them through the hallways of the Savanaclaw dormitories.

“I know, but— why am I coming with you anyway? You could open it by yourself, can’t you?” But at that point, Leona had already made up his mind.

“Indulge in me for a little, herbivore,” Leona’s expression filled with mirth. “Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration for me, right?”

“You— I seriously think that you’re overdoing it on the birthday boy thing,” They grumbled as the pair finally made it into the privacy of Leona’s room. The sounds of the party gently trickled in through Leona’s open windows, and he spotted their gift easily.

It was a small box, a simple piece of twine with a tag completing the present. He started to shake it, only to be interrupted by their gasp, “Wait! It’ll break if you handle it carelessly!”

Leona raised a brow, “’S it really that fragile? Fine, I’ll open it carefully, alright?” They nodded, looking infinitely more nervous now, though Leona couldn’t fathom why.

Inside the box was a smaller metal box. He turned it around in his hands, “What am I supposed to do with this?” They hesitated, before pressing one of the buttons on the side.

An image flickered to life on a holographic screen. He poked a finger through it, watching the display distort around his fingers. The pictures changed every few seconds, each one more surprising than the last.

“It’s…a photo album,” They handed the box back to him. “There’s a lot of pictures in there, I dug some up from the school newspaper and magicam account. There are also pictures I got from his majesty, Falena too. I had the device commissioned by Ignihyde, which is why it’s so…futuristic looking.”

“It must’ve cost a lotta money,” Leona said quietly, unable to take his eyes off the pictures. There were pictures of him as a child sprinkled amongst his memories in NRC. There were even pictures that were no doubt their work; evident from the way Leona recognized all his favorite napping spots in the background.

“That’s right,” They nudged at his elbow. “You should appreciate my hard work.” And it hit Leona right then and there that the reason they had been working so hard— the very reason they needed all that money in the first place— was because of this very gift in his hands. There was a lump in his throat as more and more pictures passed; the memories flashing in his mind both bitter and sweet.

“I do,” He placed the box down, turning to face them. "Thank you.”

The thanks that left Leona’s lips were more sincere than he was expecting. But Leona wasn’t surprised anymore considering these complicated feelings that swirled around his heart. He already tried suppressing them; acting unfairly mean, and arrogant towards them, even going as far as ignoring them for a while. But to Leona, it felt even worse to be without them than it was to have them around, even if they didn’t know of his feelings. So he swallowed his self-deprecation and anxiety in order to stay with them. He had already made up his mind to let those feelings stay, even if he wasn’t equipped with the knowledge to adequately express them.

Ah, but if they were a chess piece, would they be the queen to his king? The king was quite lazy. The most important piece, and yet he doesn’t move around all that much. He was always being protected by other pieces, whilst the queen was free to move around as she wished. The queen was fitting for them; in the way they ran head-first into battles they might not even win. Though, there was something bothering him with this thought.

Another possibility entered his mind not soon after: what if they were his king?

If they were chess pieces in Leona’s imaginary game, it would make the utmost sense if they were the king. The king was no doubt the center of the game. A piece to be protected at all costs, lest the game is lost. Just like how they were always in the center of everything and everyone here at NRC. And if they were the king, then he would willingly become their queen. Because for them, there wasn’t anything Leona wouldn’t give.

“The Leona Kingscholar thanking little old me?” Leona let his tail swat at their face. “It was a joke, really! I’m just glad that you liked it. I wasn’t sure if you’d like this type of gift.”

“This type of gift being…?”

“A sentimental gift,” A smile tugged at their lips. “I guess there are even days where the great Leona Kingscholar feels sentimental.”

And instead of refuting it, Leona simply agreed, “I guess there are.”

Matters of the heart seemed to elude him, but for them, Leona was willing to be a fool in love. They had somehow captured him, disarming all of Leona’s carefully constructed defenses and taking his heart as their own.

Even now, as they blinked at him, completely unaware of his internal dilemma, Leona couldn’t help but bump his head against theirs in fondness. The little squawk they let out at the sudden motion only served to make him smile, though he quickly hid it with a turn of his head.

“Watch the rest of it with me,” The offer was whispered; as if Leona was too afraid to break the silence that had surrounded them. They nodded, and Leona was all too happy to shuffle towards the pillows on his bed. After getting in a more, mm, comfortable position— which entailed using the herbivore as a pillow— he was content to watch the pictures change. He offered up a couple of comments on a few pictures, earning a few hums in reply.

Leona didn’t get to cut the cake with his dorm mates that year; much to the disappointment of many. To him, it was the first birthday that he truly felt like he belonged. And those memories were more precious and infinitely sweeter than the taste that any expensive cake could bring him.

thank you for reading ! i hope you enjoyed and once again, happy birthday to leona kingscholar <333 if you'd like to read more, check out my masterlist >:DDD

#/trau writes #/trau fics #i'm doing this for the lion man #that's my mantra rn sjdfkjskf #legitimately sick as i'm editing #oof sorry if the ending sucks #i'm literally so fucking sleepy help #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fics #twst fics #twst x reader

811 notes · View notes

greycaelum · 3 years

Text

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru X Reader

(Kaleidoscope Series)

[ Fluff, Satoru and you building your family. Slight/short NSFW, domesticity, married life ]

[ Note/Warnings: Proceed with caution. By reading further you are liable to yourself. Yourself your responsibility, not my problem. ]

Worlds

Gojo Satoru in all his life never expected to commit or even thought of having a family or little pipsqueaks running around he already has a litter of those in Jujutsu Tech.

That was before you.

"What married life do you dream, love?"

He remembered you once asked him in the break of dawn after your wedding night, gasping warm soft breathes, but satiated cuddled in the security of his arms that he'd never thought his heart could burst from the mere sight if your smile. He's madly into you. Your mere presence was the expansion of his life.

"I never dreamed of being married. But I only dreamed to marry you. There's a big difference to that wife."

Gojo Satoru is happy.

II.

On his way home after an exhausting day he passed a toddler and perhaps the mother talking in a sweet voice about the kid's day in school.

That's cute, he thought but the idea of kids didn't exactly hit him yet until he saw you wiping down the tears of a kid he saved, softly cooing the boy and patching the small graze on his knees.

Maybe... Satoru thought but the idea didn't exactly filled him with joy but rather the memories of his childhood flashing before his eyes reminding him of his position.

You often caught his eyes trailing on the sight of kids and families when you stroll around the neighborhood or how his gaze would be solely focused on your body—your tummy to be exact everytime you prepare a nice meal. But he never voiced out anything so you let it be. If you're both going to build a family you want it to be willingly yours and Satoru's decision because to have a kid is such a big and life-long event filled of happiness as well as frustrations. You can't just give up along the way.

It was a lovely Sunday night, you and Satoru just finished warm dinner and now huddled in the sofa the TV playing some underated movie but you and Satoru don't care about it being all touchy and teasing with neck nipping, or simply drawing circles on your tummy while you're tucked in the space of his neck.

"Honey, do you prefer public schools, private schools, or homeschool?" Satoru blurted making you perk up and thought for a moment.

"It depends but I'd first go for public, why?"

He hummed and let the topic go, covering you with kisses, feather touches, and much more which lasted till dawn.

III.

Satoru lately has been very weird, you would be surprised to see him do the grocery with you trying to fill the cart with healthy foods. Mostly green grasses and radiant fruits.

"I'm not a cow, we need meat." Blankly you stare at him picking between a red apple or a green apple.

Suffice to say you didn't bring him the next grocery... As much as you love your husband flaws and all. It's more peaceful doing grocery yourself.

IV. [Warning]

"Sa—! Oh!" You gasped for oxygen. Your lungs is not catching up with the extreme pleasure granted from your husband thrusting from your back. How many times? You can't count the number you reach your highest Satoru never faltered simply exhibiting how much stamina he has left to spare making love till you drop. Beads of tears and sweat mixed, moans and grunts echoing the room.

"Hon—!" Satoru grunted feeling the coil in him tighten, his biceps corded and chest reddening ready to spill.

Warm and thick mixture flooded your walls. Your consciousness not holding out anymore and simply fell to the bed. Spent yet utterly satisfied.

"Honey," Satoru called out regaining his breath, seeing your passed out figure he let you be and smiled how precious you look, flushed cheeks, beside him tucked and warm.

Gently laying down he let himself nestle inside you, hugging your back against his cheeks pulling up the the covers.

Hopefully...

On a rare occasion you both got a day off for 2 days. Satoru pleaded you that he'll make a strawberry cake. That being said you're not allowed anywhere near the kitchen with your husband solely focused on listening to a tutorial.

This is too unbelievable... You thought absentmindedly playing with a PFP Satoru bought for fun. Too good that it exceeds a fairytale...

"Honey! It's done!" Satoru screamed from the kitchen and you let the thing go sauntering to your husband.

You smiled and paled at the disaster he made in the kitchen. Flour everywhere, the sugar container thankfully isn't emptied but nonetheless alarmingly low, bless you not to get diabetes. You chuckled and sat down the counter stool waiting for the revealing of cake.

But when Satoru turned you had to raise your brow at smudges of batter on the side of his lips. Looking down his hand your smile fell at the words on the cake.

"Let's have a baby, Mommy?"

He said out loud, soft and low baring his emotions as raw as they could be trusting you won't break him.

Standing up you rush to his side. Satoru setting his masterpiece aside to pull you up practically hanging to his wide and tall body.

"I love you." Was all you could say.

I never wanted to have a family. But love, you're all that it took to change that.

"I love you baby..." Satoru whispered.

After a couple of minutes of hanging like a koala to your husband you squirmed but he whined in against.

"I want the cake! Now!"

VI.

Cake. All day you've been raving about the cake Satoru is starting to get annoyed how you'd rather eat the cake than cuddle with him.

That's... Just so weird. Satoru grumbled trudging to the kitchen to release stress from the secret snacks stash he hid. But rocks trampled his hope, gaping at you happily snacking on his mochi, daifuku, baumkuchen, and whatever he hid for emergency.

"Please bake me another cake?" You stare at him puppy eyes with crumb sticking to the side of your lips.

VII.

Lately you've been sleeping like a lot and like a log too. Uncaring and uninterested whether Satoru cuddle you or leave for work.

YOU JUST DON'T CARE. SLEEP IS PRIORITY!

Satoru is starting to get anxious until he notice a tiny bean and heartbeat pulsing in you. He felt his soul shake and body run cold as if a truck hit him.

In you? Heartbeat?!

"Shoko do you do check-up for pregnant women?!" Satoru almost screamed his lungs in haste but tried to keep it to a feral hiss in account of you sleeping receiving a 'tsk' from the brunette doctor.

Nonetheless Shoko sent him an address of reputed and private hospital.

You woke up from Satoru fiddling your hair staring at you with the shitty grin on his face. Oh honey you don't know how he's stopping himself from twirling you around.

"Hi Mommy!" He greeted.

"Morni—?" You frown and eyes widening with the reality from his words.

When words fail to express happiness tears speak multitude of words.

"We'll be good parents." He hushed you and pulled in his arms, hands feeling your tummy. Satoru's universe never felt so full and contented with the two person he vows to protect all his life.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

|| Good day/night! This was rushed, cramps are chopping me I needed to vent. ||

Check out the Masterlist for more. Kaleidoscope Series Masterlist.

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).

#gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagines #greycaelum #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #gojo x pregnant reader #gojo satoru kaleidoscope series #gojo satoru x sweet wife #married gojo satoru

975 notes · View notes

rainhadaenerys · 3 years

Text

Daenerys being a Mom™ to her dragons

For Daenerys Targaryen Appreciation Month 2021

Day 14: Mother of Dragons

There are quite a few adorable moments where Dany acts like a typical Mom™ to her dragons.

1) Dany breastfeeds her dragons:

The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. - Daenerys X AGOT

2) She's a super proud and protective mom:

My furious children, she thought. They must not come to harm. - Daenerys III ACOK

3) A mother would never sell her children:

"Would you ask a mother to sell one of her children?" - Daenerys V ACOK

4) Mama Dany worried that her children might hurt themselves:

Dragons always preferred to attack from above, Dany had learned. Should either get between the other and the sun, he would fold his wings and dive screaming, and they would tumble from the sky locked together in a tangled scaly ball, jaws snapping and tails lashing. The first time they had done it, she feared that they meant to kill each other, but it was only sport. - Daenerys I ASOS

5) Disciplining her kids:

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother's jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.

"Stop that, Rhaegal," Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat. "You had the last one. I'll have no greedy dragons." - Daenerys I ASOS

6) The kid is now too big for mom to hold but the kid insists anyway:

Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. "No," Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently. "You're too big for that now, sweetling." But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo's great leather chair, giggling. - Daenerys II ASOS

7) Proud mama again, wanting her children to go on after her:

House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad. "You must be my children," she told the dragons, "my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead." - Daenerys IV ASOS

8) Mama Dany playing with her kids, and musing about how grown they are:

Drogon looped his neck around to nip at her hand. His teeth were very sharp, but he never broke her skin when they played like this. Dany laughed, and rolled him back and forth until he roared, his tail lashing like a whip. It is longer than it was, she saw, and tomorrow it will be longer still. They grow quickly now, and when they are grown I shall have my wings. - Daenerys IV ASOS

9) Typical mother being anxious about her children leaving home:

There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought. - Daenerys VI ASOS

10) Affectionate mother, and worried that her kids are fighting each other:

Viserion sensed her disquiet. The white dragon lay coiled around a pear tree, his head resting on his tail. When Dany passed his eyes came open, two pools of molten gold. His horns were gold as well, and the scales that ran down his back from head to tail. "You're lazy," she told him, scratching under his jaw. His scales were hot to the touch, like armor left too long in the sun. Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift. "You should be hunting with your brothers. Have you and Drogon been fighting again?" - Daenerys I ADWD

11) Poor overworked mom:

I have left them too much to themselves, but where am I to find the time for them? - Daenerys I ADWD

#danymonth2021 #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #my meta

285 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 2 years

Text

chapter vii.

Rating: M

Warning: Heavy descriptions of death and punishment;

Summary: In which MELLARA TARGARYEN, navigates life as a noble courtier with two husbands;

[none had taken to multiple spouses after maegor the cruel many a generation or so ago. but princess mellara was determined to have both of her husbands. it had not been in elmo tully’s mind to bear witness to a house of three in his life. however, he had deep and genuine affection for the princess of blackhall and waited many years to have her hand in marriage. he did not care for the whisper of others, having to share a woman who was daemon targaryen’s beloved woman......unlike the heir of riverrun however, prince daemon had not been one to have liked the arrangement in the beginning. he had disliked sharing his lover, more so having to share her as one of two husbands. regardless of these conflicting views, however, the two men were eager to do one thing. that was to make their wife happy.]

- maester aeron targaryen; adust

A D U S T m a s t e r l i s t

< you and i burn together or we shall die trying >

chapter i / chapter ii / chapter iii / chapter iv / chapter v

chapter vi / chapter vii / chapter viii / chapter ix / chapter x

chapter xi / chapter xii / chapter xiii / chapter xiv / chapter xv

chapter xvi / chapter xvii / chapter xviii

He wished this moment would last forever. Through these many years that passed him by, living the same life of sword and flame, of death and blood, the wanting to be in Mellara’s arms again weighed heavy on him. The thoughts of home echoed in his head over and over again. Each sleepless night, deprieved of rest and warmth, he thought of her. For brief moments, there were times, he was sure that he could see her smiling at him in the veil of dusk.Her arms reaching out for him, languished with the warmth of her touch, her belly grown with the child that sprung from the fury of their burning love.These were what had gotten him through the worst of times in these many years.

Father had always found it in himself to say to him that there would never be anything but restlessness in him, his mother’s spirit blossomed in her after all. Just like his mother, the young boy he was liked excitement and adventure. His boyhood was eager to relish in the wonders of the world he dwelled. He could remember how he had jumped off from one of the rocky plains just behind the Dragonmont and off to the sea, how frightful Viserys was. How eager he was to accompany uncle Aelor to quell unrest as a young of sixteen, his first steel driven sharp with singing harmonies of blood. When he first held Dark Sister in his arms, looking at the pride of his grandfather, Daemon Targaryen was certain that his life was meant to be that of restless abandon, of battle and war.

Yet he knew from the moment he saw Mellara Targaryen, smiling against the blossoming winter roses in Dragonstone, he knew he had lost himself to her. All he had wanted in life was her, to be by her side. To be the one who would have the honor of holding her own hand for all of eternity. All thought of his glories to be sung in the songs after him, he had not wanted it. If there is to be songs to be enjoyed in the fires of the days after him, Daemon dreams that his songs it would be of his devotion to his beloved Mellara, to be worthy of her hand and the contentment in her love.

When he had agreed to join in this enterprise, he had pondered upon the thought of leaving his beloved. Yet, he knew that this was an opportunity to do well by her. This war was to him not about the trouble of trade nor was it on his wanting to serve to his duty. No, he has had enough of his duties. He was a prince, that much is true. But a second son with naught to his name. Daemon Targaryen had become a king, a conqueror in his own right, to be worthy of his beloved princess. To make her his wife, his queen. His own beloved lady.

His beloved Mellara had been flustered at such a thought, beautifully blushed in pinkish scarlet as he told her of his devotions. She had wondered how worthy she had been to be so loved by him, so deeply with all he had. Yet it was he that had asked that time an time again as he took her in his arms to love. Daemon could see in her eyes as he had in their many years together, the same adoration that only belonged to him. Perhaps burning even brighter, at the reunion of their hearts and bodies after these many years. But they remained unchanged, utterly filled in the same fidelity that was promised in the winds of their professed love that night when they fell in love.

There was gentle affection that echoed through the touch of her fingers as they intertwined with his in each memory. The gaze of her seductive lilac eyes tempted him into life, burning blood echoed in wanting. The way her every step had been blessed by her grace and vibrant fervor. The smile on her lips is brightly mischievous as she dares him to kiss her full. Daemon had been satisfied to wake to that each and every day, his bed no longer echoing with the emptiness of his wife’s warmth.

‘Wife,’ Daemon had thought to himself, his lips quivering into a joyous smile. ‘She is now my wife. My beloved wife. Mother of my heir.’

This year had perhaps been the happiest of his entire life. Mellara had all but delighted in staying with him to enjoy the quiet bliss of their own kingdom. Bloodstone was the biggest of all the islets that make the Stepstones. There were few who lived in the desolation of the deep rocky hills, but Daemon had delighted upon that. He relished in the blessings of each morning, the two of them were wrapped in the halo of glistening morning sun. It was a marvel, to witness the peace upon her features as she slept. Each morning had begun with a groan of prayers to the fourteen flames, to be by his sleeping wife’s side.

Mellara in truth delighted in sleeping many hours, much so if he had taken her multiple times in feverish couplings. But Daemon had taken the pleasure of his early mornings memorizing the wonders of the bright beauty of his beautiful goddess. Each day beckoned him a new wonder upon the mounds of her skin and flesh, her deep breathing in a lazy inhale and the huff of exhales lower in deeper tones. At times, he was the witness of her features reacting to the wave of dreams she had seen. There was magic in her blissful smiles as she had a good dream and the way she would flinch in restless dream. The way her lips would pierce and perk upward like a bridge.The falling strands of silver hair glistening against the sun like the beam of silver crystals.

After he had taken his fill of her beauty, the prince would settle to put his breeches and his woolen shirt. He was far quieter when he had put his leather boots. A small press of his lips upon her hair and he would take Dark Sister from her resting place and leave. In those early mornings of his sword practice, Daemon would find his only child walking through the courtyard, watching the clash of steel at the small courtyard.

Mellara had told him just as much that their son was much like him. In these many years apart, the young prince could not imagine his son as anything but a babe. If it was not Mellara that his mind dwelled upon, it was their child. Daemon had always thought himself happy at the thought of having a daughter. His heart beckoned at the wonder of a little babe growing up to be a beauty like his Mellara.

Yet he knew that the gods had already gifted him and Mellara a daughter. No matter if she did not live long, she was still their own. His daughter Alyssa had been a beautiful girl when she was born, so small in her cot. Small fingers and toes, her perfectly round face blessed with fine features. She looked exactly like his wife, from the deep curl of her lashes to the small curl at the corner of her lips. The thought of her often made his chest taut with deep desolation. The wound would never close. He knew that too well, as his wife knew just as much.

When Mellara had told him that they have had a son, Daemon drew a deep breath of wonder. The deep pride in her face at the thought of giving him another child, an heir of his own gave him all the joy in the world. Many years ago, they had thought they would never have children. He had sworn the thought of it out of his mind all those years ago. Mellara has always had told him that she relished sharing his bed, to share his pleasure in their bodies together. Yet her energies were not as well as his and it proved just as much with their daughter’s birth. His Mellara had fought so well, her screams were a battle cry and her blood spilled with each slash of her strength against death.

When she had told him that she was with child once more, Daemon had been apprehensive of keeping the babe. He lowered his head, his heart deep with despair at the thought of his Mellara being taken from him. But she had fought him, like the dragon she was, with fire and flame. There was no convincing her otherwise. Mellara had reassured him well, comforting him with her words and her promises.

‘I want to give you a child,’ She whispered to him, his head resting on her bossom. ‘So that the world may see the proof of our love. Even when we are gone, our love will thrive in the children that would be born till eternity.’

“You are awake early.” Daemon quips, sweat pouring from his martial excursions. His son hands him a drying cloth. “Have you broken your fast yet, trēsy?”

A small smile echoed on his son’s lips. To be called son was something he delighted upon when it was his father calling him. “Not yet, kepa. I thought you would like to eat together with myself and muña.”

“Your mother likes to eat together.” Daemon nodded at his son. “But your mother would not yet wake till a later hour. Are you alright with waiting?”

“Waiting makes one patient, kepa.” Aemon slyly grins at his father. “Is that not a virtue I ought to learn?”

Daemon snickers at the silver haired boy, hearing his stomach resound. “Aye, boy. You should. Yet if your stomach beckons to you, you ought to listen to it too.”

“That was the wind!” His son excuses, his face as red as scarlet plums. Daemon continues to shake his head. “Kepa, you must believe me!”

“Yes, jorrāeliarza trēsy. I believe you.” Daemon simpers at his beloved son, who finds himself in a pout. “But only if you find yourself a sword and show me what your master at arms teaches you.”

Aemon’s pout was replaced with bright eyes, lips agape. “Truly, father?”

Daemon nodded at his son, purple eyes fondly gazing at his boy. “You are six summers now. It is high time you learn. You are to be a warrior, are you not?”

“Yes, father, I am!”

“Then, we ought to begin your training.” The rogue smiled at his son’s enthusiasm. “But we shall first begin with a dull blade, you understand, trēsy? Or else, your mother will gut both of us alive.”

The young prince rushes to embrace his father. “Oh, kirimvose! Kirimvose, kepa!”

A soft smile graced his lips. For a moment, Daemon could remember clearly, the way his son gazed at him the moment they met. The boy had his eyes, he was certain. Aemon stood tall and proudly, taking a measure of the man he had heard of in his mother’s stories. It was not far-fetched for the rogue to admit that he was nervous about how he was to approach his son. For many years of his life, he was not present in his life as his father.

The thought had all but sobered Daemon, to think that his son would hate him. That his beloved son, his only child, would shun him. This was not something he wanted, but he knew that it was quite a possibility. The boy was his mother’s child and his mother had raised him all on her own. In truth, Daemon could admit that he longed to be like his father, eagerly showering out his son with such love. To be present for each and every occassion. Mellara had given him much comforted, hands across the small of his back to hold him close. She told him that no matter what, her son – their son, would love him.

When the servants brought the young prince over to his father, Daemon had been surprised that each and every bit of him looked exactly like him. Wide depth blossomed in his purple eyes glistening with curious questioning, curled silver hair neatly kept short. He was tall for his young age, taller than he had been at six. His young hands were neatly kept onto his side, almost like the way knights would at ceremonies. Daemon supposed that his son was beginning his training as a knight, he was around the same age too when he first held a sword. Every inch of him is what he had been like as a young man. Save his smile. His son’s smile belonged to his mother. That Daemon loved the most about his son. He was also his mother.

‘Do you know who I am?’ Daemon knelt down, looking up to his son with stars in his eyes. The boy looked down onto him. ‘Do not pressure yourself, boy. I had all been gone in your life. If you do not know–’

‘You are my father.’ Aemon exclaims in High Valyrian, taking his father aback. ‘My mother has told me many stories about you.’

‘Yes, I am.’ Daemon responds in kind, collecting himself with a breath. ‘I am glad that you are here, my son. I have been longing to meet you.’

‘Mother says you were gone too long because of war.’

Daemon nodded at his son. ‘Yes, I was.’

For a moment, Daemon watched his son as he stayed silent. In that moment much had passed through Daemon’s mind. How did his father ever be able to tell his sons such complex things? It felt hard to explain why he had been gone for so long. He feared that he would not explain it well. That his son would not take to knowing his father’s mindset. Mayhaps, he would feel as though he was not beloved. That was Daemon’s worst nightmare. Did his son feel as though his father had not wanted him? That war had been more important to him? That could be farther from the truth.

It was then that Aemon spoke.

‘Did you win the war, father?’

For a moment, Daemon blinked at his son’s unexpected reply. Registering what he had said, Daemon Targaryen could not help but release such a booming laugh echoing across the halls. The prince did not expect that his son would be witty. But he should have, knowing who his mother was. Sending him a satisfied grin, the young prince let a small smile grace his lips as his father reached, patting his silver locks with fond gentleness.

‘Does this prince of Blackhall’s gaze warm towards me?’ Daemon questions his son, taking his hand onto his. ‘Can this father ask for his son’s first affection?’

Soon enough, the young princeling lunged himself onto his father’s body and embraced him warmly. It had been the most perfect day for Daemon.

A peaceful existence gathered through him in each dream of the past. Because it was all too perfect. All too beautiful to even imagine as anything else but a dream. But it was real. And it all was gone too soon. Each morning he woke up, he returned to a reality of his loneliness. To the loneliness that existed with being a king in a castle without anyone to share it with.

It had been yesterday that they had abandoned the desire to be apart, their home together being built on the red manse. The happiness he had gathered through those memories that had been fully lived were beyond compare to the life he had felt around that time they had spent together drifted in his mind, almost a year ago now. A year of distant wants and dried letters and far away hopes and dreams dashed away by a command from his brother’s word of mouth.

This was paradise he was sure.

The gods have gifted it all to him.

And for that, he was only thankful.

There was no wanting on Daemon’s part to see his wife to leave. But there was no other choice, not when his brother had threatened to send a men of the sword to do so. His perfect isolation was all but over, now that reality had settled in. The rogue could only brood in the corner of the chambers as Mellara entertained Rhaenys, who his brother had sent as the messenger. Sitting across from his peripheral, his wife laughed at a jest told by their cousin. Mellara poured another bounty of tea on their cousin’s cup, who quietly thanked her with a smile on her plump lips. Rhaenys looked to him, amused as she drank a cup.

Mellara had always told him that she had adored Rhaenys as an elder sister. Though Rhaenys had been older by many years, Mellara had followed her elder cousin everywhere when she was a growing babe. One could find prince Aemon’s heir holding her baby cousin in her arms, showing her the beauty of Red Keep. Just as he was attached to Viserys, Rhaenys was the source of Mellara’s formative years. Her first letters were taught to her by her elder cousin and her first walks assisted by her strong hands guiding her. As such, her delight in seeing her once more was genuine.

Rhaenys, he could tell, shared the fondness his wife had for her. Perhaps even more than what he and Rhaenys had for one another. Mellara was eager in being to spend her time writing their cousin letters when she was in Blackhall. They too exchanged gifts, Mellara had told him. Blacknight too delighted quick Meleys with songs, which slowed her when she wanted to listen.

Prince Aelor had always supported Rhaenys and her claim to the throne. Just as much did Mellara, who had written a letter to the Great Council to rescind her claim to support their cousin and her son. Though he had been pressured to choose Viserys as heir, Daemon had known how much that had meant to their elder cousin, with the realm against her the entire time, with many supporting Viserys and his ascension as prince of Dragonstone. Even with her wealth, the desires of men could not truly weigh to anything.

“Dearest cousin, must you brood?”

“That is none of your business.” He says, sitting over beside his wife.

Rhaenys snickered. “My, what attitude. You would think this was a Stark in front of me.”

“Daemon, stop.” Mellara warned, gathering her own tea cup onto her lips. “Forgive him, Rhaenys. He is quite upset.”

“No, I understand entirely.” She shrugs her younger cousin off. “Viserys has been causing quite a stir in the family.”

“Well, kings are known to be quite invasive.”

Daemon raises a brow, turning to Rhaenys. “What has my brother invaded on your home?”

“He wishes Laenor to be submitted as part of Rhaenyra’s suitors.” Rhaenys reveals, lowering her cup. Her features contorts. “I must admit, I had no intention just yet to wed off my children. But Viserys it seems likes the thought of combining the claims of our blood to strengthen Rhaenyra’s claim.”

His wife looks to him and then to their cousin, brows furrowing lower. “But isn’t he....more interested in other pursuits?”

“Oh cousin, you do not have to filter yourself to be proper.” Rhaenys sighs, shaking her head. “My son is a sword swallower.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Daemon nods, as Mellara’s lips tightens in a line with her cheeks flushed in red. “I reassure you. The energies are heightened. Mellara enjoyed-”

“You should not be airing out our sheets to others, valzȳrys.” Mellara scolds him, slapping his arm. “This is our business, none of others.”

“I doubt Rhaenys would mind, surely.” Daemon snickers, leaning backward as he gazed at his cousin. “Corlys and you have had much more adventures than you and I, ābrazȳrys.”

Rhaenys laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know, cousin. I’ll never tell.”

“We were speaking of something important, you children.” Mellara sighs, shaking her head. Rhaenys smiles at her as she took the initiative to pour tea upon her cup. “And so, what did you tell Viserys?”

“I told him that I shall speak to Laenor about it.”

“I do not doubt you have yet to do so.”

Rhaenys nodded at the rogue. “I need time to make it acceptable to my son if it were to happen. Rhaenyra and him are good friends, no doubt. But I do not doubt that it would be a different conversation in bed.”

“That would be a catalyst.” Mellara agrees, nodding at her. “The small council from what I hear are pressuring her to wed as soon as possible.”

“Rhaenyra has had it her way, to live her life beyond the wanting of the council.” Daemon whispers, “They would want her wed to have heirs.”

“She is still but a girl.” Mellara shakes her head, looking at her husband. “Should they not let her have more time?”

“Viserys could give her time, but the council would not.” Rhaenys responded, her eyes stern. “Rhaenyra’s position is just as precarious without heirs. Few in the council like her.”

“The only one you can count to be her man in the council is Beesbury.” Daemon nods at Rhaenys. “Harold Westerling and lord Strong are both beholden to Viserys.”

“And the rest beholden to the greens.” Mellara frowned.

“Precisely.” Rhaenys sighs, putting her cup away on the table. Leaning back, she looks at her younger cousins. “I did not come here to advocate for Viserys. I came to tell you that there is a threat to our house and we must be rid of it before it becomes a problem.”

Daemon’s dark purple eyes glistened. “Then what do you want us to do?”

“Let Mellara wed another man, to strengthen our position.” Rhaenys suggests. Daemon scowls at the suggestion but Rhaenys persists. “A man with an army and wealth. One that shall provide might to our cause.”

“You will not sacrifice my wife to this,”

“I am not telling you to do so.” Rhaenys corrects her cousin calmly. “I am telling you to compromise. You will not lose Mellara over this, cousin.”

Daemon pursed his lips as Mellara’s fingers gently massage the tension from his hand, easing him the tension on his flesh. The thought of giving Mellara to another man sickened him. With their many years apart, the thought of having to entertain another stranger in her bed as her husband causes his blood to stir. He knew that it was of the most importance to do so, but Daemon wished he could be selfish. His marriage was all but a sham, nothing more. But his Mellara. His life with her was not, his love for her was not. This was his truest marriage, observed by his gods and his faith, of his own choice with the woman he loved.

Yet he knew that they would not be able to avoid this. Not when they knew that their family is in danger of being overrun by noble lords who wish to attain more power than they should. Especially when it came to the matters of the house of the dragon. A Targaryen cannot stand alone, they could not let Rhaenyra face this alone. If Mellara weds a good and able man, then they shall attain the support they need. But they would have to chose a good man, a loyal man. A man who can tolerate anything, even Daemon himself. For a moment, Daemon knew as he looked in Mellara’s eyes that she was determined to do this. For their house, for their niece. For them.

“Who do you have in mind?”

Daemon Targaryen in truth already knew.

His dreams from the gods had told him so.

A moon later, they were at a wedding in Riverrun.

The thought of being with two husbands was something Mellara had still needed to get used to. Perhaps even more so than her, Daemon himself. If he was far displeased than he already was, her husband did not say. He had however taken it upon himself to release his frustrations on her garrison in Blackhall, when they had returned there as a family after the wedding. Much had happened too fast and too quickly, she could not fault him. But Mellara had been certain that her rogue husband’s anguish did not stem from his bitterness of her or even that of her second husband, but rather his elder brother and his wife.

Daemon in truth had known that the only people that Viserys wished not to be displeased was the Hightowers. The marriage was a means to show that his marriage to Mellara was abiding to their pleasure. For it was them who held the faith in the palm of their hands. They were after all, their biggest patron. Not to mention that the heart of the faith was held in Oldtown, where the Hightower stands. Mellara had been sure her husband would have relished at the opportunity to burn the Hightower on his own terms, but that would in turn keep him farther away from her and their son. He had dealt with enough distance and so, he had kept those frustrations buried in his Dark Sister’s vengence time and time again.

It was Elmo Tully she had chosen to wed in the end. He was the heir of Riverrun, the future lord paramount of the Riverlands and the sole heir to house Tully. Through him, she would be able to secure the Riverlands for her niece. And through him, she keeps their family safe. It was something he had expected that he would be her second husband. He knows he is quite aware of the love she holds for Daemon and their secret marriage in Bloodstone. Both of which he has accepted out of love for her. Mellara had been touched by his understanding, but Daemon had taken the time to accept a third person in their own bed.

‘I pray you will not falter in the bedding, trout.’ Daemon exclaimed to the redheaded man, who smiled at him. ‘It shall be an eventful affair.’

‘I never back away from a challenge or excitement, my prince.’ Elmo responded. ‘I should hope you the same, old man. Your stamina needs to be strong.’

As much as Daemon has found himself enjoying the carnal pleasures of their house of three in bed, his feeling of distance towards the trout remains the same. They have had other bedmates after all. He was used to detaching from them, shunning them once the act of carnal pleasure was over. But they cannot get rid of Elmo, not when he has wedded Mellara and taken her to wife. Still she had hoped that they would one day be friends, at the very least. It would help their ventures much more if their family was united against the threats against them.

The sudden drift of lords moving in droves to choose Alicent’s infant son as their rightful heir to his brother had catapulted a dangerous threat to Rhaenyra. It was a need to form allies for her and she had realized it too well, now that she was growing into her own authority as queen. Daemon had not delighted in returning to court and kept his distance, and mourned their time apart now that Elmo was named master at arms in the capital. But he would not be lying when he knew that it was the right thing to do. They must shore up support at court, to be ironclad as much as possible. The Hightowers and every lord that thinks themselves an equal to the crown should be considered a threat. His brother had allowed it to become more prominent with his desire to keep the peace in a land where people are so hungry for more than what is already there.

It irks Daemon, to have to share his wife. He knows however that her heart was only his to claim, no one else. Even with her fondness for the Tully heir, he knew that he was still the one she loved the most. When he had returnedt to Bloodstone to settle some matters, Daemon was certain that he had loved too hard at his wife’s news to him. The greens had been furious at the sudden marriage of his wife to the Tully heir without the permission of the council. His brother had all but shut their complaints and announced the lans to commence a royal tour for Rhaenyra’s impending choice of consort.

Though, he would be honest that he had relished in the fact that his wife had outsmarted the queen and her sycophants. Daemon knew it was what they needed to do, especially when it was the only way to keep Otto Hightower on the edge of his seat. With Riverrun tied to her, they knew where the Tullys would stand when the time came. For a while though, the nature of the days turned quiet and there was some peace to be had. Mellara herself relished in it, now more so than ever with the fact that she was once more with child, with the heir of her second husband.

The news had not been delightful to Daemon, rather it had only worried him to no end. One of the frightful thoughts that Daemon could not accept was putting Mellara to the childbed once more. But with her second husband being quite young and being an only son, he was in need of an heir. The rogue had been the one to say that there would be only one child, which Elmo had agreed upon. He himself was his mother’s doom, whom perished birthing him just as much. Boy or girl, the child will be Riverrun’s heir. Mellara supposed that such light speed agreement from the Tully on the matter had earned him some respect for him. But he was certain it was not yet completely full.

“I thought you would not return just yet.” Her sweet voice drifted through his ears as he stood by the door. He watched as she nursed her growing belly. “You came just in time, you know.”

“Isn’t that exciting?” Daemon retorted, causing his wife to laugh. “I’ve returned safely to you, wife.”

Mellara smiled as he walked towards her, kissing her palm. “Welcome home, husband. How have you been? How is Bloodstone?”

“Dreadful without you.” He kisses her silver halo, smiling down on her. “But I am much better, now that I’ve seen you.”

“Let me guess, you have decided to come to me first?”

“You know me too well.” He smirked at her, moving to remove his sword belt. Dark Sister was then left to the corner of her bed post. “I must see you before I go to court.”

She leaned backwards, raising a brow. “Oh? You are giving up your crown?”

“The thought is not that hard.” Daemon tells his wife, sighing. “Our son will rule Blackhall after you. I shall keep our Bloodstone, of course. For our pleasure. But the title of king shall be rescinded at my brother’s feet.”

“It’s new to hear your excitement to return.”

“I am excited because I will not be far from you now.” Daemon goes towards the small table, walking to take the pitcher of wine for a drink. “I will be by your side, by our son’s side. There would be no more need to hide.”

Mellara seemed to be pleased, grinning. “That would please me greatly. You’ve been gone for far too long.”

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

She pouts, “And I still have missed you. Have you not, husband?”

Daemon laughs, drinking his portion of wine. “Of course I have. But of course, I relish in seeing you pout.”

Mellara rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh of course, you tease me.”

“Of course, it makes it joyful for me.” Mellara sighed, smiling as she rubbed her belly. “Where is our son?”

“Out in the courtyard, with his master at arms.” Mellara replies, motioning to the goblet from him as Daemon gently hands it to her. “It would seem that you were right. He has found the wanting for the art of sword.”

“I told you so.” He grins in reply, watching her drink the wine. “I had a special gift for him. One I had gathered from pirates from Essos in the recent patrol.”

She gazed at him curiously, setting the goblet away. “I imagine you boarding that ship in order to ransack it.”

He smiled at her cheekily. “I merely needed Caraxes. Then they all swam away.”

Mellara Targaryen laughed at his response, which pleased him. The sound of her voice reminded him of the singing of springtime, the same sound of the bell he had heard when he saw her for the first time in Dragonstone, gazing at winter roses that blossomed against the morning sunshine. When her calm collected her cooly, Mellara gave a flat smile and urged him to come to her.

Daemon did as she bid and knelt in front of her. Taking her hand into his, he gave it a tight squeeze and gazed at the eyes he had always so desperately loved. Daemon did not know if she felt it the way he did, the fluttering of a thousand butterflies across his body at the opportunity to marvel at the woman he had so loved. When she squeezed his hand in return, it comforted him. It welcomed him with passion, home to the one that made it so.

They had grown so much, he realized in that moment. Daemon Targaryen had loved her since he was a boy. His heart had never truly known the truest joy until he made him realize it, that he was in fact capable to love, to be gentle – to believe in something as freckle and reckless as forever. He would not have it any other way. Years had passed and years did change them both. But he had in all respects realized that they will never change. What he feels for her will never change.

Leaning forward, he caressed her warmth onto his cheek and leaned his flesh onto it. His cold skin breathing in the sun in front of him. Mellara could not help but gawk at him in passionate devotion, eyes shining as though he were the moon that shone in her vast night sky. In that darkness, Daemon was her light. Together, their son was their light. But there would be no Aemon without each other. There would be no sun embracing the moon. And no sun or moon to give light to the stars.

“I’m glad you came home to me, husband.”

He looks at her lovingly. “I am glad to have you as my home, wife.”

For a moment, all his worries disappeared.

In her arms, he was a man coming home.

Loving him with all she had in her body.

It had been Elmo Tully, the other husband, that spoke to her of what has been going on. Daemon was not a man that relished the company of sycophants at court, rather the pleasures found beyond the castle walls. He wins them friends in the small folk, that she was sure. But Elmo, she knew he could win anyone over. Her younger husband was someone who could bear with the tediousness of court life. Full of vigour in his noble bearing, smiling at the right opportunities and shaking hands with those whom he could use. Elmo in truth was much more alike Daemon when she thought about it. Though she supposed, Daemon was too much eager to show what he felt rather than allowing himself to be silenced for the convenience of lowering the whispers.

Even when she wanted to be there to support her niece’s cause as actively as she had usually done so, Mellara knew that her pregnancy was a delicate one. She was in pain most days, and as such needed to be confine to bed. Intently did she listen to all the interesting gossips and happenstance at court but it had been so with difficulty. Laying on her childbed, confined to rest until she was to recover from the birth of their child. But that would befor a while, she supposed. Throughout her pregnancy, Mellara had found herself too ill to be at court. It had been difficult, much more difficult than when she had Aemon or even Alyssa.

Her maester believes that she might have never fully healed from her first birth, the healers think that mayhaps it was the illnesses she had over the years. But they had all agreed that this was to be her last child. Anymore would doom her health and force her to never truly recover, if she should survive. Both her husbands did not argue and had told the maester and healers to choose her well - being over the child should the worse come.

It was not a hard decision for both men, not when Mellara was in danger. That had warmed Mellara’s heart, to know that she was cared for and loved. In those moments, she could not help but think about her cousin Aemma. How frightened she must have been, how deeply scared and pained she was in what had befallen her. Mellara had never truly forgiven Viserys, she doubt she could.

‘This is what Aemma deserved,’ Mellara laments in the silence, pursing her lips. ‘She deserved this, to be loved like this. To be in safe hands like this.’

“I hope that you are not pretending when you say you are alright, Mellara.” Elmo says to her, worriedly gazing at his wife. Moving at the edge of the bed, he put his hands to work on easing her leg pains with a massage. “It displeases me to see you in such pain.”

“I am alright, I tell you.” Mellara says to him softly, moving herself upward carefully. “It does not harm me as yesterday has.”

“I have told you time and time again, that you must tell me if it hurts.”

She sighed. “And I am, my dear. But it has not been as bad as before. It is just weariness that keeps me at this putrid bed when I wish to walk.”

“Then my lady wife should remain in bed.”

Mellara snorted. “And this lord husband should finish his stories.”

Elmo laughed. “As my lady wife wishes.”

It was not a requirement for her husband to be present at court. Not when he had important business back at Riverrun, which has been forcing his lord grandfather to send missives each day asking for his return. But with the king and his decision to name Elmo the master at arms, lord Glover had kept his mouth shut. The endless work of keeping Rhaenyra’s name a beloved one was an endless duty. Mother had told her enough that grandmother Maegara had advised her to retreat to White Isle, away from the business of courtly politics. But Mellara had refused. Her place was here, doing her part.

Elmo worried that his wife doing much on her own would be a worry of concern, even with her energy to do so. At court, he told her she was still a woman and was a target for vile men with too much power. More so with a child in her belly. Hastily, he send for some of his household from Riverrun and made sure to focus on paying attention to her health. At times she scolds him for neglecting his duties as master at arms, but he insisted he must be the one to care for her. She carries his child and would not be a neglectful husband. Ever since then, he would do what needed to be done with his duties and had been sure in aiding her as her proxy in court. Eyes and ears towards the vultures that eagerly find themselves wanting more and more.

Still, Elmo had been as weary as Daemon himself at the thought of returnin to the keep. Being a princess of her rank, Mellara was entitled to a place at court. Just as much as she was also entitled to retain her father’s rooms, which was mandated for her use by king Jaehaerys himself. Still, it was not always respected by the court, that a meddling daughter of a dead prince still lingered within the halls.This was unpleasant to the heir of Riverrun, displeased that his wife would have to be around sycophants that lunged at her for their own advancement. Not only that but the stress of political machinations echoing in endless circles had not been something he had wanted for his wife to hear, when she was in a delicate state.

As such, he had made arrangements for his wife to go towards the far flung corners of the city, near where the mighty dragon pit stood, where he had purchased for them to have privacy and relaxation while being at court. At most, she could have moved at the isolated corners of the keep, Viserys would allow it with her confinement. But Elmo insisted otherwise and soon enough the manse was christened Dragon's Den. It had been something that Mellara had scolded him for, she did not need this. When she had spoken to him about the matter, her husband shook his head and smiled at her.

“It is for your sake and prince Aemon’s, as well as our own child.” Elmo says to her kindly. “In this space, you can have your two husbands together, without pretense and without having to choose.”

Such kindness had brought Mellara to near tears, but she was glad that her husband understood. Even when Daemon had been rude and cold towards him, even at court early that day, Elmo Tully had understood. Even with threats or a dragon’s anger, he did not retaliate. Instead, he welcomed him and allowed him on his own without as much as a response of frustration. In fact, he had welcomed his step-son Aegon without any malice, the way that other lords of the court had. Elmo had in fact embraced the prince, eagerly participating in his martial education – which Mellara could tell her son enjoys. No other man would have done so for a child of another man. Especially Daemon Targaryen’s son.

Such was the life of peace Elmo Tully encouraged himself to lead. For what would change? Daemon had come first, had loved her first and continues to do so in a marriage that was of their own choosing. Even if the world disagreed, her husband understood that Daemon Targaryen would be the love of her life. That he can never rip away. Thus, he lives his life in a house of endless possibilities. A brood of life lived in understanding, satisfied to be loved at all and to be chosen at all. Mellara had found such love for her second husband, much beyond that she could express and a genuine gratefulness that she will never be able to repay in any lifetimes.

“You said that Rhaenyra had returned.” Mellara says as he hummed in response. “She’s returned early by two moons.”

“I predicted that she was to leave much earlier.”

“I said that it would be a moon early.”

He snickers, his thumbs rubbing her soles. “Then we are both wrong.”

Mellara rubs her belly. “Then this tells us she found no husband.”

“Oh aye, your cousin the King had been cold to her when he saw her.”

She frowns, face contorting into displeasure. “She is a young woman. She will find a husband soon enough. She just needs time.”

“That too is what I said.” Elmo says, slowly massaging her toes. “Unfortunately, not all lords are willing to believe it wise.”

“Such is the life of women.” She shook her head softly. “The poor darling girl. My niece has had these men rip her spirit apart like so.”

“The queen did not help.” Her husband says to her informingly. “I think she had agitated the princess more than she would have hoped.”

“I understand that the queen wishes to help mediate between the two. But it is not possible when my cousin the king does not understand her plight.”

Elmo nods in agreement. “I heard that he has allowed the Bracken boy to declare a suit of marriage to Rhaenyra.”

Mellara snickers. “My feisty dragon will eat the boy alive.”

“It would have been wiser to marry her to a Velaryon. Hell mayhaps even a Celtigar.”

“A Velaryon would be a wise choice.” Mellara nods at her husband. “Rhaenys is a cousin to me, Viserys and Daemon. By her father’s blood, she is most senior. To join her son in marriage to Rhaenyra would be wise. She puts her blood in the throne.”

“You seem to have thought much about this, wife.”

Mellara smiles. “I must, husband. Or it shall drive me mad not to think.”

“The thoughts on a Celtigar match?”

“It would not bring her security.” Mellara says decisively.

“Why not?” He asked curiously, moving to her knees. “They are still Valyrian.”

“But their power is not enough to keep lords at bay.” His wife says to him, confidently. “I would have her marry uncle Boremund, mayhaps even his son. That may leave the Hightowers with only the Lannisters.”

“The Tyrells are loyal to you and your claim.” Elmo says to her, grinning. “As am I am, my dearest.”

Mellara laughs. “Aemon shall not need a crown, ser. My son is satisfied as he is, I say.”

“I doubt that match will be good for us, though.” He retorts back, his hands creating circular motions at the edge of her feet. “Borros has too many ambitions.”

“That is true.” Mellara acknowledges with a nod. “Rhaenyra is too willful, she’s not happy to just be controlled by any man.”

He stops for a moment, looking at his wife. “I realized that had you been a man, you would have married her.”

Mellara smiled. “Yes, I would have.”

“Or perhaps you would be king consort. Mayhaps even the king.”

She shook her head. “I would not desire such a thing.”

“This is such a shame then.”

She raises a brow. “How so?”

“It would have been easier if there were more male Targaryen spares.”

“Had Aemon been older, mayhaps she could wed him.” Mellara says bluntly, her husband looking at her curiously. “But he is only seven summers, eight soon enough. There would be no heirs till he would be grown.”

“But would that not be a more secure match still, than Laenor?” Elmo furrows his brows, confused. “The heirs shall come with time but Aemon is the king’s nephew. His brother’s son. It would unite the houses.”

“But we will risk Alicent imposing her will, that her son should be heir in waiting till the time comes.” Mellara explains, rubbing her pregnant belly. “If that happens, then her heirship would be even more questioned. There needs to be an heir to the heir. As soon as possible.”

Her husband stops for a moment, frowning. “Then we ought do make sure that does not happen.”

“That is why we must find her a good and able husband as soon as possible, husband.” Mellara sighs, raising her body slightly to change her posture. “If the tour did not work, nothing else will.”

"Very well.” He nods to her, kissing her ankle. Mellara laughs slightly at the sudden tickling feeling. “But I must ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“I have received a missive earlier,” Her husband informs her. She raised a brow in curiousity. “Congratulating us on our marriage.”

“From who?”

“Your husband’s wife.” When Elmo said that, Mellara had bursted out laughing. Elmo looked perplexed. “Why are you laughing?”

“To hear you say that with such a serious tone is funny.”

“Why not? We are a house of four, are we not?”

She laughed even more. “Husband, that is not the case. They hate each other. The moment they married, he despised her. I do not know why, not my husband or Rhea tells me. But he does not like her and thus stays away.”

“Then why does she write such wonderful tidings to both of us?”

“Rhea and I are good friends, husband. We send correspondence to each other. And even gifts, I should add.” Mellara smiles. “Did she send us anything?”

“A barbary falcon.” He informs her, causing her to cheer. “Is that a good thing, dear wife?”

“Why yes, husband! I have been looking for a male to breed my female barbary in these many years.” She gleefully says, sighing happily. “She is a great gift giver, husband. She’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“I did not know this.” He says, moving away from their bed to the water basin to wash. “How fascinating, to know that you are friends with your husband’s wife.”

Mellara giggles. ”Daemon does not like it, he thinks Rhea will influence me unjustly. But on that I shall ignore his advice. I certainly do like his wife. Rhea is a great friend to me.”

His brows raise as his features rang amused. “Is it good to assume that they are trying to live as long as they could to spite one another?”

His wife laughed. “Oh most definitely! Rhea most certainly more than our rogue.”

Elmo walks off to find a drying cloth. “Are you feeling much better, wife?”

She nodded, beckoning him close. “I want to thank you for doing so much for me.”

He smiled, placing a kiss upon her cheek. He stares at her growing belly. “It was nothing, wife. I gladly do it for your sake.”

She sighed, blissfully. “What did I do to deserve such happiness?”

Elmo Tully takes her hand into his and gives her a small squeeze.

“Everything.”

Mellara smiles, squeezing his hand back.

They spent the rest of the night quietly.

They enjoy the remains of a fragile peace.

It felt as though he was seeing it happen all over again, such dreams. Each moment of drifting death for him reminds him of each and every dream he foresaw. Today, a man was ordered to be killed, at his father’s command. A man who had been eager to touch innocent human beings with a touch of the devil. That was not something that his father had ever taken lightly.

Mistakes are not tolerated. It was like just, in every war and in every conflict. Actions cause the ruin of someone else’s life. As a child, he thought that heroes vanquished evil justly. The dream of summer’s gleam and the just knight wooing the maiden with a win in the tilt. It was foolish to think that he once thought that lie inside an endless bubble. Men still die and men do it without valor or honor. Aemon Blackmace realized that he was wrong.

Not everyone was pure. Not everyone was evil. That was the world he lived in, the world his father had shown him, what his dreams had all shown him – revealing the truth to him. As his father nodded at the man, the act was carried out. Just like that, it was over. The lungs had failed, the air had vanished, the blood had stopped flowing, and the flesh had gone blue and dried pale. He’d witnessed greater, more torturous deaths. But every death, even the most cruel and depraved, is something to be mourned.

He was glad that this was swift.

There would be no more suffering to be had.

They all return to the smoke and ash.

His dark purple gaze darted to the ground, avoiding the rope and instead focusing on the platform. He observed as a soldier approached the high platform where the feet were. The rope was readily wrapped around the neck, much like choosing the greatest diamonds to ornament the latter. His beautiful lips twitched into a firm straight line, his gaze never leaving the murmuring worries of the men and women standing there, their futures beyond their control. It was what had to happen. This was a future that could not be avoided.

He was a man now, a grown man who could handle swallowing seeing such a thing. A thing so cruel and despotic, a thing so depriving of everything pure. But what was deemed to be a crime will always be a crime. What could be considered punishable was deemed to be answered for. It was not something that was always right. But it was something that was to be. This is what he understood. In a way, he had only understood that in his first brush with danger.

He had before this did not seem to be plagued by dreams, only by an overabundance of love from parents who had treasured him beyond any jewel of this world. But the first spill of blood, by the burnt black mace he now holds the name of – awakened the deeper truth of a world that does not allow the same game to be played in equity.

He was reminded of the temptations of death for a moment, its inevitability. Death is a sign of mortality, a gateway to the next life where something better is to be found for your own soul. May it be the seven heavens or the seven hells, your own life will be reflected. His own mother had always told him that the acceptance of loss was the greatest understanding of life. That had always stuck with him. Yet he could not help but say that he hated thinking about it even now even though he had adored and respected her.

That gentle smile he did not want to see, not even in his dreams. Not even when he longed for her to haunt him as his father does. So far away she was and yet so near. It was not easy to accept things as they are. For the first time, he felt afraid of the death of his memories. To give in to nightmares and forget what sustains him. In this endless, tireless, pointless war – he was giving it the power to destroy him. He pursed his lips slightly into a flat line.

There had been so many routes he had walked to death, and yet the young man thought so mournful, so fearfully sorrowful at the sight of others finding themselves in encounters with death as he gazed at the lifelessness of the bodies in front of him, the strength to reject death long gone. Just like his mother, he was not fearful of a farewell.

That had been ingrained into him as he grew up. It was something all men succumb too; even those with the greatest of magic. The one with power living through their veins. They are all mortals. Even he, his family who were the scions of old Valyria are no gods. They were mortals and mortals will always remain flesh and flesh rots and burns and gazes into oblivion. In each battle and in each brush with death, it was as if death seemed nothing but reality’s response.

“There’s no need for you to gaze,” his father’s voice came through his ears, pulling him back to reality. Though he did not allow his gaze to be drawn to the sight of his father, but rather to the eyes of the dead. Even if he possessed the power of the gods in his human hands, he was certain he could never bring back the dead. “It needed to be done.”

“I am completely aware,” the young man with emerald eyes said curtly as he saw troops bring a large plaque out. Despite the fact that the plaque was not well engraved, the young bloke was able to read the Valyrian language with ease. His father raised an eyebrow in interest as he sighed. “I am only…”

"What’s the matter?“

"Nothing.”

His father laughs at his son’s remark. “Like your mother, you’ve always been a poor liar.”

The man simply said nothing, but his dark-eyed father could only sigh at his son’s silence. It had been a source of pain for his father for a long time. Not because he couldn’t comprehend his kid, but because he wondered if the stillness was trapping him. That was his expected answer. Especially since it was his father. Aemon Targaryen is well aware that his father was attempting. Trying to cope while moving forward. But it was difficult.

After all these years, he has not learned how to feel the need to explain himself nor just speak. His mother had told him so. Though he could be charming and a good conversationalist around those he had to impress, those closest to him know that isn’t his true nature. It was all his illusions, his facades and his lies that people know. This life haunts him. How these memories and dreams flood his head. Others know the truth, but very few. It was as if silence was his own language.

Most of them are gone, dead and rotting in the grave. None would understand what all these nightmares mean. What these dreams mean. It frightens Aegon, to bear such things. He wondered how others had not gone mad, having to watch a nightmare over and over. The sight of the raven’s eyes gazing back at him, a wolf’s bed pool of blood and a dragon’s forlorn cry. The endless pouring of blood across the fourteen fires of Valyria. There was much that he wished he could put into words. But his grandfather knew it best — it would only ruin others if he did.

This was a sacrifice he had to make.

The future will unfold it for them.

Aemon knows they will.

“So,” His father once more as he pursed his lips. He knew too well. “What is it about?”

“….I was remembering.” The young man with green eyes responded. “The past.”

The father’s brows furrowed in great confusion “Remembering the past?”

“Never mind.” Aemon whispered as he shifted, moving to walk away.

“You were thinking of what happened that day, weren’t you?”

The young man with dark purple eyes came to a standstill. Without his knowledge, his lips pursed into a scowl. He remembered the surprised gasps from the numerous people in the room. All the others who sobbed in terror, contempt, and horror as they fled for their lives. In the dark of morning, fire engulfed them all, burning them all to the ground. His body rushed as he ran and chased with a wild yell. Lilac’s stare, uttering something he couldn’t comprehend. The moonlight drifted against the sparkling metropolis, which burned like candlelight. The Trident was filled with salty tears.

He could see that room at the very moment he stood in the light of the sun.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “What of it? The memories return once in a while. I am no exception to that, Father.”

Daemon Targaryen did not say anything else as he watched his son walk off, Aerax screeching wildly behind them as he flew lower towards the land. Daemon was reminded that his son was as trapped as he was – mayhaps even worse. They say that the gods flip a coin for each Targaryen born. But Daemon does not believe it to be real. What he believes instead is the gods flip a coin to tell which one was cursed and which one suffers.

Long ago, he should have realized it. His son was both. Aerax flew down to the ground, gazing at the rider. Daemon was sure he saw his son shed tears without knowing why. In a way, he realized that his youth was stolen from him. The youngman he had seen before did not get to enjoy his life. Even though he was already broken, he carried the burdens of many and the expectations of all. He had to carry on as if his life had not been ruined already.

“Aerax!” He heard his son exclaim as he gazed at him from a distance, standing before the pile of bodies. “Dracarys!”

The surge of endless flame gathered concentrated as the shine of fire’s light pierced through his son’s face, revealing his somber gaze. Daemon wondered when this would end. This endless suffering. As the bodies flamed into a massive pyre, his son stood still and gazed back at him, reflecting his own emotions.

They were both lost, on what life has come to be.

For all had become a dream of spring and a reality of horror.

#hotd #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x oc #house targaryen #house velaryon #house royce #house arryn #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #house tully #elmo tully #viserys targaryen

49 notes · View notes

under-and-over-the-moon · 3 years

Text

Hunger VI | Hyunjin

* Please read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, and Part V before the below for context *

pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

word count: 3.9k

genre: fantasy!au, historical!au, soulmate!au, forbidden love, fluff, angst, smut (but not in this chapter)

warnings: angst (but milder than last chapter), Hyunjin being the softest husband cont’d, insecurity and self-doubt, brief mentions of sex, mentions of pregnancy, nausea, vomiting, poor Hyunjin is still the conductor of the struggle bus, but honestly this chapter is like 80% comfort

A/N: Yes, Mya’s use of “wow” was a reference to 3racha’s danceracha’s wow

Some of this dialog definitely has the clunk but I’m doing my best 😅

Comments, questions, and theories are always appreciated! 😊

~~~

“Rest...” he said, his tone still neutral.

But then, voice tipping into pain, into desperation, he added, “...please.”

And you felt yourself drift off into unconsciousness, both the command and the plea in his statement settling uncomfortably on your heart.

~~~

A wave of nausea woke you up the following day, crashing through the contented stillness of morning and the fragile tranquility of your restless sleep. You bolted up in your bed, gasping, gripping at the sheets, and you took a few deep breaths in an attempt to beat the nausea back. But you already knew that you had passed the critical point, that nothing you did could reverse its course.

And so a second wave passed over you, this time of shame. You didn’t want Hyunjin here for this. You hoped you would be able to move quietly into a different room, perhaps even outside, to get it over with while he slept. So you could just be messy by yourself, in peace.

But of course, as soon as you took your third deep breath, Hyunjin bolted awake, his eyes wide, and you saw his arms start to reach out, before he stopped himself, eyes conflicted. His hands balled into fists, gripping the sheets.

“Are you -” he started, cautiously, gently, but you answered his question immediately when you turned away, retching, your cheeks reddening with the exertion.

When you turned back, the turbulence in his eyes was eclipsed by tenderness as he saw your expression, which, despite your best efforts to maintain poise, was exhausted, pleading. His self-restraint melted away, his hands relaxing against the mattress, and then reaching out.

“Okay, okay,” he cooed, placing a hand on your cheek, “It’s okay...let me just...”

His hand left you as he sprung up from where he was sitting, hurrying to the other side of the room where he clumsily and desperately started rummaging through housewares. Meanwhile, you hunched over the edge of the bed, placing yourself over a patch of grass that stuck out between rugs, hoping desperately you would have enough depth perception to aim correctly for this.

Hyunjin sprinted over, seating himself behind you and holding you gently, placing a basin on your lap as you heaved again.

“Okay, it’s okay, it’ll be over soon, I’m here, baby,” he said, rubbing your back, stroking your hair, pausing only to quickly tie it back with his own hair cord.

And so he held you from behind as your stomach turned inside out, his hands never leaving you, rubbing softly at your back, your hair, all the places he knew comforted you, quietly mumbling, “It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I got you.” And then there was a pause, heavy, contemplative, before he whispered, like both a prayer and the confession of a sin, “I love you. I love you so much.”

Your heart tightened at his words, the shame duplicating, deepening.

The first layer of shame was from the nakedness of it all. Sure, you had been undressed in front of Hyunjin before, legs open, your arousal on display for him. He had touched the most intimate parts of you, coaxed sounds from you that had only ever fallen on his ears, created life in you. You had cried uncontrollably into his chest in the palace at your initial separation and departure, and on the grasslands, at your reunion.

But there was something about him seeing you like this, so vulnerable, in such an icky state, without the shroud of arousal or heightened emotion to temper the embarrassment. You were just messy and unpolished in front of him, but in such a mundane way. There was nothing profound or erotic about this moment.

The second layer of shame lay in how well he was taking care of you. It hurt to see how sweet he was being, kissing you softly where he knew it would feel good, tending to you. The pain of the morning had briefly blocked out your thoughts, a horrible yet welcome respite from all your doubts. But there was still, if quieter, the nagging itch at the back of your mind wondering what you had ever done to deserve to be with someone like him, who treated you so well, when you felt like you were such a disaster, mentally and physically. You no longer felt like you had a packaged version of yourself to present to him. All the pieces of who you had been felt like they were falling out of your hands, bouncing across the floor, and every time you tried to pick one up, another was dropped.

You took a deep breath, the bitter edge of nausea finally receding, and the normal comforts of your body now returned to you like a gift, lifting your sprits for just a second. Despite your doubts and your overwhelming thoughts, your body instinctively melted back into Hyunjin.

Picking up on your change in body language, Hyunjin pulled you in closer, totally enveloping you in his arms, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Has it passed?” he asked, pushing a stray lock of hair back behind your ears.

“I think so,” you responded disconnecting from his chest for a moment to place the basin on the floor.

“Oh!” he said, “Let me take care of that! But first, can you lie down for me baby, just rest a little for me? I’ll get you some water.”

His eyes were soft, tender, loving.

You nodded, letting him reposition you, slowly leaning you back onto the bed before pulling the blankets up to your chest and giving you a small, almost guilty smile.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, placing his hand on your thigh before standing up and disappearing from sight. He came back a few minutes later, a glass of water and a damp cloth in his hands. He gently wiped your face before carefully raising the rim of the glass to your lips, tipping it to allow you to drink.

And while he was still so careful with you, so sweet to you, something had changed in his demeanor between when he had left the room and when he had returned. Something had reset. He was giving you what you needed, making you comfortable, but he was caring for you almost as if he were your nurse, not your husband. His touches lacked the warmth and intimacy of only a few minutes ago, and there was something in his expression that was distant, cloudy.

“Is it okay if I wipe here?” he said, gesturing to your forehead

You nodded, leaning back into the pillows and closing your eyes, feeling as his gentle fingers brushed against your brow.

And then you felt fatigue suddenly blanket your body, like a boulder on your stomach, your limbs heavy. The nausea had left a profound exhaustion as it receded, grating against the surface of your eyes like the sands left after the ocean pulls back. But you knew you had to leave today - you had to get to Cyrus before the news made its way to him without you.

You forced your arms back behind you, propping you up, putting your hands on the edge of the sheets to pull them back.

“What are you doing?” asked Hyunjin, confused.

“We have to go,” you said, now rubbing your temples, willing the eye-ache away, “We have to get to Cyrus.”

“No,” said Hyunjin, definitively, “You can’t ride like this, you’re too exhausted. It’s too dangerous. You need to rest.”

Again, the tone was factual. Diagnostic. None of the playfulness or softness you were so used to. An echo of the professional Hyunjin you once knew.

You swallowed hard, but then protested, “I’ll be fine. We have to. I’ll...get a second wind.”

“No,” he said again, firmly, “I can’t let you do that. I can’t let you put yourself at risk like that. And my father wouldn’t act that fast.”

You were a little caught off guard by his directness. And you could see, in his expression, that he was too. It was as if his calibration was off as he tried to slip back into his old persona, his grasp on tone modulation no longer quite right.

But perhaps, ultimately, it didn’t matter - it had the effect he desired. You found yourself nestling back into your pillows, allowing him to pull up the blankets.

“Rest...” he said, his tone still neutral.

But then, voice tipping into pain, into desperation, he added, “...please.”

And you felt yourself drift off into unconsciousness, both the command and the plea in his statement settling uncomfortably on your heart.

~~~

An indeterminate amount of time later, a rustling from the corner of your bed awakened you. You opened your eyes slowly to the afternoon sun, expecting to see Hyunjin, but the figure in front of you was not your husband.

“Mya?” you croaked, the sleep still lodged in your throat.

Sitting in front of you, leafing lazily through a book, was your oldest sister. She lived perhaps a half-day’s ride away with her husband, the head of a clan to the west.

“She’s awake!” exclaimed your oldest sister, beaming, her hands in the air in celebration.

“Thank the gods, honestly I was getting bored just sitting here. But Hyunjin was very concerned about you getting sleep, so he asked if I could please not wake you up.”

“You met Hyunjin?” you asked, alarmed, “Do you know...everything?”

She nodded, pushing the book aside and resting her chin on her hands, her legs crossed.

“I mean, I could have guessed who he was to you by the way he was just lying next to you when I came in, looking at you like an injured, lovesick puppy...But yeah, I knew beforehand. Mother sent a falcon over as soon as she heard from father what happened. She said you seemed a little off, that father may have been a bit hard on you. She didn’t say anything else of course, nothing direct, but the implication was that she wanted me to come talk to you, make sure you were okay. And then when I got here, she told me the full story. I hear...you’re expecting? Already?”

“Yep, already,” you replied, smiling weakly, “And that’s...unexpected, that mother would call you.”

Your mother wasn’t unkind per say, but you would not say she was actively kind either. She was aloof, poised, never quite engaging with you or your siblings past the surface level. You were surprised that she even knew you were closest with your oldest sister.

“Mother has grown soft with age, I think,” your sister replied, shrugging.

“What about your kids?” you asked. Your sister had four children, the oldest still under ten and the youngest still an infant, “How were you able to leave so quickly?”

“Oh I just left them with their grandmother, “ your sister responded, “Honestly, it was a relief to escape them for a few days -”

And then she caught herself, eyeing your bump, quickly continuing “- But I’m sure yours will be a little angel!”

You laughed at her half-hearted save.

“I do love my kids,” she explained, “But sometimes I just want a break, you know?”

You nodded. You didn’t know what it was like to have children, but there were certainly days you would love a break from pregnancy, from its symptoms. Like this morning. Which reminded you...

“So,” you asked, “Where’s Hyunjin?”

“He went to the market to go get some fresh ginger,” said Mya, “He wanted to make you some tea, for your stomach, make sure the nausea doesn’t come back. He asked if I could stay with you until he got back, get him if you needed anything.”

You nodded, relaxing back into your pillows. That did sound like Hyunjin.

“He said you had some pretty bad morning sickness earlier,” she continued, expression sympathetic, “He seemed pretty upset about it. To be honest...”

For just a moment your sister scowled, and your heart dropped.

“I was kind of concerned when I heard,” she said, “That it was him. I mean he’s just so...I thought he would be arrogant. But he seems sweet. Very doting.”

A look of guilt passed over her face, just edged with mischief.

“That being said though...and maybe I shouldn’t say this because he is technically now my brother-in-law, and, I mean, I am a married woman, but...” she whispered, lowering her voice a few octaves, “He is unreal. When I saw him I thought my brain broke for a second. Like I’d heard about him but...wow. That face is out of control. ”

You giggled, a little bubble inflating in your heart when you pictured him. And then you remembered how people had looked at both of you together, and it burst.

“I mean...he does have his arrogant moments...but it’s very...specific,” you responded.

“Oh?” said Mya, her eyebrows raising knowingly, “I suppose he did make quick work of things...”

“Mya!” you said.

“Am I wrong?”

You just shook your head disapprovingly, your silence serving as confirmation.

“How was that anyway?” she asked softly, expression sympathetic, “You wouldn’t exactly have gone into that prepared, not with how mother and father raised you.”

“It was...good,” you responded, a little embarrassed by the question and struggling to summarize it, finally landing on “He was gentle, patient. He...knew what he was doing.”

You sister rolled her eyes.

“Ugh, of course he’s good. I’m happy for you...but also frustrated for me. It took my husband months to even find where things were, not to mention what to do with them.”

You chuckled at your sister’s comments, and it escalated into full laughter when you imagined what your mother’s outraged response would be to Mya’s honesty, the aghast expression on your face. While you were laughing, you saw your sisters eyes fall again on your belly.

“Oh! Let me see,” she said, stretching her hands out towards your stomach where the sheets were bunched against it, obscuring its shape. You pulled down the covers, the subtle curve immediately visible underneath your thin nightdress. You sister reached her hand out, tracing the bump.

“Well,” she said, grinning up at you, “You’re definitely pregnant. Almost three months, right? That’s what mother said.”

You nodded.

Still gazing at your bump, a soft smile on her face, she continued, “The first three months have always been the worst for me.”

And then she looked back up at you, eyes serious, “I have no idea how you did that by yourself for like two months while camping.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you said, shrugging, but you could feel the edge of a sob at the base of your throat.

She nodded, knowingly.

“Can I ask...did it happen your wedding night?”

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, feeling awkward. You had never talked about things like this with your sister - you had occasionally talked about her marriage prospects, and then her marriage, but you yourself never had anything to talk about. Whenever your sisters had all been discussing their future matches, you had always felt embarrassed, struggling to find anything to add to the conversation, any way to participate. You hadn’t ever gotten practice talking about the little things, and now she was asking about what was the most intimate moment in your life so far.

But finally, you plucked up enough courage to respond, saying, “Yes...that’s the only time it could have happened.”

“Damn...” she sighed, leaning back on her arms, “That man’s got some power in him.”

You chuckled to yourself. Because perhaps...some power had been bestowed upon him to help you conceive that quickly.

“But...” she continued, now pacing her hand in yours, “How are you feeling about all of it? Besides the morning sickness?”

You opened your mouth, just on the edge of saying that everything was fine, when you stopped yourself. You so desperately wanted help navigating this fog you were in, and your sister looked eager to listen, ready to give advice. So you decided to tell the truth.

“I’m...overwhelmed,” you admitted, “I just don’t feel like I’m...qualified for this? Like even before I set out, when I went to to apothecary, I didn’t even know what to ask for. I don’t have any idea what a baby needs, or how to care for one.”

“Well, that’s not your fault, is it?” she responded with her most reassuring smile, “Mother didn’t exactly prepare you for this. And honestly, no one is really prepared. Everyone is terrified, even if they’re excited.”

“But you...” you countered, “You seemed so poised when you had your first, so calm about everything.”

“Ha!” she replied, “Lies! Look, I had a new marriage, a new alliance to maintain, I had to make it seem like I knew what I was doing. But really I didn’t, it was mostly trial and error. And then by the time I got to my fourth it was like, well, close enough.”

You chuckled at her directness, but you were also thankful to be talking to someone who had been through this, who was willing to give you an unedited version of her experience.

“I also just feel...” you continued, spurred on by her own admission, “Jumbled. I used to have such a sense of who I was, what I was good at, what I wasn’t. But to have Hyunjin, to have this baby, I had to interfere with the alliance. Mess up my job. And now it just feels like I’m bad at everything. Like no matter how hard I try, I keep messing things up, causing problems.”

Your sister listened intently, and paused for a second, chewing through her thoughts.

“Well, first off,” she offered, “It just sounds like you’re growing. You didn’t really have a chance to do that before, right? You developed a very specific skill set, operated within that skill set, and that was your whole life. But now your life has expanded, you’re taking on new roles. The jumble isn’t a terminal state, it’s just an intermediate step.”

“Maybe...” you said, “But regardless, my jumble has caused so much mess. I can’t make everyone else pay the price for this. Cyrus could attack us, this alliance could totally fall apart...I just feel like I keep making wrong decisions, even if it feels right in the moment. I can’t trust myself.”

She waved her hands in the air, swatting away your comment dismissively. You remembered how your father had done the same yesterday. Sometimes he and Mya were unnervingly similar.

“‘Making the best choice’ is an illusion,” she said, “We try to do it, fool ourselves into thinking that we can logic our way into the best possible future. Looking at positives and negatives. But all those positives and negatives are all based on assumptions of how things will play out, and the truth is we have no idea. We spend our whole lives plotting to dodge thing A to just get hit by thing B, which is way worse and we didn’t even think about.”

“You made the best decision you could, in the moment,” she continued, “And maybe things are on a better path than you think? I mean...this, your marriage...I’m told that it’s the will of the gods. So maybe have some faith?”

You took a deep breath, finally feeling like the edge of your guilt was softening just a little, a tiny weight off your shoulders.

“Thank you, Mya,” you said, “Father just really...and I mean he’s not wrong, but he really drilled home how badly I’d messed up.”

She shook her head, inhaling angrily.

“It is easy for him to say,” she said, “Everything in his life has been a choice. The world allows him that. But for us...so much of our lives is defined by what we can do for other people, at our own expense, that any choice inevitably makes us feel guilty. We grow up as the scaffolding on which the men in our clan build their greatness. So if we move at all, things start tumbling down, and we are blamed.”

And you were just about to wrap up the conversation, turn the topic back to something that didn’t leave you feel so raw and exposed, when you felt one final thought prick at your tongue. The thing that haunted you every time you looked at Hyunjin. But you were embarrassed to voice it, especially to her.

“I also just...and I feel stupid for saying this, but whenever I’m out with him, I see people staring, like he’s married to some kind of monster. The disbelief in their eyes that he could want me, it just...”

“Sister...” she said, and he heard the warning in her voice, “It sounds like maybe you aren’t looking in the right direction. Have you forgotten?”

~~~

You are four.

This face is new to you. And so is the way people react to you.

You are sitting next to your sister, nestled between tents, the sun high in the sky. A few feet away, a group of children your age sit in a circle playing. You had tried to join them, as you always did when you saw kids playing, and they had ignored you, moving away.

And so you are looking down, biting your lip, pretending that you are fine.

“Look at me,” says Mya, capturing your attention, “What do you see? How do I look?”

She is looking at you intently, eyes soft, a grin spread across her face.

“Happy?”

“Yes!” she replied, “Correct. I’m happy. I’m happy because you are good, you are kind, because you are my sister and I love you. I am happy to be with you.”

“I know it’s hard, but...how they look at you...” she continued, gesturing to the group of children, “It’s not a reflection of anything. Of you. Look at how the people who really know you look at you. That is all you need to know.”

~~~

“Sister...” she continued, your hand still in hers, “Maybe I’m overstepping here, but I saw how he looked at you today...that man loves you. Really loves you. Regardless of whether or not you think you deserve him, or if you feel like you are complete enough for him, he has decided to be yours. Where he places his love, who he chooses to give himself to - it’s not your decision to make.”

“We’re told that we shouldn’t accept love when we’re in transition. That we should wait until we’re a final, polished product. But Hyunjin loves you now. So let him love you now.”

She took one slow, deep breath, her hand on your cheek, saying “And I want you to really let yourself see the way he looks at you now.”

~~~

You awoke much later, sometime in the evening. You and Mya had talked for hours, filling each other in on the last few months, until fatigue had once again overtaken you and Mya had insisted you return to resting.

You rubbed your eyes, clearing the sleep from your vision, to see Hyunjin’s body hunched over in the semi-darkness, sitting on the corner of the bed, facing away from you. His head was in his hands, and he was scraping his fingers through his hair angrily, just as he had on that rock so many weeks ago.

“Hyunjin?” you asked, startled by his body language, the way he was folded in on himself.

“Oh, you’re up!” he said, his tone light on the surface, but there was something aching beneath it, pulling the initial brightness down. You saw him hastily paw at his face, and when he turned, you could tell that he had been wiping away tears.

Your heart sunk.

~~~

* Part VII Now Available Here :) *

~~~

taglist: @hwangful, @currently-xuxi, @maedesculpaeusoubi

Photo by Lynnsey Schneider on Unsplash

110 notes · View notes

scientiastudy · 2 years

Text

Lay All Your Love on Me (Chapter XI)

Chapter I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII.

Love is blind, deaf, and traitorous.

Word count: 1.8k

Rating: T?

Content: Fluff, major self realizations, manipulation, reincarnation, it gets rated M for exactly 2 seconds

Author's note: Dead week at college is absolutely murdering me so take this self indulgent shorter update bc ??? I need to pass I guess

“You don’t have to,” He coos gently, raising a hand to your face to dry your tears. “Just let me take care of you, sweet thing.”

There’s a small voice in the back of your head screaming that this is wrong, for you to run and never look back, but you push it to the back of your head and reluctantly nod. A grin plasters itself on the Chancellor’s face at your assent and he leans back in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You aren’t sure how much time has passed since your original outburst. The thrum of the Chancellor’s heartbeat against his chest had lulled you into a pleasantly warm headspace as your sobs quieted and your breathing slowly evened out.

Now your upper half is flush with his, your hands and cheek resting on his chest while his heartbeat thumps against your ear. The Chancellor’s arm is draped around your waist holding you both delicately and firmly, like you’re a piece of expensive pottery that may tip and shatter at any moment.

Your hips are slotted between his legs, the trunks of muscle caging you in on both sides. His face is still pressed against the top of your head, absentmindedly pressing kisses into your hair and occasionally mumbling reassurances quietly as his other hand rubs slow circles into your back with his fingertips.

You sleepily preen under his touch like a cat, your mind exhausted from your inner conflict. It almost feels like your rational self has been ejected from your body as you watch yourself cuddle further into his chest. You distantly feel pangs of disgust invade your consciousness, but they are overpowered by the warm and fuzzy feeling slowly taking over your mind.

The warmth slowly spreads until all you can focus on is the weight of Ardyn’s arm against your back and the patterns his fingertips trace on your skin. The distant drumbeat of his heart lulls you further into the sensation, your mind pleasantly empty of anything except Ardyn Ardyn Ardyn.

Above you, the Chancellor smiles to himself as he feels you melt into his touch. Satisfaction thrums through him as you snuggle closer to him, humming contentedly against his chest like a cat.

Months ago you would have never let yourself be in this position, not voluntarily at least. You would have fought him until you had no energy left– scratching, punching, kicking, and biting until your limbs gave out.

Now? Well, you’re preening against the tips of his fingers, your hands not pushing against him but instead pulling him closer.

It’s intoxicating, really. Your hair smells like fresh sylleblossoms and ulwaat berries and the warmth of your form against him is enchanting. Being this close to you after being apart for so long– it’s worth every moment he’d spent in Angelgard.

You may not be the person he once knew, but you are now something so much more. A second chance, a holy altar for him to throw himself at the feet of in supplication. He would burn the entire world for you if it would mean you could rule it together. He would bring you the heads of each of the Six on a platter if you only asked.

The same fire he had seen so many centuries ago in her eyes burned in yours, he had seen it when you made your attempt on his life the very first day. It was a holy fire, incandescent and righteous as you slid your blade across his skin. He saw it again when you resisted his touches, when you fought against him with everything you had.

But beneath that fire, he had seen what there truly was.

Fear. Fear and longing.

He had been forced to watch as those blasted Lucians swept away the rest of your childhood, acting as if it was some sort of honor for you to be turned into a child soldier raised in a “home” that was scarcely more than a bunk and a shower. As you’d been chosen to serve that ungrateful Chosen King as he used you as nothing more than a pawn in his rotation of “friends” that were barely better than hired help.

He had watched how hard you had tried to fit in with them, how you were constantly trying to prove your worth. You had glowed under Ignis’s rare praise and taken on extra training sessions with Gladiolus to keep up your physique.

You wanted to belong, to be loved. Oh, how it had pained him to withhold himself for so long. But now you’re here, as real under his touch as the soil is beneath his feet.

He’s overcome with emotion as he brings his hand to your chin, tipping it up to meet his gaze. Your eyes are glassy with contentment, unconcealed adoration blooming across your features as red begins to dust across your cheeks. You close the distance between the two of you this time, slowly creeping up his chest. Hesitance slows you, but the Chancellor doesn’t mind. It gives him more time to savor your expression as you slowly close the distance between your lips, all your inner conflict from before melted away.

It starts with just a simple peck. The joy that zips through his being at the brief contact has him leaning back in, capturing your lips again in a sweet kiss.

There’s no urgency as you move together, taking the time to bask in the warmth of the feeling as your lips move together. One of his hands moves to cup the small of your back while the other cards through the roots of your hair, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss even further.

When he pulls away he’s stuck by how absolutely enchanting you look. Your pupils are blown wide, your eyes still glassy from whatever sleepy daze you may have been in. Your lips are swollen and red, becoming glossy as you swipe your tongue absentmindedly against your bottom lip. He’s tempted to ravish you right then and there on the couch, his desires raising in the back of his head like a looming shadow.

Not today, not when he’s already gotten so much from you.

So instead he dips his mouth to the slope of your collarbone, latching onto the delicate skin gently with his teeth before gently beginning to suck a mark onto your smooth skin.

He forces himself to tamp down the spark of desire in him again as you roll your head to the side, giving him full access to the area as his hand moves from the center of your back to your waist. When he pulls away you look at him confusedly as he admires his handiwork, bruise slowly blooming at the base of your neck.

“In case Verstael gets any ideas again,” He says, answering your wordless question as he pulls you back into his chest.

You both let the silence settle, comfortable and warm as you bask in each other’s presence. Something shifted in your brain as you lay there, your thoughts slowly sliding away like honey. Why had you ever fought against this? Why had you denied yourself the love you’d been denied for so long? You’d been so tired before, so exhausted from trying to impress people who didn’t love you. Always searching, but never finding any in the coldness of the barracks.

Now you have someone who loves you enough to stay with you even after you’d hurt him so much. Someone who makes you feel loved and tells you how he feels.

You’d been trying to get back to a world that didn’t exist. Noct and the others are dead, and you can’t turn back time to make the Empire un-attack the crown city. You wanted a life that had no future. Would you rather be executed as a royal sympathizer? Waste the life that the Chancellor had saved?

It feels finally tangible now. You slowly untie your hatred, anger, sadness, and grief, shrugging them off like a blanket. You feel a visceral shot of fear go through you as you realize you’re at an emotional precipice, teetering on the edge of an emotion so intense you’re unsure you want to feel it.

But before you can debate it any longer, you feel yourself fall headfirst into the feeling.

Love.

You feel a cold pain of fear in your heart as it consumes you, but you quickly force it down, allowing the feeling to bask over you as you listened to his heartbeat underneath your head.

You love Ardyn Izunia.

The realization should disgust you. It should make you want to scream, cry, anything. But nothing bubbles to the surface, just warm happiness. It’s almost destabilizing, how minor this realization feels.

The you from the beginning of captivity would have been disgusted by current you, would have screamed and called her a traitor for giving in. You can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, though.

You pick up one of your hands from his chest and move his hand off your hair so you can intertwine your fingers. Ardyn hums with satisfaction at this, impressed you’re being so affectionate for once. His hand is large and warm, his rough palms and calloused fingers contrasting your softened hands. Your callouses from years of training still remained, but your skin had smoothened and softened over time somewhat.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, little dove?” He asks as his free hand draws lazy circles on your back.

“Too much,” You reply, still unsure what to do with your realization. For some reason fear still held you back, and you felt some irrational embarrassment at your epiphany.

“Specifics, sweetheart,” He requested, and your cheeks flamed at his words. Does he know? No! He can’t know!

“Uh-” You so desperately want to say it, to get the feeling off your chest, but that primal fear from before stops you. Almost like it’s trying to warn you.

“I- Uh-” You scrunch up your face as you try to force the words out, trying to calm the wild beating of your heart.

“I think I love you,” You blurt out, your face getting hot with embarrassment as you saw the grin that grew on the man’s face at your words. Before you knew it he had flipped your positions, pinning you against the couch as he consumed your lips in a searing kiss.

“You have absolutely no idea how ecstatic that makes me darling,” He replies, and for a moment you’re afraid he won’t say it back.

“I’ve loved you since the second I saw you.”

You giggle with glee at his words, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before flopping back down to the couch.

Maybe everything is going to be okay.

#ffxv ardyn #ardyn #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ffxv #ignis #ignis scientia #gladio #gladiolus amicitia #ffxv x reader

31 notes · View notes

giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part III

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, brief mentions of blackmail and prostitution, all characters are adults.

Words: 1135.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

___________

Bewildered by Steve’s words, you froze, still hoping it was all a joke. He had literally made a schedule for you. What then? Were they going to assign each other roles or something? Make a play out of it?

“Of course, I will finish working on a set of rules soon. I need a couple more days, I think.” Rogers said, and Bucky’s eyes rolled skyward.

“Steve, please. Don’t you think it’s too much?” He breathed out tiredly and rubbed his face, others staring at his best friend with the same expression of disinterest.

“I’m not going to set some draconian rules to make your life more difficult. But we need to know when most students leave the main building, when it's safe to be in the library, and so on. That’s what I’ll be working on.”

Well, that didn’t sound too bad, but you thought that Steve, someone who was used to being a leader, could also get used to giving orders to all of you. You certainly did want it to happen because now it looked more and more like some police operation rather than a school play you thought of first.

“Anyway, it’s getting late.” Loki got up the sofa, and you stared at his well-cut black jacket and pants that fit him perfectly - no doubt, they were made specially for him by a tailor. “Since it’s Tuesday, I guess it’s my turn to walk the lady back to the dorm.”

He sounded very sarcastic, and you shivered, not very eager to stay alone with him, but others were already getting up, intending to leave. Dammit. Out of them all Loki seemed the least harmless, and you dreaded walking the empty corridors with him. Why nobody objected to him being in this protection squad?

“Don’t try anything stupid.” Bucky snorted as he passed by the guy who was supposed to be your personal guard for this evening, and Loki sent him a sly smile as if he definitely wanted to try something others wouldn’t like.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

Nodding, you left the student council room and tried to keep your distance - you hoped he wouldn’t curl his arm around your waist or touch you anyhow because the thought made your stomach churn. Loki definitely saw it in your face, and his smirk got wider.

Keeping quiet, you were walking together until you left the main building. Out of all people, why did he agreed to something like that? Maybe you could understand why Peter got involved, but Loki? He seemed the misanthropic kind who wanted to do nothing with people. Judging by the way he looked, talked, and moved, he was brought up in a wealthy family. Loki had an air of superiority around him the way Steve had, but he was different: while Steve seemed to be carrying a burden, Loki enjoyed the effect he had on people.

Why somebody like him was getting involved in your mess? For the sheer sense of control?

“No need to be so afraid.” He said nonchalantly, and you pursed your lips like you’d been chewing a lemon rind. Yes, it was definitely for the sense of control.

“I’m not afraid. Not of you, at least.” You sighed. “You don’t look like a person who’d be walking around stealing girls’ lingerie.”

“What if I am?”

Scoffing, you raised your head to look him in the eyes - Loki was rather tall, and you were forced to look up at him.

“If you ever needed a girl’s underwear, I bet you’d just go and ask for it. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend or something.”

Funny enough, now his attitude was making you act way braver than in the student council room just a couple of minutes ago. For some reason, just his expression alone was making you want to stand up to him, despite the fact Loki didn’t say anything offensive to you. You didn’t feel scared at all as if all fear vanished once you left the room.

“Can’t say you’re wrong. Although I don’t have a girlfriend at the moment, I could take a taxi to the city right now, go to a club and pay some girl to do whatever I want.” The naked truth made you frown, but Loki carried on as if nothing had happened. “But it's getting... old.”

Was he so rich to the point he would do this? Was it something so casual to him he spoke of it freely? You thought you’d never really met a person who openly admitted they paid to a prostitute. Well, obviously, Loki couldn’t care less about opinions of others, you included.

“This doesn’t explain why you agreed to help me. I don’t think you’d come just because Steve asked you to.”

“True. I just thought it would be entertaining.”

Watching the dormitory building growing bigger in front of you with your every step, you bit down on your lower lip. It was exactly as you thought, Loki simply wanted an entertainment while having someone under his control to please his ego.

Although it didn’t look nice, at least he wasn’t among those creeps who had been following you and stealing your things. If any of them were to disturb you, you had a feeling Loki would me most displeased - if you were to be in his care, somebody messing with you would probably make him feel like he's not in control, and it would make him furious, you thought.

“Listen, I’m being serious. I know what effect I have on people, and I’m not surprised you don’t like me.” He suddenly said, and you tensed again. “But I’m not the one you have to be worrying about. I’m not here to trick you into thinking I’m your knight in shining armor. You better be careful around the others. They’ll do whatever it takes to gain your favors.”

Suddenly stopping before you two could enter the dorm, he asked you for your phone number and gave you a quick call to ensure you would have his contact details when you might need him.

Perplexed by his words to the point you lost your vigor, you wanted to ask him who exactly he was talking about, but then you thought Loki meant all of them, all other four guys who seemed more or less harmless to you. Did he say that because he wanted to gain your favors? Or was it because he knew something about them you didn't?

____________

"Just don't act like a silly little sheep around them. I know you got a sharp tongue, so you better remember it when they'll try to force you do something they want. Steve's right about one thing: people need to know you can protect yourself. Those four have to remember it, too."

Part IV

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegarden @goodgodimaweirdperson

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark thor #dark loki #dark peter parker #yandere

343 notes · View notes

ellitx · 4 years

Text

Chapter 9: Infatuation

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to rome

warning: NSFW content ahead

word count: 5.9k

The rain pounded down, each drop is a small stone, piercing cold. It was still early when the clouds gave off their rain to the grass and trees when the road became alive with more splashes than your eyes could appreciate. Yet together they brought together such a soothing sound, a natural melody every bit as beautiful as soulful hum.

Soon the drizzle turned into a heavy downpour. The sky turned dark as the rain fell rapidly to the ground. Venti grabbed your hand and pulled you to follow him to find a nearby shelter to rest.

It’s been hours since it started and there are still no signs of dying down. Your lips drew out a sigh and watched in silence the pitter-pattering of the droplets on the ground. The bard sat on a nearby ledge and stared at your back, absently tracing the shape of your figure.

His mind wandered of how a certain traveler touched you. It brought great bitterness in his mouth, the taste causing him to have a foul mood for an umpteenth time on this day. How many more outcomes will continue to mess with his mood? He already had enough of it and he refrained himself from losing his temper at the vexing events.

He clenched his fists angrily. The audacity of Aether holding you while you’re asleep and the moment he’s away. His displeasure would come like an impossible build up steam, burning him on the way out, burning the one on the receiving end.

You’ve been tainted.

The idea of your purity and innocence being corrupted swarmed his mind. The thought of another man other than him holding and touching you began to aggravate him even more. If you happen to meet him, will you leave him? His nails digging into his palm caused him to bleed without his knowledge, yet his mind is placed elsewhere.

Not good…

Emerald orbs watchfully kept an eye solely on your form. His breathing was ragged and shaky, his attention meandering everywhere that can’t help still itself. Not good. Not good. Not good. Not good.

Then it was the breaking point of his patience. At that moment, his head was blinded by a fiery serving of rage, fear, and dread all mixed up together that tasted so bitter. He wanted to reach out to you yet his mind is too corrupted to make sense of his surroundings.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Venti’s form was hunched. The way his hands tightly gripped onto his hair immediately worried you if something’s wrong. His hands were shaking vigorously thus you quietly but swiftly approached him and checked up to see what’s going on.

You brushed away his fringe and let your palm rest on his forehead. Your body jolted in surprise at the intense burning heat he was emitting and you grew even more concerned if he has a fever.

In the storm he was facing, in this wind that howls inside of him, you are the gentle center. He decided to indulge himself at your soft touch and rest at your side. It’s becoming torturous that he had to endure everything. You were too close, your scent is becoming so intoxicating— too addicting, your touches were so light he wanted you to press your palm against him even more.

He wanted you so badly. He wants to let everyone know you only belong to him. That they should know where to keep their hands to themselves, but he has to control himself. He doesn’t want to scare you and that’s the last thing he ever wanted.

His pulse sped up and his breathing turned shallow. Of course, he was addicted to you— but for every reason, that is pure and right. You are his safety and his love, an anchor he holds onto, that he was able to pull himself together.

You always give him warmth, consistent love, and patience. That’s why he loves you so much, why his nature trusted you before his mind could too. Innocent, honest, pure, and full of naïveté. What more words can he use to describe you? You are literal perfection to him, you’re just too innocent for him and he can’t control himself anymore the more he thinks about you.

“[Name],”

Venti grabbed your wrist, firm but gentle, and pulled you close. Your whole face flushed when he buried his face on your neck and started biting your neck, giving subtle sucks and licks causing you to slip short moans before shutting it quickly with your hand. He settled you on his lap, straddling the sides of his legs, while his hands roamed over your skirt and lifted it up feeling your soft thighs.

You shut your eyes tightly and gripped his shoulders, not knowing what to do whilst you wonder what’s with the sudden change of his behavior. He tucked your hair behind and gently angled your head to the side to gain more access to your neck and continue nibbling it nonstop.

Your breath turned shaky and a shiver ran down your nerves when his lips brushed your cheek, a shiver that made your whole body tremble. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you still said nothing, he moved downwards and lightly kissed your throat. “Or now.” Then he traced the line of your cheekbone, he was so close to you, your lips almost brushing together.

It took you a lot of courage to reach up to him and shyly pull him down to you, his voice was lost against your mouth. He kissed you softly, carefully, and each second that has passed made his kisses intense. The gentleness was now gone and you knotted your fist on his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

He groaned softly, low on his throat, and then his arms encircled you, gathering you against him. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, almost demanding— unlike the last time you did it together— and it’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced. You began to melt, the feeling of his tongue playing with yours caused your whole system to shut down and get lost to the pleasurable sensation he’s doing to you.

Your nails dug deeper on his skin as your veins throbbed and your heart speeding up. Venti opened his eyes and observed your burning face, almost glowing under the raining sky.

He clearly knows he wants you.

All he wanted is just you and nothing else more. The closeness of your body against him is extraordinary. He feels you— all of you— pressed against him just like how he wanted, and he can detect your fragrance. It’s the most addicting scent he could ever imagine. He wants to breathe you, lick you, eat you, drink you, everything as long as he can touch and feel your whole body.

He pulled down your sleeves and untied the ribbon until it made your dress fall off your shoulders, slightly exposing your chest for him. You quivered at the cold winds hitting your skin as his hands started to fondle your supple breasts.

You looked away from him, trying your best not to get embarrassed while he continued to play with your perked nubs and started to give small licks whilst he looked at you. Please, he can do anything with you as long as he doesn’t keep staring and giving you that lustful gaze! You can’t handle it— you really can’t—

“Ngh~!”

You quickly covered your mouth at the sound you have made. His suctions intensified when he heard your cute moan, his hand held your back and dragged you closer. Oh, how he wished to just seize that hands of yours and release all the sounds you produce from his pleasuring, though he didn’t want to risk attracting nearby entities here.

“V-Venti,” You clutched on his shoulders, eyes turning glossy that tears were beginning to form in the corner. “We shouldn’t— we shouldn’t do this here.” You bit back a moan as you stammered. Then your body sharply jerked when he flicked out his tongue and bit on your nipple, bringing you to draw a sharp cry at the sudden action.

His ministrations didn’t cease, though you can see how he raised his hand in the air and closed it into fists. A strong gust of wind flashed past your bare skin, the air chilling your whole body you almost felt frozen on the spot. Your eyes caught the sight of some kind of barrier surrounding the shelter and before you could inspect it further, Venti held your head and pulled you down to a deep kiss.

If what worries you is being caught, then there’s no need to worry about it anymore. He had already created a mist to hide this place and no one can find it as long as he holds the command to the winds. You’ve already accepted his invite and it’s unfair if you’re backing out already.

He yanked your dress until they were out of the way and put them aside, his left hand latched on your wrist to prevent you from covering yourself while the other untied the ribbon fixed on your hair. Your surprised demeanor took him the chance to use the cloth to bind your wrists together, tight but not too much that can hurt you.

He then reached for the ribbon on his cape and loosened it, leaving the cape to fall off from his shoulders as he stretched out towards you to give you one more kiss before he wrapped the cloth over your eyes. Everything went dark and your heart beat faster than ever, you can feel it ring on your ears so loudly that he might even hear how loud it was.

A small lump was sitting on your throat and you let out a shaky breath when he turned you around, your back facing his chest. You can sense how he breathes behind you, hot air down your back which is starting to sweat and slipped down on his clothes. You didn’t want him to see your face now that it is blowing up inside, red and burning hot, grimacing at how his hands slowly wandered dangerously close to your core.

His hands moved so agonizingly slow, it choked you. You swallowed hard in anticipation.

He presses your naked back against his chest fully and your mind went blank all of a sudden.

His fingers slowly go further up your thighs as he rubs small circles into your skin and observes how your breathing picks up from such a simple movement.

He must’ve presumed it’s an indication of excitement, he even attempted to run his hand over your panties, applying the minimum amount of pressure possible to further watch your reaction. Your lips parted and a soft whimper came out. You refrain yourself from grinding against his hand. You didn’t want to aggravate him and the only way is to obey his words if you want his attention to be solely focused on you.

He doesn’t hesitate when he sets aside your panties, brushing his finger around your hardening clit before burying one inside, curling it the way he knows you like it best. You mewled under his touch, trying to hide your voice by biting down on your lips.

You wanted to hold back your moans but it’s almost impossible if he continues to curl his fingers inside you like this, his long digits effortlessly massaging that one spot inside you that turns all your thoughts fuzzy, clouding it with nothing but the feeling of his fingers plunging your insides.

The pleasure you felt intensified and grew even stronger the more he resumed his ministrations. He grows bolder now with his touches, the movements of his fingers quicker now than before that it’s practically a struggle to keep quiet. You bit your lip, hard, desperate not to make a sound, that you could even taste the blood sipping to your tongue.

Your lover hissed as he pumps a second finger inside of you, barely able to make it fit. You squeezed around him every time he presses deeper, your tight cunt almost begging for more even though he wonders if he’ll be able to make anything fit.

“Ahn~! Venti~ hah…”

A moan crawls free from your throat when he presses his fingers against your sweet spot. And once he watches how it makes you gasp and whimper, he gets addicted to it, moving his fingers harsh and fast.

“Shh,” he hushed you near your ears, nibbling and giving teasing licks on the tip, but his voice has no real edge to it. His gaze is soft as he studies your flushed expression, nothing but adoration filling those crystal green eyes as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you.

Your eyes are scrunched tight and your head is settled on his shoulder as he continues to fuck you with his long fingers, practiced digits sliding in and out in ease, curling into that one special spot that always has you crying out for more. You begin to jerk your hips forward to meet his fingers, unable to hold your body back.

“I-I’m close…” you mumbled shyly, closing your eyes when you feel your orgasm drawing near.

“Already?” He teases, but his tone is gentle. You can feel the smirk creeping up to his face even if you can’t see anything. You gulped down and looked away from timidity.

“Hold it a bit longer for me, will you?” You nodded your head and pressed your thighs together when his fingers went deeper inside. He continuously draws it again and again as the pressure inside you is threatening to release.

He moved his fingers in and out three more times, almost rhythmic in his gestures. You want to hold it a bit more, you really do. But his digits playing your clit and curling it around just feels so good that you wanted to release so badly. Your tied hands attempted to reach to find his wrist to catch his attention, it was successful, however, he didn’t dare to stop.

His lips brushed the side of your neck, biting it softly that made your breaths quickened.

“Venti— I’m so close, please! I-I can’t hold it anymore...!”

Your walls clamped down on his fingers with a needy call of his name, as if unable to recall anything other than him and how he’s making you feel this way.

You cried loudly as your body trembled from the increasing tension inside. His fingers were moving faster, deeper, and harder. You curl your toes and square your shoulders, the moans you’ve released can be heard out loud from the ruins if Venti hadn’t quiet you down with a haste kiss.

He let out a sharp hiss when your nails dug into his skin firmly. You don’t know where else to hold on, hands frantically searching anywhere for a hard surface to grip on.

“Please— Venti...!” The blindfold was getting damped while tears fell from the sides of your face as you begged.

“Come.”

In an instant, you feel the familiar pressure rising in you, building up even further—and then you’re cumming on him, slit spasming and clenching all at once as he brushes your folds with his thumb. You’ve released your orgasm all over his hand that smeared his skin— Venti silently adoring the stickiness of your essence and the way it gleams under the raining sky.

Your thighs tremble around his fingers long after he stops moving them, and when your voice has finally died out, he untied the knot from the blindfold, letting it fall onto your shoulder.

You shut your eyes at the blinding light, adjusting yourself to regain your focus that was all blurred and hazy. He withdrew his fingers from you and raised it to study your cum that spread all over him. He looked at you then called your name as he pulled you close.

“Open your mouth.” The sudden command made you jolt in your seat. You looked over your shoulder and raised your brow at him.

“Huh?”

“Open your mouth.” He repeated once more. Hesitantly, you meekly complied to his words, lips parting a bit that was too small for his likeness, but he didn’t complain. He deliberately dragged his fingers inside your mouth and you can taste your essence after he just fingered you.

“Suck on it.”

A command like that would only lead you to a mounting embarrassment catching your entire body aflame, but it wasn't as though you could deny him. Whatever he wanted from you. That was the deal. Still, quieting your moans from his pleasing ministrations would be a difficult task.

Closing your eyes, you brushed your tongue on his salty digits, lapping up all the slicks that came from you. Venti moaned in surprise as your teeth grazed his finger. His eyes meeting yours with a desperation that made you squirm.

He cursed under his breath and buried his face on the crook of your neck pulling you close to his chest. He bit his lower lip and peered at your flushed face that continued to drink his fingers dry. God, the feeling of your tongue giving him small licks then sucking it shyly riled him up so much, urging him to go further.

He bit down on your shoulder gratingly, causing your back to arch in surprise, and choked yourself. Hearing your muffled noise made him draw his hand out in panic. You panted heavily and your lips trembled with each outlet of air, taking in deep breaths as you do so. He can faintly see a small drool slipping down the corner of your lips.

His heart raced at the sight of it and his body went hot abruptly. He took off his hat and put it aside somewhere. He continued to gaze at your disheveled state, swallowing the lump sitting on his throat while he continued to undress.

His hands rummaged to unbutton his shirt, leaving the top open until his chest was bare for you to see, the mark that was the same as yours on his chest faintly gleaming.

His hand flew to your neck to pull you into a deep kiss. You’re quick to indulge him, moaning lightly when Venti bit on your lip and let his tongue dart inside.

You wished to look at his face, expecting only that the expression of aesthetic delight you might find there would correspond to what you knew was your own. But you’d didn’t even catch a glimpse of his face, so instantaneous and urgent was his tongue. It overpowered all the senses that sought to reach some unreachable end from you.

Before Venti could withdraw, his mind was far from its place. His arms were around you and he felt again the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of your warmth that left him limp. Your quiet and heated self was blurred and drowned into nothingness.

He bent back your head and kissed you once more. He never gets tired of your kisses and the softness of your lips brushing against his. You clung to him to keep yourself still in your cloudy and hazy mind that was drowning and enjoying the sensation of his lips.

Your kisses were so docile and gentle. So slow and soothing it sends his mind to go all over in place the more he feels your lips pressed against his that he’s begging for more.

Within minutes, his lips are moving against yours, slow and steady, and his hands crept up to hold you by the small of your waist.

You only continued your ministrations, squeezing and massaging his chest as you slowly grind against his thighs.

Time seemed to slow down for him when he opened his eyes, and it dawned on him you’re playing with his mouth— biting and sucking on it before you let out your tongue to alleviate any pains you have caused him.

Your eyes were now shut as well and he noticed you seem to be taking your time to enjoy this moment. Your hips moving back and forth for a more subtle pressure against him and your face— words aren’t even enough to describe how beautiful you are to him— looked so peaceful, so flushed from the orgasm, from the kisses and yet it’s so serene for him.

He can’t help but think that you really are beautiful.

He extended out his hand and untied the cloth wrapped to your wrists, his hands guiding your arms to envelop them around his shoulders. One-touch and the intoxication is instant. Whatever you want to do is what he’ll do and there isn’t a thing he can do to stop you— not that he’d want to.

Just your scent sent him to a heady trance, one that doesn’t end until your bodies are still once more, just warm and snuggled in as close as two souls can be. Venti kissed the center of your chest, tracing out the outlines of the teal mark on your skin with featherlight kisses.

A small laugh escaped from you at the ticklish feeling, your hands tangling to his hair and removing the hair tie on his braids. You kissed the top of his head and caressed his hair lovingly whilst he enjoys himself burying his face between your breasts.

He really is captivated by just your own presence.

Your eyes shut as your heart throbbed as loud as the rain on the tin roof above you. Venti took in your perked nubs in his mouth, finding himself hungry as he was for you. Unreserved fire and desire ran through his nerves, his tongue hastily licking then lapping, tasting your sensitive nipples causing you to release a shaky moan.

The need to touch, be touched, to take and give, nearly overwhelmed you. He placed you on his thighs, holding your hips and helping your body to grind against him, creating more of that delicious friction between the two of you.

Hunger surged inside him. A demand.

More.

"Mhm~!"

You hid your face against his shoulder and bit on it to hold back the moan threatening to leave your lips. Venti hissed, both in bliss and pain, and thrust his hips to meet yours. You were panting heavily against him, the hot breath on his skin excited him further and he can’t get enough of it.

The touch of his hands was so warm on your drenched skin that sent another burst of heat straight to your core and it ached you how you wanted him inside you so badly. He can already sense how damp his short was that came from your leaking cunt.

“Venti…” you whined at the agonizing pain from your core that you could only feel his length against the cloth that separated you from him. “Please… I… I really need you…”

Hearing your words instantly made his mind blank out of nowhere. Did he hear you right? You need him? Is he dreaming? Is this reality?

“Venti, please…!”

He snapped out from his thoughts and looked at your pleading face. If you keep begging like that— face flushed, lips quivering, brows knitted together, eyes glistening with tears— he wouldn’t hold back his lust for you.

He quickly recomposes himself and reaches up to caress your cheek, flashing a gentle smile in your direction. You leaned on his tender touch— a sign that you’re giving him consent and accepting his love for you. The edge of his lips twitched upwards into a small smile, a genuine one at that. “I’ll handle the rest. Close your eyes and relax for me.”

You slowly bobbed your head and proceeded to bury your face on his neck. Venti started to remove your soaked panties, dragging them along your thighs until they were out from your feet and throwing them aside. Your hold tightened, legs trembling from the sheer coldness of the rainy weather. He softly hushed you as he rubbed his hand against your hips to calm you.

You’re getting desperate. Your toes curled in impatience, whining his name once more to remind him you needed him inside you now. “Impatient, are we?” He teasingly cooed to which you hide in embarrassment that he caught you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to it soon.” He assured before pecking your hair.

He rested his palm on your hip, helping you lift yourself up as he quickly removed his garments and carefully guided you to his erect length. There’s a choked gasp from his lips when he feels your pussy slowly enveloping his cock, a shudder running up his spine when your hands fly from his cheeks to his shoulders to support yourself.

He instinctively gripped your hips, helping you lower down at your own pace until he was now fully inside of you. You whimper under your breath, feeling yourself start to stretch around him, how it’s becoming more painful than you’ve expected as each second passed by.

He noticed how your chest quickly heaved up and down, panting heavily and moaning audibly with your head tilted sideward. He laced his hand with yours, your fingers tightening until he was all the way inside your tight cunt.

“Hng… S-so good but it hurts!”

You take a shaky breath as soon as he’s fully sheathed inside of you. His heart drops, beginning to panic that you were clearly in pain.

The uneven pace of your breathing is the most obvious thing he noticed, the way your nails are practically digging into his shoulders and the way you’re biting your lip to hide any pained whimpers made it even clearer that he should have prepared you for this better. Did he not stretch you enough when he fingered you?

You take a moment to collect yourself. Venti waits patiently, forcing his hips to remain still every time he feels the urge to jerk upwards, and his efforts are rewarded when you slide your hips upward only to pull them down, eliciting a breathy moan from your lover.

You repeat the same motion once. Then you do it again. And again. And again. And you keep rising and falling on his shaft at these uneven intervals until one angle has you gasping out an unexpected moan.

Venti locked his eyes with you, his hands guiding your hips to move up and down on his length.

You repeated the ministration, head rolling backward when you came down and another breathy gasp spilled from your lips.

And then the slow, tentative fucking completely stops and you’re riding him without hesitation, fingers digging into his back as you moan freely.

It tempted him to jerk his hips upwards to meet yours, to listen to that moan that slipped from your bruised lips. And when he gave in to his desires, his thrust had you gasping and crying out a moan, so breathy and shaky that he engraved it inside his head of how cute and lewd you sounded for him. Then he solely dedicated himself to bounce you in his lap at this angle— one that kept you crying his name endlessly.

All his fingers were mindlessly traveling all over your body to keep you gasping and moaning and clenching and enjoying everything he offers you.

“P-p-please—” you gasped out.

Harder, you want to tell Venti, because he’s being painfully gentle with how slow his thrusts become when your body is already willing to take so much more.

Faster. Deeper. The words bounced around in your mind mockingly as you try to whine your way into getting him to understand them.

Your body sharply twitched when he sunk his cock into you deeply at an alarming pace that your voice was broken when you wailed. Venti doesn’t know what you’re asking for, so he delivers everything he can offer to you. From his mouth latching to your nipples— biting, licking, and sucking on it when your breasts kept bouncing on his face so tauntingly. To his hand going down to rub your clit and to his hips as he gave another harsh thrust against you. All your please and wishes for him are already being granted and he won’t let a single one miss.

There’s no pain as he pushes inside you, only the overwhelming pleasure is filling you up. It’s like your body was specially created for him with how snugly his cock rests inside you, and you almost whined when he pulled you out to begin thrusting because of how much you love the feeling of him inside you.

The loud wail of pleasure you gasped within return tells him that whatever he did, he did it perfectly. You love every single thing he’s doing to you. All of his sensual touches and ministration are making your mind go all hazy, so lost that you could only think of him and his cock inside you.

He can feel something building in your body, your core beginning to tighten around him, and you roll your head back as he continues to bounce you in his lap. Your back is arched so tightly that he worries that you’ll hurt yourself in this position if he fucks you any longer.

Your breasts bounced each thrust he did sending your mind to go on cloud nine, seeing stars with how he keeps hitting that one spot as you wail loudly from the intensive pleasure. Venti watches your figure cautiously, trying his hardest not to shatter the moment, but he finds it impossible when all he can think about is how dangerously your head hangs, how he fears that it's going to roll off if he continues this vicious pace.

“[Name]…” His chest heaved when he said your name. “I love you,” his grip on your waist tightened, pace quickening with each thrust. “I want to fill you up— Moan my name, please. [Name], [Name], [Name]— I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much.“

He can feel himself growing addicted to this feeling, of your wetness around his cock and of your body being so willing to accept him to his fullest. He continued admiring how your eyes are clouded and filled with lust. How your whole face is so erotic for him, your lips drawing out his name, begging to go faster and deeper into you.

“Venti, Venti, Venti— Ah~!! Faster, deeper, please, I beg of you!! Oh god— I-I-“

Nails gripping and scratching both on his shoulders and back, you desperately feel the need to steady yourself, a desire you indulged by wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. A particularly harsh thrust has you gasping out loud, one that sends your mind reeling, cloudy, and blurry. You heard a low groan from him when you harshly bit on his shoulder to muffle down your noises and it turned you on so much you began to feel the pressure inside you increasing.

He feels the beginning of your orgasm before you warn him of it, your body going stiff right as your nails begin to dig into his back. You clamped your thighs around his waist to pull him closer and deeper to you, he continues fucking you, and this is what has you gasping when he pushes you to your climax with a single perfectly-aimed thrust.

“Venti, Venti, Venti—” His name falls from your lips like a chant, every repetition of his name louder with each utter left from your lips. “Right there— don’t stop— hng! Yes, yes, hah~ Venti—”

You moaned his name as you cum around his cock, and it’s to this sensation that he finds himself being pushed over the edge, he tightened his hands where they hold yours so delicately as he pressed forward and buried his head in your neck, the world around him fading as he loses himself in the sensation of you.

For a moment, everything went still.

Your legs tensed around his waist, desperately holding onto your lover as if holding onto the moment. As if trying to savor the sensation of his cock spilling his hot seed into you like you can make it last longer by clinging onto him tighter— and neither of you moved.

There’s only the sound of Venti’s heavy breathing and your muffled panting, both of your minds clouded by pleasure. Your body went limp and he catches you easily as he lets you lean against him to regain your energy.

Once you found the stamina to move, you hummed on his neck and lightly nibbled on it that caused him to softly chuckle. He let you do whatever you pleased while his fingers ran through your long hair that sticks on your sweating body. His head toppled backward, finding his eyelids growing heavier, which allowed you to gain more access to play with his throat using your mouth.

You felt his esophagus vibrated and that’s when you know he was satisfied with your short and quick treatment.

“Venti~” You cooed, smiling as you kissed his nose. Then you went to peck his eyelids, to his cheek, forehead, and lastly to his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction with the sensation of your lips and breasts gently pressed against his. Your fingers then traced the diamond design marked on his chest, silently awing of how it lightly glowed whenever you touched it.

He was still inside you and you seem unaware of it. Maybe the slightest movement can make your whole body sharply twitch or even your walls tighten around his cock in surprise. As much as he’d love to do that and tease you, he kept himself still and just relished in how warm and tight you are taking his whole length even after the recent orgasm he’s done to you.

Venti groaned when you began to pull out of him, his tired arms failed to keep you in place on his lap. Your whole face reddened at the realization that he was desperate to be inside of you, you quickly averted your gaze away from him and reached for your dress to cloth yourself.

However, your hand stopped midway when he called your name. You looked over your shoulder and tilted your head. “Wear my shirt,” He told you under his draped arm that covered his eyes. “Your dress is too thin and it’s still raining.” He reasoned before you could ask.

A small oh elicited from you. Your heart fluttered at the thought he was concerned for your wellbeing. You took the shirt from the ground and slipped your arms in the sleeves, your skin slightly warmed when the soft cotton covered your upper body. Your cheeks flared a bit when you took in the familiar scent lingering on this shirt. It reminded you of him though you faintly smelled something mildly bitter that you don’t recognize.

Your nose scrunched up at the unpleasant scent despite how you can mostly detect the sweet fragrance of fresh cecilias in it. Venti motioned you to come to him, his eyes begging and arms spread out already welcoming you to be next to him. You sighed at his clingy antics yet smiled a bit in amusement at how cute he was.

You grabbed his cape first before settling on his lap once again, ready to indulge him a bit with your affections. “Cover yourself first.” You reminded and draped the green coat to his front. “Hmm,” He snuggled on your hand and placed his head on your chest.

He drifted into consciousness, then back out. The world began to blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of his thoughts. A brush of a finger caressing his head momentarily brought him back to the outside world, but after a second he was once again lost.

The whole world felt so slow to him, and he tried to keep his eyes open, he really did, but it was too hard, and he was comfortable laying against you. Soon that was all that he was aware of: your soft skin embracing his cold body, the warmth of your arms wrapped around him. His eyes began to drift closed. He was blissfully unaware of what was going around him.

Everything about him feels heavy from his arms to his feet. Hands absently holding your waist, closing his eyes one more time to enjoy the brief darkness as he muttered faintly against your chest,

“Don’t leave me.”

@genshin-idiot

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere venti x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin impact reader insert #venti #yandere venti #yandere #elliwrites #Illusory Sense

576 notes · View notes

inmyfxith · 3 years

Text

Link, Part III.

Pairing: Ragnarssons x sister!reader

Words: 1 864

Part. I, Part. II, Part. IV, Part. V, Part VI, Part. VII, Part. VIII.

As the days passed, it became harder for you to cope with your mother's death. You had been forced by the situation to change your lifestyle, living in a more humble house, sleeping in the same room as Ubbe, and taking care of the food.

The grief was still too much in your mind and heart, unlike your brothers, you had experienced it first hand. You had been inches away from your mother when her body fell to the ground. Sitting in a chair, your eyes could not leave the flames of the fire that Ubbe had lit to warm you. The flames reflected in your eyes like those that had sent your mother to Valhalla. Without really realizing it, you were touching the scratch that Lagertha's arrow had left with your fingertips.

Ubbe gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from the scab you had just scratched.

"You'll end up hurting yourself." Sitting down beside you, your brother grabbed a piece of cloth before tending to your arm. Once that was done, he took your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him before he repeated that together you were safe. Just as he was about to take you in his arms, a man stormed into your house to inform your brothers of the arrival of a Saxon ship. Ivar had returned.

While Ubbe and Sigurd went to help your brother get home, you quickly made him something to eat. When you saw him, the first thing you did when you saw him was to take him in your arms and tell him how happy and grateful you were to the gods to see him alive. He was too weak to refuse contact. Pulling up a chair, you gave him a glass of ale before sitting on Ubbe's lap to listen to what Ivar had to say.

Revenge was one of the only words that came out of Ivar's mouth. He wanted revenge on King Ecbert and King Ælle who had both sent your father to his death.

"Father is dead?" you innocently asked, and the look Ivar gave you answered your question without even having to open his mouth. You lowered your head, dreading the moment when your brothers would tell him the bad news. Sigurd took care of it, but you couldn't listen to that again. You stood up, hands covering your ears, waiting for him to finish speaking before returning to the fire.

Probably fearing your brothers more than you, the new queen of Kattegat kept a constant eye on your family. You were always surrounded by shieldmaidens when you went to the market to buy food.

While Ubbe and Sigurd were swimming, you stayed on the grass beside Ivar. You told him the truth, that you couldn't bear to lose him too. As he had done before all this happened, he didn't move, he didn't say a word, but you needed to tell him. That need to talk had arisen again when, while half the people of Kattegat had gathered in the Great Hall, you had stayed with Ivar in your little house. You told him everything that had happened while he was away from home, from your days on the bridge to the moment when your whole life collapsed before your eyes.

After you had told everything, you felt liberated and asked Ivar to tell you what had happened to him in England and how Ragnar had surrendered to King Ecbert without resistance. It was the first time Ivar had let his emotions show so much, ending with a feeling you knew all too well, anger.

You followed him into the Skali, trying to stand straight before Lagertha as your brother threatened her. Discomfort, that was what your expression showed, especially when Lagertha called you over to talk to you alone for a moment. Your gaze met Ivar's, filled with anger before you turned to Ubbe who nodded that he would be there if needed and that once again, everything would be fine.

You stood paralyzed as she explained to you the reason why she had to do what she did. Contrary to what you might have thought, she apologized for unwittingly making you witness such a situation. As the tears began to roll down your cheeks, Lagertha frowned in pity before hugging you. You don't know what came over you, but you put your head on her shoulder before letting all the sadness, anxiety, and tension that had filled you since Hvitserk and Bjorn left, come out in sobs.

Caressing your hair, she assured you that she would never take it out on you but that she could not say the same for your brothers. Gradually coming to your senses, you apologized for your behavior, to which she responded with a sympathetic smile before you joined your brothers, curious to know what Lagertha was talking about with you.

You spent the rest of the day near the beach with Ubbe, who was preparing arrows for his next hunting trip. For the first time since his return from Hedeby, you spoke to him without the urge to cry or complain about anything. However, as your gaze was lost on the horizon, a man approached you both. Gray-haired, one eye missing, it could only be one person, Odin himself had come to tell all of Ragnar's children that their father had died, alone, in England, and that his body lay in a land unfit for the man he was.

Even though you didn't know Ragnar any better than that, the pain you could read on your brothers' faces hurt.

Waking up in Ivar's arms was a strange feeling, something you had never had the chance to experience before. You had never felt so close to him and you felt protected.

He had crawled into bed with you the night before after you explained over dinner that you were having trouble sleeping because you were afraid of reliving the previous days over and over again. Your head resting on his chest, his arm around you, his heart beating against your ear helped you fall asleep.

The return of Hvitserk and Bjorn lifted your family's spirits. Each of you needed some good news. But that didn't stop you from resuming your place on the deck, eyes on the horizon. But this time it was different as someone joined you. Coming up behind you, Bjorn put an animal skin on your shoulders to prevent you from catching a cold and, after a few minutes in complete silence, he finally spoke.

"Torvi explained to me what had happened, what you had seen. And to be honest, it wouldn't seem illegitimate to me if you wanted to go after Lagertha." You turned to him, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you laughing at me? Have you taken a good look at me? Do you really think I have a chance to beat your mother? I can't even kill a rabbit..." you exclaimed after Bjorn frowned in incomprehension. Crouching down in front of you, he placed his hands on your lap.

"Here's what I'm offering you. I will go to England with your brothers to avenge Ragnar and I want you to come with us. You won't fight but I'm sure it will do you good to get away for a while." Without waiting for your response, your older brother got up before leaving after ruffling your hair.

Staying alone for a little while, you then made your way to the Skali. With your eyes fixed on your feet, you collided with a young man with a disfigured face. Without wanting it, your glance remained captivated by the scars which covered his head

You had no idea what you were looking at, and you were riveted by the scars on his head before apologizing both for running into him and for staring at him as if he were an outcast.

He didn't smile much, and after reassuring you that you weren't the first or last to look at him that way, he disappeared into the crowd, not even giving you his name.

Entering the Great Hall, Lagertha was at first surprised to see you before smiling at you.

"Y/N, what brings you here?" Astrid walked up to you and, out of caution, started to want to search you before Lagertha stopped her.

"I want to learn to fight" your voice was so weak and without an ounce of will that the queen asked you to repeat.

"I want to learn how to fight, and you are one of the only people willing to teach me what she knows." Keeping eye contact, Lagertha stood up before approaching you.

"And what do your brothers think?" Frowning, you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Since when do you care what men think? I'm a woman now, I can make my own decisions." Shaking her head, Lagertha agreed to teach you a couple of things, indicating that since you had known her longer and trusted her, Torvi would be your training master.

Your first training took place that afternoon in the woods, hidden from view. None of your brothers knew about it, and you specifically asked Torvi not to reveal anything to Bjørn. No axes, shields, or swords, only your fists to test your abilities and especially your position.

As a teacher, Torvi knew how to be authoritative without being hard on you. It was not easy to learn how to fight and theory was never as difficult as practice. You had never killed anyone, so you needed time to train properly and get it into your head that one day someone would fall under your blows.

Your training had been intense, however, and you had not been spared, and by evening you had crumpled to the ground on your bed without even taking off your clothes. The next day would also be difficult to deal with.

Margrethe. She had always been helpful to you, mainly because you had always known her as a slave. However, when she began to associate with your brothers, your opinion of her changed slightly. Perhaps you were jealous that Ubbe would probably spend more time with her than with you. The organization had been arranged differently and now you had to share your room with Sigurd, which was a blessing in disguise since before going to sleep you could hear him play his instrument. You forced yourself, for Ubbe's sake, to attend his wedding.

The departure of your brothers was fast approaching, so you joined them at the docks. Ubbe, Sigurd, and Hvitserk had given you a questioning look before looking at each other while Bjorn had simply nodded.

"What are you doing here?" Hvitserk finally asked to end the suspense.

"I'm coming with you, Ragnar was my father too. Besides, I am the wisest of you." You retorted with a slight chuckle. To mock you, Ubbe put his elbow on your head before looking at Bjorn who approached you and in his fatherly tone told you that you would have to do whatever he or Ubbe asked of you without ever questioning their words. You nodded, ready to leave for England.

177 notes · View notes

matryosika · 3 years

Text

shoot me, chapter VII

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V chapter VI

word count for this chapter — 5.3 k

warnings — angst, softdom!changbin, female masturbation, dirty talk/suggestive dialogues, piv, unprotected sex, very descriptive but fluffy smut.

note — here it is, finally! this has been probably my favorite chapter so far and i completely loved the smut scene for this (because i am a hopeless romantic). i really hope you enjoy it, and please leave an ask in case you want to leave me a positive message! they really do motivate me a lot to keep on writing.

also, i have a ko-fi, in case you are interested in tipping my writing! it is not obligated, of course, but i would treasure every tip forever!

taglist: @cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen @spilledtee

as soon as the two of you stepped into changbin's apartment the whole energy that had been building up since the wedding event started to unleash itself. just like two teenagers experimenting together for the first time, changbin's hands dragged themselves along the sides of your body hungrily.

"this looks so good on you" changbin panted, the touch of his hands leaving a burning sensation on your skin even though it was still covered with the fabric of the dress.

"mhm?" you hummed, hooking your arms on the back of his neck and feeling how his longing gaze fixed on your lips. "mhm" he replied in the same tone you did, "all of the dresses look good on you, but this one..." changbin sighed with accelerated breath as he took a step back to admire your whole body "you look like a goddess".

a small smile appeared on your face as you felt changbin's embrace, his lips crashing into yours again on a sloppy but passional kiss "worship me then" you jokingly gasped in between kisses.

changbin's face froze a few centimeters away from yours while a smirk appeared in the corners of his lips "i was already planning on doing so".

one of his hands left the edge of your waist and traveled all the way to one of the pockets on his pants, pulling out a red little box. "what is that?" you asked in confusion, your heart skipping a beat or two while your face sank in the crook of his neck, kissing and softly biting his skin.

"my father helped arthur in choosing the wedding rings" changbin explained, making your whole body take a step back from him "so?" you replied.

"i saw something that reminded me of you" he said, offering you the tiny box.

with heavy breathing you accepted the gift, a little bit overwhelmed. a trail of thoughts were unraveling inside your mind: why did he buy something to me? and why is he giving it now in the middle of this? he took it to the event hall since he had it in his pocket, but what could it possibly be?

your fingers managed to remove the adhesive on each sides of the top, almost chuckling at the awkard silence that was formed with only the sounds of panting and heavy breathings filling the whole room.

it was a necklace.

an expensive one, if you dared to say.

"what is this for?" you inquired, holding the fine gold chain that had a medal with the face of an unknown person engraved in it "you saw a charm of a random man and thought of me?" you mocked him.

his fingers danced around the chain you were holding as he took it away from you, his body shortening the distance that was created a few seconds ago "i didn't say the necklace represented you" he mumbled as he hooked the necklace on your neck "think about what it really means".

your confused mind went blank as soon as you felt his lips peppering kisses on top of the chain and in your neck, softly biting and caressing the skin on your chest as he played with the charm. unconciously, your head fell slightly back to give him more access. "i don't get it" you moaned, feeling how his hands danced around your back while they slowly unzipped the dress.

"you will" he replied, his lips tracing your bare skin as you were undressing for him "does that feel good?"

"mhm" you chanted, feeling how the kisses he was leaving along your abdomen and thighs only made you wetter. your hands traveled to his hair, caressing it as your legs threatened to stop working at any second "funny how this is not the first time seeing you kneel in front of me" you joked, letting out a sigh when you felt the tip of his digits tracing the skin of your legs.

"i would be anytime on my knees for you, all you have to do is ask" changbin whispered.

the dress finally landed on your ankles and you stepped out of it to fully remove it, slightly smirking at the wise decision of wearing a fancy set of lingerie for the ocassion because, deep in your mind, you knew that this day was going to end up exactly like this: with you and changbin together.

changbin licked his lips while he admired your body from head to toes, his gaze fixing immediatly in yours. that gaze was exactly the one he had given you the first night you met him, and the first night you slept together. the gaze that, even though he had seen your naked body countless of times, was always present.

you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together at the feeling of your cheeks burning in embarrassment "are you going to stay on your knees watching me all night?" you inquired, still working hard to keep the eye-contact even though your heart was probably going at a million miles per hour. the funniest part was that, even if you two had fucked a 100 times now, this time felt completely different. more concious, if you dared to say.

"this is my way of worshipping you" he said, his lips slightly parted as his hungrily gaze toured every inch of your skin "don't you like being admired?"

"i would prefer other ways of worshipping" you shyly teased in an attempt to relax yourself from the nerve-wrecking emotions you were starting to feel "let's say, a million dollars"

"if i could, i would buy you the entire world just for you to destroy it" he mumbled while caressing your legs and, with that statement, your heart started to feel as if it was sinking in your insides. the man who once represented everything you hated was kneeling in front of you and willing to act as you pleased, yet, that didn't meant anything. that didn't make you feel powerful.

what made you feel powerful was him. owning you.

a couple of seconds in silence passed by as you watched him in awe. he was sure of what he was doing because you couldn't catch a glimpse of hesitation in his eyes. if anything, his gaze was nothing but honest.

his lips lost no time in making contact with the skin of your legs again, leaving a trace of kisses in the opposite direction as before. "if i destroyed the whole world, you would be included there" you sighed, repressing a whine once you felt his teeth and lips softly marking the skin on your hips. "do it" he panted as his hands touched the soft lace beige panties you were wearing, his lips now focusing specially on the exposed skin of your breasts leaving kisses on your chest "i would bear it for you"

his lips crashed into yours once again, this time slower. his taste was intoxicating and, no matter how many times you kissed, you just couldn't get enough of it. his tongue grazed slightly against yours as he parted his lips more to softly bit on your lower lip. "can we take this somewhere else?" you asked in despair, mostly worried about the fact that your legs could give up any second now.

changbin made you feel things you hadn't experience before and, even though it frightened you to a certain extend, it made you curious. "you have been expecting this all night, haven't you?" he smirked against your lips.

"have you?" you replied, tilting your head. if there's one thing that you loved to do was to tease him by answering his questions with more questions. however, changbin couldn't stand that.

"yeah, i did" he muttered, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that fell all the way down the sides of your face "you have no idea all the things that crossed through my mind the moment i saw you standing next to the altar in the church"

you pushed his body slightly "you have such a perverted, unholy mind. can't even hold back in such a sacred place" you joked, feeling changbin's gaze dragging itself all over the features on your face.

"y/n, you are the only holy thing i would get on my knees for".

he had such a way with words, but the ones he was particularly chosing tonight made your heart feel a sincere warmth that you hadn't experience before.

and it was making you nervous.

"just take me before i regret this" you mumbled, your arms once again hooking behind changbin's neck. his body descended slightly and soon you felt his strong hands caressing the back of your thighs, inviting you to climb into his his body "do you regret any of this?" he asked.

your body was pressed against his as he carried you, your legs crossed and resting in his lower back. the way his arms wrapped around your fragile body reminded you how this was actually the first time you felt small.

you had always been the big girl. the big girl who had to deal with her abusive household, the big girl who had to defend her mother from her emotionally unstable father, the big girl who watched her mother go from man to man until she decided to settle, the big girl who was not allowed to ask for anything because life hadn't given her enough.

but as you smelled his scent and felt the warm of his built arms around your waist, the world started to feel big for a used soul like yours. you smiled with half-lidded eyes, your breath getting caught up in your throat.

"no" you whispered, your breathing mixing up with this.

"no?" he repeated, his hands playing with your back "that's it? you are not going to answer my question with another question?"

"no" you replied, shaking your head from side to side. one of his hands left your back to hold one side of your face, stroking slightly the soft skin of your cheeks.

your lips traveled once again to the crook of his neck once he started to walk with you to his room. with each step, your core rubbed against his clothed abdomen and you couldn't help but to let out small whimpers every time your bodies grazed together "so i assume you have been expecting this all night" he teased, his bulge growing every time he heard those sweet sounds escaping your lips.

you didn't reply but, instead, started to bite softly the skin of his neck as you felt his figure descending into the bed. his hands softly traveled to your back, unclenching the top part of your underwear as his digits traced the lace beige fabric on top of it "you wore this for me, right?" he inquired.

you gave him a soft smile "you will never know, changbin". as soon as you finished that sentence, you let out a small gasp when you felt his cold finger rings caressing your nipples as they got hard under his touch.

"i have always loved how sensitive you are" he muttered, pinching and stroking them ever so slightly. compared to other times, you could clearly see that changbin was holding back a lot of the instincts that usually arise from him during sex and, as much as you loved him being rough with you, you were curious as to what you could expect from him tonight.

he licked his lips before making contact with your hardened buds, earning a quiet moan from you as your head fell slightly back "does that feel good, y/n?"

you swallowed and nodded "mhm". the mixture between the feeling of his lips against your body and the sound of his voice pronunciating your name was something that you were definetly going to engrave in your mind forever "look at all the mess you are making in my lap" he muttered, your gaze falling on his black formal pants.

before you could apologize, his fingers traced your slit over your panties. he held his fingers coated with your escence that were glistening due to the light that emanated from the window and, without parting his eyes from yours, he licked your arousal off his digits. as you witnessed the scene, a spark of electricity traveled around your body and into your core.

"you always taste good" he whispered "you have a tight grip on me, do you know that?"

you tilted your head and smirked "is that a secret?" you inquired.

"i wish it wasn't" changbin replied as you felt a pinch in your heart. even though what happened in private with him was something good, it wasn't supposed to be happening at all and both of you knew it.

before any more words could be spilled between the two of you, you leaned in for another kiss. your hands toured his body desperately, helping him get rid of the clothes that were now the biggest obstacle between both of your bodies.

his chest and back were already decorated with a light layer of sweat and that only fed up the friction in between your bodies. the way your nipples rubbed against his chest every time you leaned in for a kiss had you on edge and moving your hips against his bulge, trying to let him know that you couldn't keep up with the foreplay anymore. "you can't wait?" you shook your head, the sound of your accelerated brething revealing what you couldn't put into words.

"turn around" he ordered, lifting up your legs from his lap as he was sitting at the edge of the bed. you got up from your previous seat and caught a glimpse of a big mirror that was strategically placed in front of you.

"you re-decorated your room?" you teased. last week you had been there but that mirror wasn't around.

"i have a lot of ideas, actually" he answered, his head rolled slightly back to see your figure standing in front of him. soon, you felt [and saw through the mirror] both of his hands bringing your body closer to his lap again, only this time you were facing the mirror instead of him. taking advantage of the position you were now in, he kissed the skin on your back as he managed to get you out of the last piece of clothing you were wearing.

"it isn't fair" you whined, looking at the mirror "i am naked and you still have your pants on"

changbin's eyes fixed on your reflection, admiring your body completely as if it was the first time he had seen it "you already made a mess on my lap, it's okay if you keep on doing it" he provoked.

his hands guided you to sit on him again, spreading your legs open in front of the mirror. you didn't really took the time to think this whole thing through but, as soon as you saw your core completely exposed and changbin's facial expressions as his hands toured your whole body, your cheeks turned completely bright red.

"what?" changbin asked, smiling every time you let out small gasps as his digits traced your slit, avoiding that place where you needed him the most "do you feel embarrassed?"

"i feel exposed" you answered back as you let out a faint laugh.

"look at yourself" he demanded against your skin, his eyes admiring your body as his digits made contact with your bundle of nerves that was pulsating with desire "look how beautiful you look for me".

even though your eyes wanted to shut close due to the pleasure and shame, you tried your best to appreciate your body under his hold "i can't believe you are completely mine" he groaned, his digits moving in circular motions against your clit making you moan.

"yours?" you asked in between sighs. changbin's gaze was darker than usual and that only made you clench harder against thin air. he smiled, again showing that cockiness you utterly hated.

without saying a word, he thrusted one of his digits inside you. you whined at the sensation, feeling again the coldness of his rings against your warm core "you want to know how i know that?" he inquired.

you moaned again when you felt the finger tips of his opposite hand brushing against your bud "look at me" he ordered, immediatly making you look for his dark gaze in the reflection of the mirror. after a few seconds, his face held a victorious smirk "your body sells you out every damn time, y/n". you licked your lips at the confusion, only to be interrupted by a loud moan once you felt the pace of his fingers inside you matching the one with his digits against your clit "the way you clench around my fingers only by looking at me betrays you"

"you are still this cocky, changbin?" you asked in between moans, your eyes fixed on the way changbin's figure took care of you.

"you are still lying, y/n?" he replied while leaving faint kisses against your shoulders. "you look so small underneath me, you know that?" all he got from an answer was a soft moan, but he still continued "look at how gorgeous your body looks when it's being touched by me"

your hands rested on your breasts as you twisted and pinched on your hardened nipples, the tension on your lower back increasing as well as the pleasure you were receiving. "you always take me so well, it makes me proud"

a small cry left your lips at his words, knowing that your whole body clenched around his finger tips harder than usual at the praise. he didn't say anything, but the smile that he had on his face revealed that he definetly felt it. "my y/n, there is not a part of you that i don't find pleasing"

his words, combined with his touch, were definetly sending you to cloud 9. by the way your whimpers were starting to sound and your hips desperately grinded against changbin's touch, he knew that you were close. "do you want to be good for me, huh?" he questioned, his eyes admiring the grimaces of pleasure you made.

"mhm" you moaned "please don't stop, changbin".

your head rested completely on his shoulder and, as much as changbin wanted you to look at yourself in the mirror, he noticed that the position was rather perfect to help you chase the orgasm that you dearly longed for. "even when you are like this" he whispered in your ear, the tingle of his hot breath against your skin making you squirm under his arms "too fucked out to even keep your eyes opened and too filthy to even be considered a saint, i think you are the most beautiful"

"changbin" you gasped loudly, your back arching your back as it withdrew from his chest, your juices coating completely his fingertips "that's my good girl" he grunted, feeling how your walls violently clenched around his digits "you are doing so well, y/n"

again, you clenched even harder at his words once you reached the highest point of your orgasm. your eyes were completely shut that you swore you could see a night sky filled with starts, the sensations of pleasure wrapping every single part of your body as the only thing you could think of was changbin.

"thank you" you whispered with broken words and teary eyes due to the overwhelming sensation you just had experience. even though you had cum countless of times with him, this one felt different.

"you took me well" changbin replied, peppering kisses in your cheek as your breathing stabilize itself. this was not his usual self, but you would be lying if you said that you didn't like it.

as soon as you reincorporated on his lap, you saw your reflection in the mirror and a smile appeared across your face. your messy hair, your rosy cheeks decorated with tears and your still trembling body that was being roughly held by changbin's arms was such a sight you would never forget.

"come here" he said, getting you up from his lap as he stood from the bed too. with swift movements, he unbuckled his belt and got rid of the remaining clothes in his body. you couldn't really help but to stare at him, his soft caramel skin and the way his veins stood out in his arms was something that had always drive you insane.

carefully, his hands guided you to rest your back on the soft mattress, feeling a sensation of comfort as soon as you smelled the bed-sheets that had their scent imprinted all over them. "what else are you going to do to praise me?" you joked.

he leaned in to start kissing your chest and breasts while your legs automatically hooking around his waist and resting on his lower back "see how your body reacts to me" he groaned, biting softly your skin without too much strength since pain was not something he wanted to inflict on you today.

with eagerness, you squeezed your legs again around him, his cock making casual contact against your wet core "do you want me?" he asked.

you looked at him with lustful eyes as he rested his body on his forearms, and you couldn't help but smile. "i am here, that should tell you everything you need to know"

changbin's gaze fixed on the necklace he had given you a few minutes before and started peppering kisses against your skin, but he didn't reply anything to that.

one of his hands guided his cock inside you, letting out a groan once he felt your tight warm walls welcoming him "you always makes me feel so good" he panted, melting at the sweet sound of your moans.

his pace was slow and more delicate than usual, but you couldn't deny that you loved it. the way his hips softly slammed into yours while his pubis brushed against your clit with every thrust had you seeing stars "fuck changbin" you cried.

"you are doing good, y/n" he reassured, both of his hands looking out for yours as he placed them on either sides of your head "your pretty body can take my cock so well"

once again, you clenched at his words "you like that, don't you?" he whispered.

"mhm" you hummed "your voice..." a small whimper left your lips when you felt his pace increasing, but the softness of each thrust was still there "i love it when you talk to me like that"

"yeah?" he asked, almost in a chanting manner "do you like it when i tell you how good your body reacts to me, y/n?"

you squeezed your legs together once again, forcing changbin deeper into your tight cunt "fuck, yes".

the way he was holding your hands as he pounded you was something you found oddly intimate, but you liked it. this felt more than a casual session of sex, but you couldn't quite understand what was the thing that made it different tonight.

"changbin" you whimpered.

"yeah, baby?"

"no one has ever made this feel good before" you admitted, melting at his gaze. "god, you feel so good inside me"

"i know, princess" he replied with a heavy groan, leaning further to place a kiss on your forehead "no one can make you feel like i do".

both of your bodies were tired, but the passion and intimacy that was built inside that room was something that you two had never experience before. the way his breathing was getting caught up in his throat and the way your whines and moans were starting to sound louder than before only indicated that the both of you were ready to let go.

and all of the sudden, an unconcious sentence left your lips in the middle of the intimacy

"don't leave me".

changbin's body slightly tensed up at your words and you cursed yourself mentally for saying such a thing out loud. however, his gaze transmitted you some sort of comfort "i'm here, i'm not going anywhere".

his lips approached yours in a kiss, repressing every single pant or moan that you two could possibly emit. the pace on his hips increased too, desperate to make you feel completely good "i am so close changbin"

he let go of one of your hands as his digits found your bundle of nerves again, rubbing it just like before and adjusting the pace of each thrust to make sure you were getting nothing but pleasure. your back arched once again, your chest rising to meet his body.

"you are so precious" he moaned "i can never forget the image of you cuming all over my cock"

again, the knot unraveled at his words. both of your arms hooked around his shoulders and back as you held his body tightly, your finger nails sinking into his skin as he cursed under his breath due to the pain. "please cum inside me" you pleaded in a broken whisper "i need you to fill me up"

those words were the push he needed to let go as well, painting your inner walls white as he held your trembling body tightly "y/n" he moaned, feeling how your hips grinded involuntarily against him in an attempt to get him deeper "you are such a goddess".

a smile appeared into your face as your eyes found his again. "i know, you told me that before"

"i will never get tired of telling you"

after some time and few attempts to catch his breath, changbin got up from his bed and looked for a towel to clean the mess he had made in you. while he did that, you laid down thinking about everything that had happen: everything he said, everything you did, the necklace and the eerie sensations you felt throughout the night.

but since you had promised yourself to let go for the night, you tried to push all those feelings away from your own good.

"do you want to take a bath?" he asked as he dragged the towel along your inner thighs.

"i want to sleep" you admitted.

"with me?" he teased "are you really planning on giving me the honor?"

"don't make me regret it, fuck"

and just with those words, he got into his own bed with you. the warmth of his body was familiar to you, but you had never felt it like this before. your body curled up against his while your face rested on his chest, noticing how it went up and down every once in a while.

"achilles" he mumbled out of nowhere.

"huh?" you asked in confusion, your head separating from his chest so you could look at his eyes.

"think about it"

but you didn't want to think about anything. you just wanted to sleep next to him, feel his body leaning against yours while you felt his embrace throughout the night.

"maybe later" you replied, yawning. your head once again fell into his chest and changbin couldn't help but smile.

even though he was a succesful man at such a young age, this was the very first time he ever felt lucky and fortunate. and even though you slept safe and sound next to him, he spent the whole night thinking about the words that left your lips.

please don't leave me.

the next morning, changbin dropped you at arthur's house with the promise of taking you out for dinner later that day. even when you refused twice, changbin ended up convincing you. you wanted to go, but the rational part of your brain kept trying to contradict you.

you stepped into the house wearing the same clothes as yesterday, only now you were wearing a new accessory gifted by no other than seo changbin. achilles, you thought as you closed the front door.

you were exhausted from last night and, at this point, all you wanted to do was to run upstairs and into your bed. as you walked through the hall, a small smile escaped from your lips by recalling the events of the previous night.

"y/n" a voice interrupted, making you turn around in your heels.

"you got married yesterday" you mumbled, looking at the figure of arthur standing outside of his studio-office-whatever the fuck that room was. "aren't you supposed to be at your honey moon by now?"

"care to explain this?" he inquired, completely ignoring you or what you said. as he held his cellphone in front of you, your body turned into ice and your knees felt extremely weak.

"what are you doing with that?" you asked, defensive. as he swiped through his gallery, things got worse and worse.

"better yet, what are you doing with him?" he replied "i can finally see what your mother taught you"

"this isn't about her so don't even dare to bring up her name" you snapped back "how did you get those pictures?"

"changbin, really?" he frowned his eyebrows, "i really thought he would be interested in... any other kind of woman"

"what i do or not do is none of your business" you muttered, looking directly at the series of pictures that captured the moment you and changbin left the event hall, kissing and fooling with each other.

"he is a smart man, y/n" arthur intervened "if he hasn't realized that you are no good for him by now, he will". tears started to prick into the corners of your eyes, but you would be damned if you let him see you in a vulnerable state "do you love him?" he asked with a tint of smugness in his words.

you didn't reply.

"even if you just appreciate him as a...." he looked at you and then at the cellphone, in dispair "friend, i would reccomend you to be the bigger person here and just stay away from him"

"this isn't your call to make, arthur" you groaned "stop trying to control everyone else's lives just because you couldn't control mine or hyejin's.

"i am not sure if you are aware, y/n" he said, walking around you and into the hall "but the wealth of changbin's family depends on me". you crossed your arms, still trying to think about anything that would stop you from crying in front of your father "do you really want him to throw all the effort he has made throughout his life just for a whim of yours?"

you bit your lower lip.

"i am going to be in europe for two weeks" he added as he signaled a bunch of suitcases that were by the door "i want you out of korea by then, since you only came here for the wedding". he approached you with careful steps as his rough fingers held the necklace changbin had given you the night before "i want you out of his life too, for good. he has a commitment with me and the company, and i don't want you intervening in that"

he looked at the charm and then at you as you stood there completely frozen "i truly hope you had enjoy your time here in korea" he added with a bright, cynical smile as he walked to the suitcases.

it wasn't until you heard the front door going off that you started sobbing uncontrollably in the living room floor.

you had ruined everything, and you had ruined it big time.

what started as a game to get back at your own father ended up being an emotional set up for you, and you were not sure how to fix it.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst #changbin smut #changbin x reader #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz x reader #skz imagined #skz one shots

149 notes · View notes

flowerwrites06 · 4 years

Text

break my mind’s eye V — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 9k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

The new routine of embedding her older brother into their lives again became somewhat casual in a fortnight. Though the presence of their ‘guest’ now created a significant rift between the new couple especially when it came to certain less than elegant activities. Not that they did not try of course.

One week into the modified living condition, Jungkook and Belle had been chatting at the bar which now mysteriously had an abnormally good stock of fruit juice compared to actual alcohol. A few instances where the drug lord would pull out a glass of cloudy apple juice creating some suspicious looks from his clients. Apparently Master Jeon was now going on a cleanse from alcohol for a while to prolong his rule over the empire.

The innocent conversation turned to absentminded touches, fingers intertwining and standing dangerously close together so Jungkook could smell her coconut shampoo. One peck turned to a deeper kiss and completely by mistake, Belle jumped on the counter with her now slightly favourite crime lord between her legs, his rough hand sneaking underneath her skirt and his lips nibbling on her neck.

Of course this was the perfect time for Taehyung to decide for a walk finding a criminal fooling around with his little sister while she giggled.

Belle practically flew off the counter almost twisting Jungkooks’ hand and simply put, the two decided to keep it more on the down low next time.

Another week passed and the cartel had been going through some brewing tension with the authorities after a new mayor was elected. Which meant Jungkook barely showed up in the bedroom to sleep and when he did come to the bedroom, it was to work more at the study table.

Belle on the other hand now sat in the designing level of Madame Saito with her large glasses, a red sweater dress to match the confusing mixture of cool and warm. Long hair tied up in a loose bun that lobbed to the side a little when she lowered her head to focus on the little details of the blue hydrangea pattern across white silk.

She approved Seokjins’ offer of becoming his designer for the Sangria House so they could conjoin the Spring Line with the angels’ attire. As much as it ignited a tiny hint of suspicion on the owners’ intentions, Saito advised that it was a powerful business decision. Being a designer of one of the biggest establishments in the city could boost her reputation as a sole businesswoman. Instead of just being Jeon Jungkooks’ fiancée or Saitos’ protégé.

Most of the Spring Line designs were already displayed on mannequins behind her, few of them approved for the runway while others still needed more detailing.

Her thumb already pricked a few times but she grew a good resistance for it at this point carefully creating gradients on the embroidered flowers. Belle quickly learned the importance of clothes in the Sangria House. Even though it was kind of ironic considering the type of establishment.

Angels wearing white fabric were meant to be the ones still in ‘training’, red meant available for entertainment both casual or carnal, lavender represented angels who were trained in more daring acts for entertainment especially ones that were erotic. Then there were the gold angels; extremely qualified in all kinds of entertainment but were already ‘taken’. They were married to someone but still had to entertain customers for a living income. If a customer wanted to spend more intimate time with this angel, it would take the price of a mansion which only one or two clients have ever really paid.

After hearing all this, Belle felt a little silly just calling it a brothel considering how much detail went into orchestrating the whole system down to their clothes.

“Belle!”

Her hand immediately stilled staring up at the figure in a vibrant yellow pantsuit walking towards the working table.

Saitos’ eyes flickered down to the sewing pattern, a smile creeping on her red lips. “I thought you said you weren’t good at embroidery.”

The younger female chuckled nervously poking the needle into the fabric. “Not as good as how you do it.”

“I was forced to sew since I was seven.” She laughed. “Don’t let my younger self being oppressed by toxic femininity stop you from believing you can’t do it now.” She joked, patting her shoulder lightly with her gaze focused on the pattern. “All you need to do is just cut out little loose threads.” Finger gently pointed towards the little threads poking out of the design. “Always make sure it’s smooth. Sometimes when a few parts are imperfect, you can add little extra pieces over top that match the shade of the embroidery design.”

Belle nodded, eyes following wherever Saitos’ finger moved.

Then the senior designer stopped herself. “Oh! Mrs. Jeon is waiting downstairs, she has some news about your engagement.” She straightened up, fixing her blazer before gesturing over to the stairs.

Her words took a moment to sink into her mind before she pulled the hair band out of her bun and tried to make it look presentable again. Glasses placed carefully on the table while the work in progress now supervised by Saito.

Almost rushing down the stairs, Belle came face to face with the woman who wore a body hugging lavender midi skirt and a matching blazer. A smile quickly stretched across her red lips as Boyoung held onto her hands excitedly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you during work but I got too excited.” She giggled, holding up her left hand to admire the ring wrapped around it as if she had never seen it before. “It’s about the wedding.”

Heart raced against her ribcages but Belle tried to keep her expressions calm. “What—what about the wedding?”

“The date, of course!” Boyoung laughed, swinging their arms again. “See we have been saving for Jungkooks’ wedding since his nineteenth birthday. Twenty one is the traditional age to marry in our family.”

Explained the constant suitors Jungkook had to tolerate. Something Belle could relate to. Her parents had been talking about her marriage since she was thirteen because it was a good way for them to gain money. Or to get rid of her. Either way she found herself having one big thing in common with the man. “That’s very nice of you.” Nice was not the proper word Belle wanted to use but Boyoung had proved to the nicest person she met in this new world. She was not going to ruin that safety.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Since we have more than enough money saved up for the event. I wanted to tell you that we could have the wedding in a month.”

Blood chilled in her whole body struggling to keep her smile up to such a point where it was just her lips curled up while her eyes widened a little. “A month?” She chuckled nervously.

“I know it seems a little quick…” Boyoung admitted while lowering her head for a split second.

Quick was one way to describe a thousand crates dropping right on top of you while you were just working on a pretty dress.

“But it’s good to keep up with tradition.” She nodded mostly to herself, quickly giving her a bright smile like she forced it out of her after a mental pep talk. “And you two already love for each other so it shouldn’t be too hard to fathom.”

Love.

That fucking word again. Everything just came crashing back to her as the ring felt like it was suffocating her finger until it fell off. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real… those three words swirled around in her mind as she watched the joyful smile adorn Jungkooks’ aunt. It was a game…a deal to protect her family and her own life.

Strange how the two were thinking about the same thing but one had a grey cloud and the other had sunshine.

“Of course.” Belle smiled again a little weakly but the older females’ excitement seemed to mask any suspicion. Admittedly, sparks of interest did fly between the fresh new pair but truthfully it never moved deeper than a sexual attraction. They stopped being rude to each other and grew quite successful in pretending to be a happy engaged couple. Behind closed doors, there were smiles, maybe a little flutter in her belly whenever she saw him but—love?

No.

Love was sacrificing her entire chance at a proper relationship with a happy marriage and children so she could protect Taehyung. What Belle and Jungkook had was not love itself but a consequence of loving someone far too much to lose them.

With that thought, her pounding heart hardened. This was all for the best. The deal is simple. Marry Jungkook and be the perfect wife while Taehyung is given all the resources to recover back to a better version of himself again. What was the point of worrying so much about marriage anyway? Her career showed so much potential, Belle probably would have ended up a single business woman like Saito.

To put it more accurately, this deal was perfect. No one pressured her about marriage, Taehyung was healing and her career moved smoothly.

“So we’ll do it at my mansion then, yes?”

Boyoungs’ voice breaking into the barrier of her thoughts pulled Belle back into reality and she instinctively gave the older another grin. “Yes…your mansion is beautiful, Mrs. Jeon.” She nodded. “It’s the—perfect place for a wedding.” Perfection seemed to be all she could gain at this point.

“You’ve made a desperate aunt very happy.” She joked, patting her cheek. “Now I’ve kept you away from work long enough, we’ll talk soon.”

Belle led the woman across the boutique to the exit where her car awaited, allowing the cool air to ease some of her slightly heated anxiety.

She stood politely in front of the vehicle watching Boyoung climb inside before the driver closed it gently. Though her attention flickered over to something moving on the other side of the street where the park was. Usually filled with children running around, people jogging but her focus directed more towards the bushes fencing the area.

For a quick moment a more sensible side assumed it may have been an animal of some sort merely rustling between the branches.

Though the side that was fully aware of the new gaze on her after the engagement knew better. Animals did not wear black coats neither did they hold cameras pointing right in her direction while trying to look inconspicuous in nature.

At some point Belle suspected the photographer saw her looking into the camera because she saw the figure rush to keep themselves hidden again.

Sighing, the girl gave one quick smile to Boyoung before the car drove away and she tried to fix her attention on her work again.

Coffee stained papers flipped and dropped either on the other side of the crowded table or on the floor. Phone rung at some corner constantly while not a single employee had a minute without running around somewhere leaving Namjoon s’ head spinning. On his right were a pile of cases he should be doing according to the captain who insisted that vandals and petty theft was more his specialty. Granted the man could not blame her considering his biggest undercover case went downhill with no leads whatsoever leaving him to be the runt of his precinct for the past year.

He kept a decent aura of respect however, no one really wanted to piss off someone who had been personally trained to cut off important parts in a body.

Taking a sip of his possible fifth cup of coffee, his pile of useless cases forgotten on the side while he stared at the recent pictures sent to him. A few years had already passed with this growing ambition towards finding out how to expose the mystery that was the Jeon Cartel. Apparently each associate took some kind of tight fucking oath which prevented anyone from uttering a single secret about them.

The infamous Jeon Jungkook was a master of words. The golden elite of their city. Contributed to around half of the buildings in the city and factories overseas. Donated near millions of dollars to medical and disaster care.

Namjoon had to admit he was good at what he did. That is until the first drug scandal. One of the factories that Jungkook owned was caught manufacturing cocaine and distributing it to Osaka and Hong Kong. Though quickly swept under the rug when the man had two hospitals built under the guise that it was Jungkooks’ personal apology to the city. His undercover mission which he worked on for months destroyed in two days.

Now the man was left with looking at any recent changes. Anything that so much as leaned the slightest towards suspicion caused his ears to prick up and his eyes peeled.

“You know Pornhub exists, right?” Yoongi spoke in his usual gruff tone, sipping on his espresso while watching over Namjoon s’ shoulder at the pictures he was looking at.

The younger male rolled his eyes continuing to observe the photos taken three days ago. A woman wearing a striking red dress conversing and smiling with the second most powerful lady in the city. “It’s Kim Belle.” Namjoon remembered the name on the newspaper article in front of him. “Seems Jeon Jungkook is getting engaged.” He sighed, brows furrowing slightly.

“Okay…” He nodded walking over to his desk right in front of Namjoon s’ desk. “And that’s our problem because…”

“Well it doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s marriage, it almost never makes sense.” Yoongi leaned back on his chair.

Namjoon moved in to try and keep his voice down since anyone who so much as heard him talk about Jungkook started writing out complaints to the captain. “But why now? He’s been an eligible bachelor for years and all of a sudden, an engagement?”

The older male tried to suppress rolling his eyes. “Probably an arranged marriage then.” He shrugged.

“To a fashion designer?” He winced. “What the hell is he going to gain by marrying a fashion designer?”

“Free suits for a life time?” Yoongi smirked but immediately sighed seeing the warning look on Namjoon s’ face. The man had clearly dedicated his entire livelihood to exposing Jungkook which was something he could never understand. He spent most of his days going undercover and being damn good at it too, exposing all kinds of rings. The Jeon Cartel, on the other hand was a hard ice wall to crack. “Look…you’ve been at this for a long time. At this point if you so much as mention Jungkook, the captains’ just going to let you go on the grounds of insanity.”

“But something isn’t right.” Namjoon emphasized desperately wanting anyone to see under that perfect young man façade Jungkook harbored. “You don’t just get engaged to some random girl, that’s social suicide.”

“Social suicide? This isn’t fucking high school.”

“You know what I mean.”

The two men stayed silent letting the ambient noise plunge through their personal atmosphere.

Yoongi mulled over his thoughts for a moment, watching Namjoon look down at the pictures with a defeated sigh. He understood the passion behind exposing someone who was doing a harmful thing under the guise of righteousness. So many powerful heads still needed to be exposed, unfortunately Jungkook was only a newer one. “Let me see the file.” He curled his fingers in and took the thick file onto his own desk when Namjoon handed it to him.

His gaze fixated on the picture of the woman, who looked around about Jungkooks’ age except with a softness to her as opposed to the other mans’ mischief. There were a couple of news articles that Namjoon collected with that same face plastered all over. A couple of them were positive while others were out to scandalize one way or another no matter how stupid it sounded. “So you’ve never seen her with him before?”

Namjoon shook his head. “Not until a little too recently. It’s like she just appeared out of thin air.”

Flipping through the photos, Yoongi came across one where she wore a brown-ish bodycon dress walking into an establishment. “This is a rehabilitation clinic.” His brows furrowed, interest now piqued a little too much for his own liking.

“You think she’s an addict?”

“Hard to tell. Could be anything.” He muttered, eyes on the picture as he took a sip of his now cooled down espresso. “Maybe she’s visiting.”

“There has to be something weird about this, right?” Namjoon gestured towards the file.

Crime lords taking in beautiful, young wives for no reason was not an uncommon trait but usually those leaders would have a reputation of that sort. Jungkook had been a bachelor from what they knew and rarely found himself in any kind of sex or romantic scandal. Something was going on but much like everything else with this man, it was hard to tell what exactly. “Okay don’t tell anyone I said this.” Yoongi almost whispered now leaning in. “But we have a possible drug bust…thanks to our new mayor, we’ve been getting orders left and right to fish out dens.” He stopped himself for a moment letting a trainee walk past them before speaking again. “The one we’re looking at tonight—few of us suspect that it could belong to Jeon.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat as his heart leaped right up to his throat. Finally those words were coming out of someone else’s mouth instead him saying the same thing like a broken record. More people were seeing the truth. “Where is it?”

Yoongi gave him a warning look now. “Joon…”

“Come on, I’m not gonna follow you.”

“Yeah but this is still a secret bust, alright? Even some of the seniors don’t know about it.” His eyes flickered over to the sides where the older officers were sipping coffee at their desks looking at their computer. About two of them actually reading cases while others watching porn. “The mayor wants a full clean-up.” Yoongi whispered again. “And I mean—full.”

“Meaning…” He pointed to his desk but referred to the whole precinct and Yoongi nodded.

“All our jobs are on the line.” He muttered. “Even the captain…but—this could help us be on the mayor’s good side since they’re trusting us already.”

A light hint of excitement tingled down his spine knowing there was a lead now. While Namjoon would have wanted to accompany the team, the older male had the right idea. The captain did not trust him in this mission. He needed to be subtle if he was ever going to feel the satisfaction of seeing Jeon Jungkook behind bars.

Golden rays peeked through the curtains as Belle walked to the vanity with nothing but a crème silk slip and a white robe over top.

The couple along with Taehyung were invited to the Sangria House to celebrate their new business partnership. Apparently the best angels would be readied for their entertainment in the night. Something Belle was not sure she was going to enjoy.

Either way it was always good to look as presentable as possible. The dress code stated that white, red, lavender or gold were not allowed in the establishment for obvious reasons Belle understood now. So with the thought in mind she opted for a deep green velvet dress, a slit for one of her thighs to peek through and one loose strap sleeve that hung off her shoulder smoothly.

The gorgeous dress lay neatly on the large ottoman in the center of the walk-in wardrobe while the woman curled a few undone pieces of her hair.

Deep peach lips and a simple terracotta shaded eye look, Belle briskly made her way downstairs to see how Taehyung was doing with getting ready.

Her older brother had been extremely reluctant in coming to the event but she suggested it would be good to do something other than sitting around. Maybe getting his mind off of any messiness even for a few hours. Still hesitant he silently agreed but Belle had a nagging feeling he was still napping.

Down the stairs as her curls bounced a little in the process, Nana smiled and rushed over to her.

“He’s fine, mistress.” She quickly reassured as they both stopped near the entrance archway.

Belle let out light sigh before chuckling, head lowered for a moment. “Is the suit okay?”

“Very handsome.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “You should be dressed too.”

The younger female hummed before hearing a few voices back and forth as if in argument. Brows furrowed, Belle walked to the other side of the mansion where the second living room was while Nana continued on with her work.

The area was empty but she still heard angered voices coming from the left room. The second living room led two areas. It had a similar design to the first one except instead of a bar, there was another fireplace. Past the couches in the center led to an open archway towards the kitchen on the right while the left was closed; Jungkooks’ home office.

Curiosity and slight concern seeping through her entire body, Belle walked towards the door which in mere minutes opened harshly. A clear air of smoke flowed out into the second living room touching her nostrils and making her wince.

The once angry looking men immediately stopped in their tracks for a moment before waving off the smoke and bowing. “Excuse us, mistress.” One of the older ones acknowledged as they took turns walking past her to the exit. Jongho and another guard led them properly to the door but the womans’ gaze was more on the figure sitting at the chair, rubbing his face.

Entering the office, she closed the door behind her.

His slightly reddened eyes flickered to meet her gaze before lowering his head. “Belle—” Jungkook sniffled, fingers running through messy hair. White shirt a little crumpled, almost half unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It became a usual sight for the man ever since this new election. “Sorry…I don’t usually yell.” He sighed attempting to messily fix up the papers.

Staying silent, feet padded closer to the table and gently took the paperwork in her hands, stacking them neatly with a tap on the edge before placing them back on the surface. “I know. You haven’t slept.”

“Park Chul clearly isn’t planning on sleeping.” Jungkook almost seethed just mentioning the mayors’ name.

Belle moved to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders lightly squeezed the knotted muscles. “That doesn’t mean you stop taking care of yourself.”

He let out a drawling hum, throwing his head back. “You can take care of me.” A soft smile tugged at his lips as her vanilla scented perfume graced his nostrils. For hours Jungkook had been forced to tolerate the tobacco, weed and alcohol, it felt nice to have someone pleasant around him again.

“What if I’m not here?” Another million dollar question that silenced them both for a few minutes. Even the woman grew uncomfortable at how heavy those words were. Their deal was perfect. But what about twenty years from now? Fifty years? What if Jungkook being married didn’t matter anymore?

“You’ll always be here…won’t you?” He stared up at her.

Belle stopped massaging him at this point, mind crowding with unwanted thoughts and unanswered questions. Too much to think about in such little time. “I made a promise.” She smiled. “I’m gonna keep it.” Seemed the best reply in the pile of things she truly wanted to say to him except there was no time to worry themselves over delicate details.

Jungkook chuckled a little under his breath as the vanilla scented goddess now moved to sit on the table in front of him. “Shouldn’t you be dressed by now?”

“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Jeon.” Her eyes flickered up and down his body.

Fingers accidentally pushed her robe aside to let those soft thighs peek out in display, the feeling of it under his pads allowed for a sense of relief to wash any stress down. All she had to do was sit here and Jungkook felt instantly revived. Even the scent of alcohol and tobacco faded away with her presence bringing him nothing but light bliss. “I like this outfit.” He smirked, hand tracing down her leg so it sat on the arm rest, slightly caging him in much to his pleasure.

Belle smiled placing her other leg on the left arm rest giving him a small peek of her satin black panties. “Do you want me to wear this outfit?” She purposely softened her voice.

The sweet sound tingled down his spine, head turning to kiss the inside of her thigh.

Eyes closed feeling each kiss lurking closer to the thin barrier hiding the womans’ core. Leaning back a little, she buried her fingers gently in his thick hair. Grip tightened when Jungkooks’ lips finally pressed against her panties. “We don’t have time for that.” She spoke breathlessly.

“We’ll make time.” His voice rasped.

She felt her panties being pushed to the side, exposing her core to his hot breath before his tongue licked a stripe up from her slit to her little nub. Legs jerked a little almost locking her thighs together but one of his hands kept one of them still. Tongue lapped on her throbbing clit making it hard to keep herself steady without knocking over the desktop computer behind her; light moans melted out of her like a long unsung melody. A little hesitant but she had to sing it regardless. “Dai—”

Her voice made his heart flutter immediately concealed with a light groan that vibrated against her core. Lips wrapped around the sweet bundle of sensitivity and suckled, relishing in the feeling her plump thighs pressing against his ears.

Belle almost lost her balance as she pushed the keyboard away to the side. The familiar warmth constricted around her lower belly now welcomed itself, moans fading into desperate whimpers to reach her orgasm.

Feeling her hips jerk against his mouth, Jungkook breathed out through his nose not leaving a single break as he pushed her to her release. Clit throbbing between his lips, he shook his head.

The rough pressure torturing her bud as she drowned in the warm explosion seeping through every vein, body trembled in bliss. When Belle felt his tongue still moving causing her to jump a little from the sensivity as she pushed his face away softly. “No more.” She giggled, still trying to catch her breath.

Jungkook kissed it once more with a cheeky smile before standing up.

She wiped off the glisten on his chin with the fabric of her robe and pressed a light kiss on his lips. “What about you?” Her hands pulling at his belt but he held onto them.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, giving her a reassuring smile. “I just needed a little treat.”

Belle slapped his chest softly not able to get rid of the blissful smile gracing her features. “We should get dressed now.” She muttered even though their hands were still slowly caressing each other.

“We should.” Jungkook pushed away the loose curl over her eye.

Whether it was the ecstasy still flowing through her or a genuine feeling from within, the woman found herself in complete comfort under his touch. Maybe something more than just sexual attraction. Not that it could ever be anyway, there was no real use in true feelings for something false. Despite the thought in mind Belle smiled up at her clever captor turned fiancée and felt tingles run down her spine at a mere kiss on her cheek.

Sangria House reeked of luxury from its royal purple and gold tapestries, crystal lamps with warm lighting, scent of wine mixed into vanilla while the inside adorned with colorful angels entertaining their patrons. Since the house colors were not allowed to be worn by visitors, many of them opted for the classic black which made Belles’ deep green velvet dress stand out a lot more than she expected.

Arm hooked onto Jungkooks’ while Taehyung walked with them on her left, the three were welcomed by an angel with white attire. She bowed, smile gracing her features before leading them past the main lobby of entertainment where a few angels in white played instruments on the small stage.

Upon observing, a lot of the members in the lobby only wore white while some red ones sat in a few corners.

Belle assumed the higher ranking ones would have more private sessions or maybe there were certain times where each angel arrived. So many things still left unanswered for the workings of the Sangria House but it did not change the fact, it was a quick profit hungry establishment exploiting vulnerable young people who were desperate for a living.

The young angel slid open a door to an empty private room. Table full of light snacks and three cushions for them to sit on. “Mistress Angel and Master Jimin will see you shortly.” She bowed again until her knees touched the floor waiting for them to enter the room so she could leave respectfully.

Jungkook sat in the middle while Belle and Taehyung took each side waiting patiently in a small period of silence.

“Was bringing me to a brothel really necessary?” He glared more at Jungkook even though Belle was the one who received the invitation and accepted it for the business deal.

“If it were the brothel, I would’ve been groped at least a good three times by now.” The woman replied simply knowing this establishment in particular had extremely strict rules and a different crowd of clients.

The comment silenced her brother almost instantly.

Mere minutes passed and the door slid open again bursting with bright colors. A woman with long brown hair wearing a gold georgette dress with a matching overcoat giving her the look of royalty. In a similar fashion, a grey haired male stood beside her wearing a similar design except silk lavender. Walking closer to the table, they both bowed down to their patrons adorning those award winning smiles.

Taehyung felt like something clipped his tongue when saw the angels. The ones in white were pretty but this house owner had some real gems hidden under his sleeve. Especially the lady in gold who perched herself next to him, smiling like a princess from a fairytale that the man seemed rude smile a little back.

“Welcome to the Sangria House. On behalf of Mr. Kim, we’d like to thank you for accepting this momentous partnership, Madame Belle.” She smiled at her and gave a little bow of acknowledgement. “Jimin and I will be your hosts for this evening.”

Jungkook smiled kindly and the chatting began quite smoothly since the angels were extremely talented in holding an air of entertainment. Especially these ones. Getting a lavender and a gold coated angel were not regular feats and only done if the patron was an important one to impress. The last time he saw two of these angels together in one room was when he was first anointed leader of the Cartel but it was all paid by his father and mother. Belle checked that box without any aid. He would be jealous but a jolt of pride burst through him without knowing.

“Your name is Angel?” Taehyung asked, expression softened so much he could resemble a cloud.

Angel giggled under her breath while serving his tea. “It’s a little strange.” She placed the teapot down glancing over at Jimin who was chatting along with Belle while Jungkook listened to her. “We were called faeries before but—Mr. Kim changed it after I was given the gold coat.” She gestured to her outfit.

Taehyungs’ brows furrowed looking down at her dress hoping the princess would explain why the change in her outfit was so important. Instead the criminal sitting in the middle began speaking.

“When an angel is given the gold coat, it signifies that she’s take—” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Apologies…she’s married.”

The princess nodded with a reassuring smile.

“Married.” Taehyung breathed out, feeling like a grey cloud engulfed him into a cold hug. Of all the things…of all the angels he had to melt in front of the one who was married.

Belles’ smile disappeared hearing Jungkooks’ correction. The smallest tiniest detail managed to snap a nerve that had been long hidden with her own pride and stubborn strength. He was wrong. Angel was taken. No real, true spouse would continue to let their wife be used as a sensual commodity for extra cash and this gold angel definitely brought in a lot from what she learnt. No real, true husband would manipulate someone and threaten her family just to keep up a good appearance as a married elite. This was far from being married. Marriage was something else entirely and these suited pigs would not ever understand the meaning. It was a business transaction. Her body deflated a little feeling that nudge of anxiety once again bubbling up but she quickly gave Jimin a kind smile.

Jimin knew fake smiles from a mile away but it did not take an expert to realize Mr. Jeons’ comment changed something in the gorgeous designer. Though he had to admit, she was good at holding one like she had been giving conveniently fake smiles for a while. He did not know if he should be impressed or terrified. Either way it seemed the perfect to initiate the next stage of the evening that Seokjin planned out for them. He gently touched Angels’ arm to give her the signal before speaking once everything was quiet. “Mr. Kim has private sessions booked for each of you. I will be taking Madame Belle to another room and Mr. Jeon is expected in a meeting with Mr. Kim.”

It might have sounded like Jungkook was forced to work while relaxing but he never really delved into the antics of the Sangria House. When he was a bit younger and curious, he did book a red angel occasionally but now nothing really compared to what he already had. Though something he did not like was Jimin offering his hand to Belle. “You don’t have to do that.” He muttered to the woman.

“It’s okay.” Belle spoke a little coldly, accepting Jimins’ hand as they walked out of the room.

Another angel wearing white walked into the room to escort Jungkook to wherever he needed to go but Taehyung did not really care where. All he could focus on was the fact he could now be alone with the gold princess. “Can I ask who you’re…married to?”

Angel smiled. “No one really asks. They like keeping my truth as far away from the confines of this room to make their evening more enjoyable.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?”

“Then you’d be the first.” She took a polite sip of her tea. “Is there something in particular you wanted me to do?”

“No!” Taehyung cleared his throat, cheeks heating up. “Uh—no, I—Talking is fine. I haven’t…spoken to anyone new in a long time.” He chuckled mostly to himself. Most of the friends he had left him in the dust the more he found his comfort in other things. He talked to Hoseok a lot but only when a transaction was involved, the nurses were anything but just highly paid nannies and Belle had a life of her own to lead. Sitting in this room now with the soft-spoken princess, he quickly felt how lonely he truly was.

“Am I doing a good job?” She giggled seeing the little sags under his eyes that resembled she saw in the mirror this morning.

He nodded without hesitation. Her mere presence seemed to bring a warmth in his belly, reassuring him that he was not lonely. That everything was okay even just for a moment.

The room Belle was escorted into had a similar structure to the previous one except instead of plain walls, there were cherry blossom designs giving the area a subtle pinkish hue. She walked inside and sat down on the cushion this time sitting in the middle while Jimin perched himself on the other side so they faced each other. “So…why the private session?”

Jimins’ eyes flickered up to the female while he served the tea before smiling. “Mr. Kim wanted each of you to fully enjoy the services we can provide.”

Her heart bounced a little at his words. “Ser—Services?” She breathed out a small chuckle. “What kind of services?”

The lavender adorned male could not help but giggle at her adorable reaction. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything unless you ask me to.”

“What if you don’t want to do what I ask?” Belle tilted her head. Not on her life would she ask Jimin or anyone to do anything disgusting for her own benefit but she was curious just how put together this establishment actually was.

He smiled. “It is my job to make you happy, Madame Belle.”

Clearly not that put together. “It would make me happy if you just called me Belle. ‘Madame’ is only used for senior designers.”

Jimin bowed. “Apologies—Belle. I looked at the designs you sent in for the House…you could be a senior designer if you wanted.”

Belle giggled lightly trying not to look too proud of herself since as Jimin said, it was his job to make her happy. “Thank you. Let me know if you want me to change anything.”

“That’s not really my decision but I think it’s perfect just the way it is.” He shrugged. A small moment of comfortable silence passed through them before Jimin spoke again with a careful thought. “Forgive me for asking, Belle…but–I saw you were very upset hearing Mr. Jeons’ comment.” Every word sounded so carefully calculated Belle wished she could speak like that in front of strangers. “Part of the responsibilities in Sangria House is to detect signs of…domestic disturbances. Our patrons tend be loose tongued which helps us find out if there is anyone who needs help getting away from something like that.”

“Oh—” She tried her best to hide how much her heart almost cracked her ribcages when it leaped in both fear and a strange excitement. “You don’t have to worry about all that.” Belle shook her head with a smile. Though a small lump still grew in her throat at how Jimin spoke his concerns despite barely knowing her. “Sangria House tracks domestic disturbances?”

Jimin nodded, smile softly adorning his ethereal features. “Most of our angels are from toxic environments.” He took a breath to say something as he glanced behind him. Then he leaned in with a smaller voice. “Angel…the golden lady used to be the mistress of a powerful club owner. I—I was the one who found the signs after a private session.”

Belle swallowed down the painful lump. “Who did she marry then?”

He sighed. “Since the man was so influential, he wouldn’t just let anyone marry her.” Jimin shook his head. “So—Mr. Kim offered his hand. Well…Angel trained five times as intense compared to the other angels so her status as a gold member would be valid.”

What little hope Belle had of the Sangria House being somewhere of help quickly dwindled down back to her original opinion. Angel moved from one controlling person to another. Maybe Seokjin was not an abuser of any sort but it did not change the fact she became a commodity just so she could be free from abuse. A ‘better’ life but did that make it a good life?

Though Jimin looked quite convinced that this was a righteous path for the House.

He could not exactly be miserable about it like she was since he had to actually live through all these routines and schemes.

Same way Belle couldn’t be upset about her deal with Jungkook otherwise it could make her insane with misery. Every time the small hint of reality hit her, she felt like her whole body was drowning in it all. Something so wrong damaged the entire structure of her future. If soulmates existed Belles’ would be left waiting or they would run to someone else they were not truly meant for.

“I’m sorry…I was supposed to entertain you, not make you feel awful.” Jimin chuckled nervously, shifting in his seat.

“No, no—” She shook her head smiling at him more genuinely this time. Her hand unintentionally slid closer to his as a way to comfort the angel. “Please, I—like talking about these things sometimes. It feels—real.” Her genuine smile faded into something a little sad but it still rang with truth. “I need a lot of real in my life right now.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgement, one of his fingers lightly tapping against her hand. “Well if you ever want to visit again this House will always be open to you.”

Regardless of what she thought about this place, that was the first time anyone ever gave her words of comfort since the ‘engagement’. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“We’ve been in casual dealings for a long time now, Mr. Jeon.” Seokjin walked towards his desk after bringing out a wooden box from his shelf and placing it on the dark wooden surface. The lighting in the office had been a lot more dim with rarely any heavy decorations save for a few plants. This place clearly was only meant for business. “But I feel this new project may be able to solidify a stronger partnership between the two of our entities.” He tapped the closed box.

Jungkook sat on the chair in front of the desk, eyes fixated on the box before flickering up to the older male. “We don’t—share the same supplies, I’m afraid, Mr. Kim.” He shook his head a smirk lightly playing on his lips.

Seokjin chuckled settling down on the chair. He flicked the gold latches on the box and pushed the lid open before sliding it towards the young lord. “I believe you do share a similar interest for this kind of product.”

Giving the house owner a look of apprehension, he slowly leaned in and peeked into the box where he saw an indigo shaded stick almost resembling a cinnamon stick. On the left was a small bag of the same colored powder and then a liquid version in a vial. “What is this supposed to be?”

“There isn’t a name for it yet.” He shrugged. “But from I’ve asked a few of my white coats to try this product out and see the effects.”

Jungkook picked up the liquified version to examine it closer, little pink glitters seemed to shine through in the light making it look like some potion from the ancient times. “And? What were the results?”

“At first the usual, loss of inhibition maybe a little sense—then…we have increased sex drive, high performance and concentration ability, pain relief and for some people, a serious case of the giggles.” Seokjin rested his elbows on the table with his fingers intertwined with one another.

“Side effects?” He met the older males’ gaze, placing the vial back in the box.

“Didn’t think you were kind of man to worry about that.” He smirked.

“I didn’t get this kind of success by selling bad drugs, Seokjin.” Jungkook smiled with a slight bitter hint.

Seokjin sighed before nodding. “Of course—unfortunately, this drug is new and not exactly made by creators of your Cartels’ stature. Side effects included heavy addiction, loss of coordination, extreme mood swings, excessive coughing with blood traces, insomnia, sensitivity to light and cold and nightmares.”

“So nothing then?” He joked, raising a brow. “It’s going to take work to ensure at least lessening those side effects by half.”

“I take it that’s a yes on the partnership.” The corner of his lip twitched up a little.

Many club owners usually turned to him and his manufacturers for new and improved drugs that surpassed the traditional ones. Though in Jungkooks’ opinion, the originals always sold the most because they were effective for years. Except brothel or teahouse owners never really dabbled into the interest of his line of work. “Why the interest in this new field?”

Seokjin smiled leaning back on his chair. “I’m a businessman, Jungkook. There’s no field I don’t want to get into. It has been an interest of mine for years since many herbs and substances have yet to be discovered. Don’t you ever wonder if there was something out there in the world that could bring you more profit…more glory than your predecessor?”

Jungkook sat silent as the question lingered in the air for a few moments. Being so young and handed the cartel without his fathers’ death caused a disagreement amongst many associates. Despite the fear harbored by whoever crossed his path, the young man was always on the path to better himself in proving that he was the most capable and most influential. There was no room to be soft or complacent in this business.

“Also the lack of knowledge for this product may prevent any…mishaps from our new beloved mayor.”

Those clever words made his ears prick up quicker than he liked. A substance with similar effects to the originals but the look of none of them. If they succeed in perfecting it then maybe it would make being discreet that much easier. “I’ll talk about it with my manufacturers.” He spoke trying to be as emotionless as possible. But the prospect of his vulnerable mess of a cartel getting some security was soothing.

The sessions and a productive meeting flowed through deep into the dark night until the three were escorted back to their car.

Belle kept her eyes out on the window feeling a light emptiness gut after an angel walked into the room and told their session came to an end. Perhaps it was Jimins’ immense talent in luring his patrons. Whatever it was she had no interest in talking to the men in the car. She felt like her whole being was ripped apart, now she needed a few moments of deep silence to stitch herself back up.

Truthfully the girl did not say anything too detailed to the lavender angel but she never needed to. Somehow he had the talent of seeing her story with a few hints. That alone made her even more reluctant to uttering a single word to her brother or her makeshift fiancée.

Jungkook peeked from the rearview mirror at the woman looking out the window wondering what happened in the private session. Even as they met again in the lobby, Belle had a cold sheet over her to a point where he could feel the chill.

When they arrived to the mansion, Taehyung shyly suggested that they should visit the house more often which Belle agreed to with a slightly exhausted smile.

“You looked beautiful tonight.” Jungkook commented watching Belle take off her earrings and necklace, placing them in a black box.

“Thank you.” She replied under her breath, unpinning some parts of her hair relieving the light headache that ensued. Stop acting miserable, Belle told herself. It would only make it worse—her chest could not clench all her life. Her gaze still focused on the vanity, she pushed all her curls over her shoulder. “Could you unzip me?” Belle asked coyly. The woman had all capabilities of unzipping her own dress.

Shrugging the soft shirt off his shoulders, Jungkook padded towards the beauty and stood behind her. Eyes flickered to her reflection in the mirror watching her glow in the golden lights of the vanity. Hands carefully held onto the zip and pulled down tantalizing slow, wanting to stand this close to her as long as possible. The scent of her perfume blessed his nostrils, he had to lean down and nudge his nose against her hair.

Belle couldn’t help but close her eyes, chest rising and falling. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Why did something fake feel so good then? His slightly rough fingers sneaking through the slit of her unzipped dress tracing up her back making her shiver a little. She shrugged off the one sleeve keeping her clothing hanging, nipples now peeking out from the green velvet.

Jungkook kept his gaze on the reflection as his hand reached out to push down the fabric so her gorgeous breasts could be full display. Fingers brushed up her chest before wrapping around her neck and turning her head up, lips devouring hers. Tongue pushed through her teeth not wasting any time exploring every corner of her mouth.

She sneaked through the slit of her dress and rolled her panties down to her thighs. Sneaking her hand behind her, Belle palmed the tightening bulge in his pants feeling him groan into her mouth which only made her moan back. Nothing fake should ever feel this good.

Losing all his sense and patience, he pulled her dress to see her beautiful ass in bare display as she bent over slightly on the table. Jungkook unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down watching Belle cheekily sway that gorgeous peach. No one should be this irresistible. One little tiny move from the woman had his head floating in the clouds. Nails dug into her skin, fingers wrapping around his cock before teasing her slit.

As much as Belle loved his tongue, feeling his hardened tip had her body tingling for more. Heated arousal leaked out of her awaiting core while she pressed her ass against his member silently asking to hurry.

“Did Jimin see this?” He slapped his cock against one ass cheek making the woman hum.

She shook her head looking at him through the mirror. “Only you.” Voice came in a whisper that leaked of a little desperation.

“Only me.” Jungkook muttered, giving her an almost borderline sinister smirk. Hands grabbed at her hips as he stuffed his cock into her pussy without a single warning.

Belle lightly groaned under her breath, nails scratching against the surface of the table. Her wet core swallowed his entire member with a light ache but it quickly faded into a warm filling that she craved for too long.

“Say it again.” He demanded.

She glanced over her shoulder for a second trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Only you.” A harsh thrust from behind had Belle’s body trembling in the best way possible.

“Again.” His voice grew breathless, each thrust snapping with rough need.

“Only you.” Belle moaned out feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot. Arms around her body, chest pressing against her back making his shaft hit deeper and slower pushing through his deprived orgasm. “Only—” She gasped when she felt her sensitive spot get tortured, her legs momentarily losing balance from the sensation.

“Fuck, baby—” He cursed in a breathy mumble, face buried in her hair as his orgasm raced closer.

“Master Jeon!” A yell echoed upstairs but Jungkook merely groaned at the horrible timing.

Pushing Belle down further, he rammed into her like an animal. All the makeup and skincare products stumbled and fell over the shaking table.

“Master Jeon!”

Each time the yell echoed, his thrusts grew more vicious. Her skin burned from the friction against the table surface while her limbs lost all ability to have any control of their own. Belle still could not control the small smile on her face. The feeling of her body completely submitting to the beast fucking her from behind brought a new rush of adrenaline.

Jungkook grabbed onto a chunk of her hair relishing in her little moans being drowned out by the impact against the contents of the table.

Loud knocking on their bedroom door interrupted their heated air for a second.

“Baby, don’t stop please…” Belle whimpered feeling her release reach tipping point.

That nickname again made his thrusts sloppy as the warm heaviness in his lower belly reached its uncontrollable, quickly pulling out of her. Juice spluttered all over her ass and back making her look like a sinful piece of art.

Her legs felt like pure jelly as the jolt of overwhelming pleasure clouded every other thought ever constructed in her mind. When she almost stumbled, Jungkook held her gently.

“Master Jeon! It’s an emergency!”

Jungkook groaned under her breath.

“It’s okay, go.” She whispered patting his arm.

Reluctantly letting go of the beauty and zipping himself back up, he stomped towards the door and almost pulled it off its hinges. Much to his increased frustration one of his sweaty associates stood on the other side of the door. “What could possibly be so important that you had to disturb my private time?” He glanced back at the walk-in wardrobe to see Belle completely getting rid of her clothing.

“S-sir the—” He stammered giving Jungkook the urge to strangle him right there and then.

“Speak or I cut your throat.”

“The den, sir.” He shivered. “One of our dens...police did a raid, we lost of our twenty percent supplies…sir.”

Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male feeling the deep warm bliss now cut through by his harsh reality. They actually fucking did it. Ever since that scandal, not a single soul in the police force dared to take them down but now suddenly someone decided to play hero in front of this new mayor. “You’re the one who supposed to keep the den under guard.”

The male gulped down hard. “I—I had to get out of there.”

“You should’ve died with it.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry…” God he fucking hated that word. What did it ever solve? Jungkook nodded, rubbing the back of his neck walking over to the study table. Pulling out his gun he pointed it at the mans’ left leg and took a shot. Then another on his right leg.

He limped down screaming in agony while the drug lord merely stared him down in disgust.

“Jungkook!” Belle called out, heart jumping to her throat at the sound of gunshots. Her body now adorned a thick robe which she hugged close to herself. He looked back over his shoulder to meet her gaze, eyes reddened once again with anger and maybe a hint of distress. “Don’t…”

His entire body wanted to melt into hers for the rest of the night. Maybe it would make him forget all his problems for a while but he couldn’t. The mayor worked day and night trying to get one step ahead of him and now they were. Jungkook couldn’t let this happen. He had to send a message. A damn good one. “Go to sleep, okay? Close your ears if you have to.” He whispered.

Belle took a breath to say something but nothing came out so she sucked in her bottom lip, watching him close the door so all she could do was hear it all. The man screamed, sounds something crashing and choking. Feet backed away until her body plopped down sitting on the edge of the bed. This was his job, she knew that. But it all went back to what Jungkook was truly capable of. Why taking his deals were so important. Every sound reminded Belle of how it could be Taehyung going through the same fate. Maybe one day when the drug-lord grew tired of the same face, she would be on her knees allowing him to seal her fate just as he took control of it.

So she took his advice and pressed her hands against her ears tightly hoping to block the reality she was trying so hard to suppress.

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >>

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

295 notes · View notes