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03jyh23 · 2 months

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✋🏻⌇touch part one┆choi san

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

non-idol!san x fem!reader

│synopsis: you and san had always been the best of friends, but a single kiss changed everything.

│genre: friends to lovers, smut with a plot

│trigger warnings: strong language, emotional manipulation, infidelity (not between san and the reader), alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content (consensual and unprotected sex, thick san, handjob, mentions of cum, sofa sex)

│words: 6.3 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there my lovely people! another part of goes to waste is here! i hope you guys will like it! touch is not as heavy as the previous parts of this series, so i decided to post it now, feeling that perhaps you guys need a break from the heavy angst. as always i hope you guys will enjoy reading!

love, monika ♡

│taglist: @skittyneos │@kyeos4ng │ @vcutparis │@hoeforalbedo

As soon as your San picked up his phone, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, even though your heart was heavy. "Can you come pick me up from Juyeon's?" you asked, your voice coming out weakly as you wiped your nose. It had been a rough night, and the sound of San's breathing on the other end of the line provided a small comfort.

"What happened this time?" San asked, his tone a mix of concern and weariness. It wasn't the first time you'd called him crying, and you could sense the worry in his voice. You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain the mess you found yourself in, yet again.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you began to speak, your voice trembling. "It's just... everything's a mess, San. I can't do this anymore. I need to get out of here."

You could hear him sigh on the other end, the sound of keys jingling as he likely grabbed them to head out the door. "Hang tight, Y/N. I'll be there soon," he reassured you, his voice steady and comforting. You nodded, even though he couldn't see you, feeling a small glimmer of hope knowing that San was on his way. You wiped away another tear, grateful that at least one person in your life could be counted on to be there when you needed them the most.

You were waiting for San at the park in front of your boyfriend's house. The evening was cold and windy, and you were only wearing a short dress. The thin fabric did little to protect you from the biting chill, and you hugged yourself tightly, trying to preserve what little warmth you had. Minutes felt like hours as you anxiously glanced around, hoping to see San's car. Each gust of wind seemed to penetrate deeper, making you shiver uncontrollably. Fifteen minutes, which felt like forever, passed before you finally saw the familiar headlights of San's car pulling up to the curb. Relief washed over you as you quickly made your way to the passenger seat, slipping inside with a sigh.

San smiled weakly at you; his brows furrowed in worry. He immediately noticed your discomfort and reached into the back seat, pulling out one of his big hoodies and a pair of sneakers. "Here you go," he said softly, handing them to you.

You looked at him, surprised. "Shoes?"

"Y/N, I knew you were wearing those damn heels again, and I wasn't wrong," he replied, his tone a mix of concern and gentle admonishment. "Your feet must be tired, so just put the socks on, shoes on, and don't yammer."

His words were firm but caring, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. You took the hoodie and sneakers, slipping the warm, oversized garment over your head. It smelled like San—comforting and familiar. As you put on the socks and sneakers, you felt a warmth spreading from your feet, a stark contrast to the cold you had been enduring.

San watched you closely, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and relief. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how much his simple act of kindness meant to you. Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time they were tears of gratitude. "Thank you, San," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"McDonald’s?" San asked while gently massaging your thighs, trying to warm you up a bit. The warmth of his hands was comforting, and it helped to ease the tension that had been building up inside you all evening.

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips at the thought. "Yeah, that sounds good," you replied, your voice soft but grateful. "I could use something to eat."

"Alright, let's get you something to eat and then we can talk about everything, okay?" he said, and you nodded softly, your head resting over the cold window. San started the car, the engine's hum providing a comforting background noise as he drove toward the nearest McDonald's.

As you sat there, wrapped in his hoodie, and feeling the warmth from the car's heater, you could not help but feel a sense of gratitude for San. The night had been rough but knowing that he was by your side made it a little easier to bear.

When you arrived at McDonald's, San ordered your favorite meal deal without even needing to ask. He knew you so well, and that simple gesture brought a tear to your eye. As you sat in the car, eating, you felt a sense of normalcy return, even if just for a little while.

"Thanks," you said again, your voice filled with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

San smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand gently. "You'll never have to find out," he replied softly. "I'm always here for you, no matter what."

You watched the road, finding comfort in the passing city lights and watching the clouds on the horizon. The rhythmic motion of the car and the changing scenery outside the window provided a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. The radio was playing softly in the background, filling the car with a gentle melody. San was humming along to one of the songs, his voice low and melodic. It was a sound that felt like home, wrapping around you. As the car sped along the street, you glanced over at your best friend. His hands were steady on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The soft glow of the dashboard lights cast a gentle light on his face, highlighting his strong jawline and the curve of his lips.

"Yours or mine?" San asked, pulling you out of your thoughts, as he got closer to the crossroad, his eyes briefly flicking from the road to meet yours. You didn’t even hesitate. The thought of going back to your place felt daunting, when going to San's place meant warmth and familiarity.

"Yours," you replied after a brief pause, "And let's grab a bottle of wine on our way?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

San chuckled softly, nodding. "Sounds like a plan," he agreed, his voice warm and reassuring.

A few minutes went by till San finally parked in front of his apartment complex. He turned off the engine, left the car and quickly jogged to open your door for you. As he reached for the handle, you could see the concern etched on his face. He offered his hand, helping you hop off his car with a gentle smile. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the chilly night. You smiled at him and nodded your head, grateful for his presence and the comfort he provided.

In comforting silence, you both made your way to the off license nearby. San led the way through the narrow alleys, his eyes scanning the shelves before settling on a bottle of wine. He picked it up and turned to you with a questioning look, and you nodded in approval.

"Make it two?" you suggested shyly

San's eyes widened in surprise, clearly taken aback by your request. "Was it that bad?" he asked, concern lacing his words as he reached for another bottle.

You nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of the night's events pressing down on you. "You don't want to know," you replied, your voice tinged with exhaustion and a hint of sadness. San paused for a moment, studying your face. The seriousness in your eyes made him reach out for a third bottle without hesitation. The sight of him grabbing the extra bottle brought a small, grateful chuckle to your lips.

"Three bottles it is," he said, trying to lighten the mood. His attempt at humor was a small gesture, but it made you feel a little better, knowing that he was willing to go the extra mile to make you feel comfortable. San paid for the wine, and as you both left the store, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for him. With the bottles of wine in tow, you headed back to his apartment.

San let you inside, his apartment instantly enveloping you in its warmth. "You can shower first," he suggested softly, putting the wine bottles in the fridge, "I'll leave you some clothes on the bed. How does that sound?"

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief. "That sounds perfect," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. San's caring nature was exactly what you needed at that moment.

"After the last time you stayed, I decided to get a few things for you," San began, his voice soft and caring. He went to his bedroom gesturing for you to follow him, you leaned against the door frame to watch him as he rummaged through his wardrobe. "I bought a toothbrush for you and some fancy shower gel that I thought you might like. I also picked up a few types of shampoo and conditioners since I wasn't sure which one you prefer." He paused for a moment, turning to look at you with a gentle smile. "If you need tampons, they're in the cabinet under the sink," he added, his tone thoughtful. "But I think you don't need them yet?" You nodded as you laughed softly at the way San looked at you knowingly, one of his eyebrows furrowed playfully. As he continued to search for a towel, his hands moved deftly through the organized shelves. San's attention to detail and his thoughtful gestures made you feel incredibly cared for. It was clear that he had gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable and at home. After a few moments, he finally found a soft, fluffy towel and handed it to you with a reassuring smile. "Here you go," he said, his voice warm and comforting. "Take your time in the shower. I'll be here if you need anything." You looked into his eyes and couldn't help but start crying. The way he cared for you, how softly he spoke to you—it was overwhelming. Tears streamed down your face as you realized just how much his kindness and understanding meant to you. At that moment, all the emotions you had been holding back came rushing to the surface. You felt a mixture of gratitude, relief, and sorrow. Gratitude for his unwavering support, relief that you didn't have to face everything alone, and sorrow for the situation that had brought you to this point.

San's eyes softened as he noticed your tears, and he gently took you in his arms. His touch was warm and reassuring, anchoring you to the present. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice like a soothing balm. "Let it all out." His words gave you the permission you needed to release the pent-up emotions. You sobbed quietly, leaning into his comforting presence. San didn't rush you or try to stop your tears; he simply held your hand, offering silent support.

As the minutes passed, your sobs began to subside, replaced by a sense of catharsis. You looked up at San, your eyes red and puffy, but filled with gratitude. "Thank you," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

San smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours, he tugged your hair behind your ear "I'm always here for you, no matter what." With a final, comforting squeeze, San released you and nodded towards the bathroom. "Go take that shower," he said gently. "I'll be here when you're done." You nodded, taking the towel and heading towards the bathroom, feeling a little lighter after you let your emotions out. "I will leave some clothes for you on my bed, so you don't have to worry about anything else."

As you closed the bathroom door behind you, you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night slowly begin to lift. You took a long, hot shower, letting the warm water wash away the grime and stress of the day. After what felt like an eternity, you finally stepped out, wrapping yourself in the soft towel San had given you. You made your way to the bedroom, feeling a sense of calm. On the bed, you found one of San's hoodies, just as he had promised, and a pair of boxers. You picked them up in confusion, "Sannie, the boxers?" you shouted in the direction of the living room, where San was preparing his sofa with blankets and cushions.

"New ones! I swear I never put them on!" San shouted back, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. You couldn't help but smile at his response, feeling a sense of normalcy returning. With a sigh of relief, you put on what San prepared. Wrapping the hoodie tighter around you, you made your way to the living room, where San was waiting with a comforting smile and a spread of snacks, ready to offer you whatever you needed. He offered you a glass of wine, gesturing for you to sit down on the sofa beside him. The warmth of the room and the soft glow of the lights created a cozy atmosphere.

"Do you want to talk? Or are we just drinking wine?" San asked softly as you sat down next to you on the sofa. You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of emotions. Without saying a word, you hugged his arm tightly, needing to feel him closer. San understood your need for comfort and didn't press for an answer. Instead, he gently rested his head against yours, as you both sipped your wine in the comforting silence.

"So, I was waiting for Juyeon in front of the restaurant, and he didn't show up for an hour. I stood there, feeling more and more frustrated. He didn’t pick up his phone, didn’t answer the texts I sent." You paused, taking a sip of your wine to steady your emotions. San nodded; his eyes filled with concern as he listened intently. "I decided to walk to his place, as I didn't want to spend money on Uber. It was a long walk, but a girl got to save up money." You let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. San's grip on his wine glass tightened, and you could see the anger building in his eyes on your behalf. "When I finally got there, his roommate opened the door and told me he had gone out with the boys earlier this afternoon and he wasn't back yet." Your voice cracked slightly, and you took another sip of wine to mask the hurt. San's jaw clenched, and you could feel how his muscles tightened. You took a deep breath as you tightened your grip on your wine glass. "I couldn't believe it. He had completely forgotten about our plans and didn't even bother to let me know. I felt so humiliated and angry." You took another sip of wine, your anger now mixed with a deep sense of hurt. "I waited outside his apartament, hoping he would be back but after another hour of waiting I finally gave up and called you. I didn't know what else to do. I just needed to get away from there."

"Son of a bitch," San seethed, his voice dripping with anger as he downed his glass in one swift motion. He refilled it at once, the sound of the wine pouring into the glass punctuating the tense silence. His jaw was clenched tightly, and you could see the muscles in his neck tense as he tried to hold his frustration. "I can't believe he would treat you like this. You deserve so much better, Y/N." San's eyes met yours, filled with a fierce determination. "I swear, if I ever see him..." He took another long sip of his wine, his anger still clear but tempered by his concern for you. "You don't have to put up with this. Not now, not ever." San looked at you with a mixture of anger and tenderness. "You deserve all the best, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You deserve someone who will never forget about you, someone who will always be there for you. You deserve to be loved fully and completely, without any doubts or second thoughts. You deserve someone who sees you for the incredible person you are and cherishes every moment with you."

San’s words hit you deeply, resonating with the part of you that had been yearning for this kind of affirmation. You felt a surge of emotions, a mix of gratitude, relief, and something deeper that you hadn't fully acknowledged until now. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, a gentle exploration of feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface. But it quickly deepened as you both poured all your emotions into it, the unspoken words, the shared history, and the undeniable connection. San's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. His touch was tender, and it made your heart ache with a mix of longing and hope.

When you finally pulled away, you looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. Instead, you found a reflection of your own emotions—intense, raw, and real. Your voice trembled as you whispered, "It's wrong..."

San rested his forehead against yours. "But it feels so right," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "I've always been here for you, Y/N, and I always will be." His words made your heart flutter, and you knew in that moment that something had shifted between you two.

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words and the comfort of his presence. In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the hurt, the betrayal, the uncertainty. All that mattered was the connection you felt with San. He cupped your cheeks, pulling you in closer and kissing you deeply. You melted into him, losing yourself in the warmth and intensity of the moment. His tongue explored your mouth, each movement sending shivers down your spine. The kiss became increasingly passionate, messy, and urgent, as if all the emotions you had been holding back were finally being released. You felt a desperate need for him, a longing that grew stronger with each passing second. His hands roamed down to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. San's touch was electrifying, the intensity of the kiss left you breathless, but you didn't want it to end. San's hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly and guiding you onto his lap. As your hands tangled in his hair, you both knew that this was a turning point.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

"I know," San replied, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race and your mind whirl with a thousand unspoken words and unexpressed fears.

You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths mingling, creating a shared rhythm of panting. "This is crazy," you whispered, your voice trembling with the gravity of the moment. "But I can't stop."

San's eyes bore into yours, filled with the same mix of emotions that swirled within you—fear, desire, confusion, and an undeniable pull toward each other. "Maybe we don't need to," he replied, his voice low and husky. "As long as you want this?" San asked, his voice filled with a mixture of hope, vulnerability, and an almost desperate yearning for affirmation.

"I do," you whispered, your voice steady, "I want this. I want you, San."

Without another word, San captured your lips once more, the kiss deepening with each passing second. San's lips moved from your mouth to your neck, trailing a path of soft kisses and gentle nips that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you even closer as if he couldn't bear to have any space between you. San's hands found the hem of your hoodie, and he slowly began to lift it, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending electric tingles through your body. You raised your arms to help him, and he quickly discarded the hoodie, leaving you bare for him to see. He took in sight of you, and he leaned into place a tender kiss on your collarbone.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours. He helped you pull it over his head, revealing his toned chest and stomach muscles. You ran your hands over them, feeling the heat and strength beneath your fingertips. You leaned in to press a kiss to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. "I can't believe you hid all of this behind these useless clothes," you said, your hands roaming over his muscles. "You're so fucking hot."

San's breath hitched at your words, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I was waiting for the right moment to show you." His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You felt a surge of excitement at his words, your heart pounding in your chest. Your fingers traced the contours of his chest, "Well, I'm glad you finally did," you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Because you look fucking incredible." You couldn't get enough of him, the feel of his body against yours, the taste of his lips, the heat of his touch. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and you never wanted it to end. You reached for the waistband of his pants, your fingers trembling with anticipation. San's hands covered yours, helping you undo the button and zipper, and he quickly kicked off his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. The sight of him so vulnerable and exposed filled you with a sense of awe and desire.

San's hands slid down your sides, finding the waistband of his boxers that you’ve been wearing, and he gently tugged them down. You reached out to him, your fingers brushing against his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and concern. "We don't have to do anything you don’t want to."

"Boxers off, San," you whisper into his ear, your voice trembling. San's breath hitched at your words; his eyes full of lust as he looked deeply into yours. He reaches down, his hands brushing against your skin as he slowly slides his boxers off, revealing himself to you completely. San was big and thick, and so fucking pretty. His cock stood proudly, the veins running along its length making it look even more mouth-watering. He was for sure the thickest you've ever seen, the head flushed a deep, enticing shade of red, glistening with precum. You couldn't help but bite your lip at the sight, your own arousal intensifying. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, your hands wandering over his chest and down to his length. San let out a low groan as your fingers wrapped around him, the sound sending a thrill through your body. You began to stroke him slowly, he arched his back, his breath quivering, as your touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body. You could feel him getting harder in your palm, his eyes fluttered shut. Your hand moved with a steady rhythm, eliciting more sounds of pleasure from him. San's hands gripped the edge of the sofa, his knuckles turning white as he tried to steady himself. His breathing grew heavier, each exhalation laden with raw desire. He opened his eyes to look at you, his gaze filled with a mixture of lust and adoration. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice strained, "You have no idea what you do to me." You felt a surge of confidence at his words, leaning in closer, you pressed a series of soft kisses along his jawline, trailing down to his neck. As you continued to stroke him, you could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his body responding to every movement.

"I want to make you feel good," you murmured against his skin, your breath hot and teasing. San's response was a low whimper, his hands moving to your hips. The intensity between you was almost overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

As your hand continued its steady rhythm, San's breathing grew more ragged, "Y/N," he moaned, his voice thick with need, "I need you." The raw honesty in his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that this was a moment you would never forget.

You looked into his eyes, your own filled with the same need and longing. "Then take me," you whispered, your voice steady and sure. San's eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and desire, and without another word, he pulled you into a searing kiss, his hands moving with a newfound urgency. You put your hand gently around his base. Then, you lifted yourself from him and guided his length into you, taking him inch by inch slowly. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as you felt him fill you completely. Your breaths mingled in the quiet room, San's hands gripped your hips, steadying you. As you took him deeper, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, the feeling of him stretching you, filling you, was intense. San's eyes never left yours, he held you close, his hands moving gently over your skin, soothing and igniting you all at once. You moved slowly at first, savoring each moment, each sensation. The way he fit perfectly inside you, the way your bodies seemed to meld together, felt like the culmination of something long-awaited and deeply needed. San's hands wandered up your back, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. You began to move more confidently, finding a rhythm that made both of you gasp in pleasure. In no time, San's hips began to meet yours, thrusting into you. It was quick, his thrusts relentless and brutal as he fucked into you. San's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove deeper and harder into you.

"Sa-San, fuc-" Your words were cut off by a sharp gasp as San's thrusts became more intense. The pleasure was overwhelming, you clung to him tightly, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body responded to his every touch. San's arm held you tight as he, in one swift motion, laid you down on the couch. He was towering above you now, the new angle of his dick hitting deep inside you made your eyes roll back. You could feel every inch of him, the intensity of the sensation making you clench around his length. Your hands found their way to his back, fingers digging into his skin. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his movements. The rhythm of his thrusts grew more urgent, each one hitting deeper, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, needing to feel every part of him.

"San," you gasped, your voice trembling with need, "Ngh-n-not enough…" San shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you, his movements becoming even more intense. The sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out in pleasure, your body arching beneath him. He reached down between you to rub at your clit, the bundle of nerves growing more sensitive. The sensation sent ripples of pleasure through your body, intensifying with each movement. San's thrusts grew more urgent, each one hitting deeper, causing you to cry out in ecstasy.

"San, I—I'm close," you gasped, your muscles tightened, and a wave of pure pleasure washed over you. You cried out his name as you came, your body trembling beneath him. As you rode out your climax, San's movements became even more frantic. His thrusts grew erratic, and you could feel him throbbing, on the edge of his own release.

"N-need to cum...," San whimpered, his breath ragged. "Whe-where?"

Your breath hitched, your mind racing despite the haze of pleasure. "Inside," you moaned, your voice trembling from overstimulation. San's eyes widened in surprise, but the raw desire in them only intensified. With a final, guttural moan, San buried himself deep inside you, bottoming out, his body tensing. You felt the warmth of his cum fill you, his breath hot and heavy against your skin, both of you trembling in the aftermath. San gently pulled out his softening length out of you, and he collapsed on top of you, his head on your chest. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the intensity of the moment lingering between you. Your hand found its way to his hair, brushing through sweaty strands gently as you both were catching your breath. You started to giggle, and San looked up at you, surprised.

"What's so funny?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, trying to stifle your laughter. "Nothing, it's just... Can you believe we just had sex?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of disbelief and joy.

San chuckled softly, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Yeah, it's pretty unbelievable," he admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. "But you felt good, right?"

You nodded, a contented smile spreading across your face. "More than good. It felt perfect," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

San's eyes sparkled with happiness as he leaned in to kiss you gently. "I'm glad," he murmured against your lips. "We should get cleaned up and rest."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace and contentment. "Yeah, let's do that," you agreed, wrapping your arms around him for one last embrace before getting up. As you both headed to the bathroom, your fingers intertwined, you couldn't help but smile.

You were woken up by your phone buzzing on the night table, San's arm loosely wrapped around your waist. The soft light of the day filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You glanced at the phone, squinting at the bright screen, and saw multiple notifications flashing; messages, and missed calls, all from Juyeon.

"Shit," you cursed under your breath as you managed to extricate yourself from San's hold. Carefully untangling yourself from his embrace, you sat up on the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb him. Your heart sank as the reality of the situation began to set in. In the soft morning light, you glanced back at San, who was still peacefully asleep, his face calm and content. The contrast between the warmth of his presence and the turmoil you felt inside was stark. Taking a deep breath, you stood up and quietly made your way to the bathroom, as you splashed water on your face, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—confusion, guilt, but also a strange sense of clarity. You wiped your face with a towel and noticed that Juyeon was calling once again. You picked up, your heart pounding in your chest. "Hello?" you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N, where are you?" Juyeon's voice was harsh, filled with anger. "I've been trying to reach you all night!"

"Juyeon, I..." you began, your voice trembling. "I waited for you for hours. You didn't show up, and you didn't even bother to call or text." You felt a mix of anger and sadness welling up inside you. "I stood there, feeling humiliated. And then I walked all the way to your place, only to find out you were out with your friends."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Juyeon's voice came through, slightly softer this time, "You know how things get with the guys sometimes. Are you really going to be a bitch about it?"

Your blood boiled at his dismissive tone. "A bitch about it?" you retorted, your voice rising with anger. "I deserved better than being stood up and ignored!"

"It's your fault for not reminding me about the date! I would have shown up if you had reminded me!" Juyeon exclaimed, his voice defensive and accusatory.

"Are you serious, Juyeon? It's not my job to remind you of our plans. You should care enough to remember them yourself." Your voice shook with a mix of anger and hurt.

"Y/N, come on. You know how things get sometimes. I just lost track of time," he replied, his tone softer but still dismissive. "I'm going to come pick you up now, okay?" he continued, his voice trying to sound soothing but not masking the underlying tension. "I'll buy you breakfast, and we can order your favourite coffee. How does that sound? I'll make it up to you, princess."

"Fine, come pick me up from San’s" you replied, your voice steady but resigned. As you hung up the phone, you felt a knot of guilt tightening in your stomach. You headed back to the bedroom; you sat down on the bed and San stirred slightly as you gently shook him awake.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you with a sleepy smile. "Morning," he mumbled, his voice groggy but warm.

You forced a smile, your heart heavy with the weight of what you had to say. "Juyeon is coming to pick me up," you said softly, your voice tinged with regret. San's expression shifted, concern replacing the warmth in his eyes.

"What do you mean he's coming?" San furrowed his brows, his voice filled with confusion and concern.

You sighed, "He called, and he's coming to pick me up," you explained, your voice tinged with regret.

San's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he processed your words. "You're really going to see him after what he did?" he asked, his voice low and filled with barely held anger.

You looked away, feeling the weight of his disappointment. "He's my boyfriend, San. I need to talk to him," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

San sat up, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you. "Your boyfriend?" he repeated, his tone dripping with bitterness. "After everything that happened, you're just going to go back to him? What about last night? What about us?"

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "I... last night, I just needed to get my head off of things," you stammered, your words messy and filled with confusion. "I didn't know what I was doing, I just... I needed to escape, even if just for a moment."

San's expression hardened, the disappointment in his eyes cutting deep. "So, I was just an escape for you?" he asked, his voice a mixture of hurt and anger.

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "No, it's not like that. You mean so much to me."

San clenched his fists, taking a deep breath as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "Then what's it like?" San scoffed, his voice filled with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's complicated. I care about you, I really do. But Juyeon... he's been a part of my life for so long. I can't just walk away."

San's eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture remained. "And what about us? What about what we shared last night?" he asked, his voice quieter but still filled with emotion.

You reached out to touch his hand, your fingers trembling. "Last night was real, San. Every moment of it."

San closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I need to know where we stand, Y/N. Are you just going to forget about what happened between us?"

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. "I could never forget. But I need to figure out my feelings, and I need to talk to Juyeon. Please understand."

San looked down, the pain in his eyes clear. "I understand," he said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. "Just... don't forget that I'm here for you, no matter what."

You nodded, your heart aching. "Thank you. I promise I'll figure this out."

You gathered your things, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. As you moved around the room, San watched you silently, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. You could feel his gaze on you, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet it. When you were finally ready, you turned to him, your heart heavy with regret.

"I'll be in touch," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

San nodded; his expression unreadable. You gave him a small, sad smile before turning and walking out the door, the sound of it closing behind you echoing in the room. You made your way outside, the cool morning air greeted you, a stark contrast to the warmth you had left behind. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions, and waited for Juyeon to arrive.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

♡│requests are open │

#san x reader #san x y/n #san x you #san angst #san fluff #san smut #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #san fic #san fanfic #goes to waste the series #choi san smut #atz smut

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newtabfics · 11 months

Text

"Claim me."

feral xiao x fem!reader spicy fic. triggers for xiao basically being in heat and needing to just fuck his friend.

Note: Trying something new with formatting for my fics to make them look more appealing to the eye. Lemme know how you feel about this.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

There is something to be said about the mighty power of the Yaksha. They were nearly gods of power, for all that any mortal cared.

For the half-Adeptus, Y/N, the Yaksha was an Adeptus she greatly cared for. And he was currently staring her down with his pupils near pinpoints as he gripped the rail behind her back.

She had come to check on him, worried for her dear friend. Earlier in the day, he'd been acting more twitchy than usual. The battle with the hilichurl was nothing strange.

Y/N scolded herself for clumsily catching the swinging club in the gut and getting sent to the ground. Xiao of course quickly eliminated the threat.

But he'd let out something of a pained grunt when he approached, brought to his knees. When she reached for him, he had crawled over her, staring at her hungrily.

She'd never seen him like that before. He looked almost like he was on the edge of losing his mind. He stayed still, forcing himself to breathe slowly. "Don't follow me," He had ordered before vanishing.

Y/N never listens. It's the one thing that worried the Yaksha about her. She never listened to warnings of danger from him. Their bonds were too great to be severed now.

"I told you." His voice was low and desperate.

There was something unhinged about him as he loomed over her on the balcony of Wangshu Inn. Something about the way he stared at her, trapping her between his body and the rail. His muscles were strained, taught, and ready to snap into battle.

He was fighting everything in him not to attack her. To not make her sob his name and claim what his body rightfully desires.

"Why don't you ever listen?" He questioned.

She gulped. "I couldn't just leave you be after vanishing like that. Talk to me–"

"Don't touch me!" He growled. Her flinch made his face soften. "I–" He tried again, softer this time. "Something is wrong with me."

"Don't shut me out then, Xiao," She said gently as she let her hand fall. "Tell me. What is it you need?"

"Claim you," He growled, eyes flicking up at hers. He watched her face flush as he kept his distance. "Everything in me is driving me to make you cry. Make you scream."

Xiao let out a shuddering breath. "Your scent is driving me to want to mark you. I want to sink my teeth into you."

Y/N was holding her breath at this point as he spoke, body trembling as he continued to restrain himself.

"I think it's finally happening. I'm finally starting to lose my mind. I'm going to hurt you. You need to leave, Y/N."

She blinked at that and smiled gently. "Xiao, you're not losing your mind. Not in that sense anyway."

Xiao blinked, listening to her words. She was so calm; gentle. Damn her.

"What do you mean?" He huffed.

"You're in a rut, Xiao. Has no one ever taught you about your Adeptus needs?" She asked gently, smiling up at him. "It's likely because my heat is nearing."

Xiao's face bloomed with heat as he eyed her, scanning her body as his nose twitched. There was something so sweet in her scent as she squirmed by him.

"I know what a rut is."

"But have you ever experienced one?" She asked softly as her heart hammered. "Because…we could…together, I mean."

"I'm going to hurt you."

"Good," She said, cupping his face.

With that, he snapped and lunged forward, kissing her heatedly as his arms caged her against his body. Her moan sent a shudder through his body.

His growl of need echoed in her ears as he suddenly lifted her. His movements were fast, turning her and pinning her against the wall. In the shadows of the inn they went, hidden from the moonlight on the balcony as his mouth consumed hers.

Y/N writhed and tugged her hands. His hand tightened on her wrists, keeping them over her head as she writhed against the wood. His free hand found her face as he pressed himself against her.

Friction, he realized. He needed to press against her. He needed to feel her touch. He needed anything.

Xiao groaned as he grinded against her hip. His hand slid down her face a slight as he broke the kiss to let her breathe. He didn't realize how heated he'd gotten as he held her to the wall. His fingers trailed over her jaw to her lips.

What she did next left the Adeptus whining with need.

Y/N, not daring to look away from his eyes, gently bit the fingertip of his glove and tugged until it'd fallen off. Tenderly, her tongue reached out.

She slowly rubbed her tongue against his index finger and pulled it into her mouth. Her eyes were dark with desire.

"Y/N," He whined as he rutted more against her. His body was trembling.

She blushed as he pressed a second finger into her mouth, bobbing her head as she lavished his fingers. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her hip as she adjusted, hooking her leg around his waist.

They both gasped as he began to hump against her core, stimulating both of them as he released her wrists to grab at her ass. His lips quickly found her neck.

Y/N whined happily. Her mouth being fingered. Her neck being bitten. His hard cock teased her clit through the clothing.

Her body ached and heated quickly in reaction to him as he lifted her. Their hips rolled, both refusing to be disconnected as her drool began to slip past her lips as his fingers began to thrust gently.

"You're…so warm," He groaned, biting against her pulse point. "I need…fuck–I need you."

"Please, Xiao," She whined with his fingers still pumping into her mouth.

He snarled against her skin before dropping her to her feet. She gasped as she was turned and pressed against the wall, her pants and undergarments ripped down as he frantically shoved down his own trousers.

"Xiao, please," She whined as his soaked fingers found her folds. His fingers buried into her cunt and made her whine softly. "Fuck, yes."

He bit his lip as he pumped his fingers quickly. "Is this correct?" He asked softly, lips against her ear. "I've seen…some couples out in the fields doing this. Am I doing this correctly?"

"Yes!" She whimpered, blushing darker as her hips rocked back.

She didn't focus on how he must've watched quietly from a distance. Did he touch himself to the sight maybe in secret?

Her walls clenched tight at the thought of him being a voyeur.

"You're soaked," He groaned as he pressed against her.

Xiao groaned as he used his fingers to spread her open as he pressed his tip.

Y/N whined as his fingers were quickly replaced by his cock, spreading and filling her as he slammed into her. Her body pressed into the wall left her unable to do much else but grip at the wall as his hands gripped her hips hard.

The Yaksha snarled and thrust hard, making her keen under him. His teeth found her ear, growling softly as he whined. "Fuck, so wet. Need, need this. Need you. Need you under me," He groaned.

His arms circled her waist and pulled her up as he straightened. Y/N yelped as she was pulled up until her toes barely touched the ground.

"Xiao! Ah!" She moaned lowly as she shyly began to reach between her legs.

Xiao bit his lip when her fingers rubbed her clit, making her walls squeeze him. Her legs trembled as he pumped his hips faster. The sound of his hips slamming into her ass echoed around them in the night.

His breaths came in soft pants as he held her tight to him.

His foot slipped and they dropped to the ground. He quickly caught her, protecting her as his hips kept moving.

"Fuck," He grunted when she huffed in surprise before mounting her more aggressively. "Mine!"

Y/N whined, back bowing to his thrusts. Her moans became muffled by her arm as she stayed prostrate before him, vulnerable to his onslaught. "Yours! Yours, Xiao! Oh gods…"

He snarled and snapped his hand around her throat as he stilled, grinding deep into her. "No god will answer your prayers," He whispered into her ear. "You only call my name. I will always come to claim you."

That did it for her, her body tightening and releasing like a spring. Her orgasm came in full force as he kept thrusting, riding her through her pleasure.

He whined, thrusting harder. "Y/N, Y/N, something…something is happening," He groaned. "I can't stop it! It feels–I need to keep moving!"

Her face flushed as he kept his hand tight around her neck, squeezing possessively. "Claim me," She rasped out.

Xiao's instincts moved before his mind registered a thing. His teeth snapped against the crook of her neck, digging as his hips moved.

Y/N whined as she felt his orgasm, biting her lip as he kept thrusting and whining against her flesh.

"That-That's it, Xiao," She whimpered. "Keep going. Keep cha-chasing that." She was panting as she spoke to him, leaving him weak. "You can k-keep going as long as you need."

With those words, his hands moved. One arm pinned her down by her shoulders as his free hand pulled her hips up more, allowing him to shove himself deeper as his seed sloppily began to leak out onto the terrace.

Y/N grunted and moaned, his cock still throbbing with need. "Feels…You feel too good," He whimpered. "It's too much. I can feel it happening again already!"

"Breed me, Xiao," She whined and he snapped.

His hips slammed into her, making her shudder and moan as they orgasmed together, panting and shaking against one another before he straightened.

Xiao caught his breath and looked down at her. Her shoulder was red from his harsh bite. Her folds were leaking from his essence and her fluids. Her body had a sheen layer of sweat on her skin as she gasped for air. The way she even slumped into the ground, exhausted, had him gulping as his cock twitched again, eager for more.

"Fuck," She whimpered, rocking her hips. "You–Bed. We…please," She whined.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

She hummed as he carefully rubbed her thighs. "Better?" He asked timidly.

"You really didn't have to," Y/N hummed tiredly.

Xiao's eyes flickered down her body. She was covered in his bites and his seed flooded from her abused hole. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon outside and her body was battered from the battle with him.

It's all he could think to describe what he'd done to her. "I wanted to," He hummed. He slowly moved over her and nuzzled her chest before kissing her. "My mate. You're mine."

"You're definitely not getting rid of me after all that," She chuckled tiredly, cupping his face. "Yours, Xiao."

#xiao x fem!reader #xiao genshin smut #genshin smut #adeptus y/n #adeptus reader #half adeptus #genshin fic #heat/rut #adeptus have heats because i said so

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dazed--xx · 25 days

Text

🌒Rewriting Destiny🌒

Member: Duke! Chan x reader

Word count: 16k

Trigger warnings: ANGST, Death (FL), psychological, trauma, poisoning, parental neglect/abuse, arranged marriage, anxiety, Nobility, engagement at a young age, regression, murder, revenge, mentions of magic, PTSD, manipulation, regretful ML, Resentment, betrayal, classism, 17th century ideals, homophobia(mentions), SOME!historical accuracy, LOTS! of historical inaccuracies, BREAK UP!, grief, mourning, denial, failure to let go, etc…

A/N: God damn this mf long lol, this has taken fucking forever but I worked really hard on it and HAD to break it into two parts because of the length. Part 2 will probably focus more on Chan 'redeeming' himself and their relationship in the current timeline and more flirty moments. BUT I really hope you guys enjoy this one

Love….

What is love, truly?

If you were to ask her mother; Love is weakness. A nuisance and any signs of it will be dealt with accordingly.

If you asked her personal maid; She’d say love is a burning passionate inferno you must work hard to be sure it doesn't extinguish.

For Y/N; Love is torture. It grabbed a hold of you like a boa constrictor, engulfing your entire being before slowly squeezing the life out of you. She sat quietly as her maid, Aera, brushed her onyx tresses. “I heard His grace has returned from his expedition. Shall I make you extra pretty so you can give him your greetings, My lady?” Area questioned with a sad yet hopeful smile. Y/N looked at her through the mirror, “His grace would prefer to return on another year-long expedition than have my greetings” She commented softly. Her voice never wavered though, she was dying inside. “No…rather set up tea and snacks in the garden for the returning knights and his grace. Also, have the cooks prepare a hearty meal for them for dinner. The expedition may have contributed to strengthening the knights but they have a habit of neglecting their health.” She continues. Area nods as she finishes doing Y/Ns hair.

“And if his grace asks for your whereabouts?”

“I will be in my study” Y/N answers, knowing it made no difference.

Though it had been a year since she had last seen her husband. Her heart always shook in fear and excitement when he would return home from his expeditions. She sat at her vanity, taking a deep breath as her mother's voice rang in her ear. ‘If you fail as the Dutchess and don't produce an heir; You would beg for my punishment in comparison to the power of the Bang Dutchy.’ She flinched at the memory, her arm lifting in a defensive position as she waited for the strike that hadn't come in 10 years. She lets out a sigh of relief as she's brought back into the luxurious bedroom. Her breathing is shaky as she lifts herself from her seat. Her hands tremble as she brings herself in front of her bedroom door, she hesitates as she reaches for the handle. Just quickly make your way to the study. She tells herself; Keep looking forward and go to the study…Her heart feels like it could pound out of her chest as she pulls the door open. Out into the battleground that is the Dutchy. Out of the safety of the cage that is her bedroom.

It had begun shortly after she had arrived at the manor. The whispers from the maids and butlers about the Count's temptress of a daughter who tried to seduce the Duke at 8 years old. She learned early on that responding to or acknowledging such rumors was unbecoming of a Dutchess. Y/N winced as she remembered the stinging of the riding crop against her spine, from her attempt to speak against her sister-in-law, Kari, who was cheerfully laughing with her friends over the matter. She learned quickly, that her mother was correct. Failure, Weakness, and Disloyalty will be quickly snuffed out in the Dutchy. Her sister-in-law held reign over the staff and managed the household, ruling with an iron fist. Despite her title, to survive, Y/N lived as Kari’s dog.

While she was expected to represent the Dutchy at social gatherings, the nobility always referred to Kari for anything. Y/N was the Dutchess by title only. Aera, who came with Y/N from the county; Would complain late into the night about the other staff's mistreatment of her master. The many nights Aera would stay up with Y/N pleading for her to put in a formal complaint with the Duke.

She couldn't…

When she had married Chan, he had only one request after their wedding night. “Do not approach me beyond our scheduled meetings” so she remained with her head down allowing Kari to maintain her position. While she enjoyed remaining in the shadows. She could see the cogs spinning in Kari’s mind. The leash around her neck was tightening. New rules had been implemented courtesy of her ‘Husband’ and his return from his expedition.

The Dutchess is to be moved to the Rose annex

The Dutchess will refrain from returning to the main manor

The Dutchess may never needlessly approach the Duke.

The Dutchess will begin taking contraceptive potions nightly, immediately.

Y/N sat at her desk looking over the declaration once more. She was confused. It was normal for Chan to ask for her presence to be absent when he returned home; he'd usually requested to speak with her to discuss living arrangements as well as a schedule for ‘night meetings’ to keep appearances that they were trying for an heir. Y/N felt slightly disappointed, Chan had requested for her to take a medicinal potion that has proven harmful to her health. She sat for hours staring blankly out the window. The signs were beginning to appear one by one. The family she had married into had lost use for her...

Y/Ns blood ran cold as she came to the realization. The move to the annex, the maids becoming more and more ruthless, and the lack of guards around her annex becoming more frequent. Her time is slowly coming to an end. She wondered if there was a point to all of this. Would there be a point in running? Her mother would hunt her down and skin her alive if she did. ‘Die a respected Dutchess rather than run and be a divorced beggar’ she could hear her mother say. Y/N watches as the blue clear sky fades into a bright purple and orange hue.

A knock on her door pulls her attention away from her thoughts. “Yes?” She calls monotonously. “The Duke is in the receiving room, My lady.” Area calls softly. Y/N's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “My lady?” Area calls once again when she doesn't reply. “I-Im coming! I apologize, Aera.” Y/N replies as she shakily lifts herself from her seat. The whole walk to the receiving room Y/N worried.

Why was he here? He's never visited of his own accord. What could be happening? Would he cast her out himself? A petite hand grips her own pulling her out of her thoughts. Y/N stares at the owner, as Aera gives her a comforting smile. Y/N lets out a sigh, the butler pulls open the door. She hesitates for a moment, it had been a year—one full year, since she had last seen her husband. A lot could change in a single year. She feared how her husband had changed; it was never good for her. She entered the room, her heart sank into her stomach. There he sat, at the head of the room. A flurry of maids standing about waiting on baited breath for his every command. His hair was no longer the clean-cut style but overgrown, sitting raggedly over his forehead and disheveled. Evidence of his bath dripping onto his loose black shirt. He sat a scowl on his plush lips as he sipped his tea. “To what do I owe the honor, Your grace?” Y/N questioned monotonously. “Should I have a reason to visit my dear wife?” He states smugly as he places his tea on the table in front of him. “Especially when I do not receive her greetings after a year-long monster-hunting expedition and come to discover she no longer lives in the same house as me?” Y/N stares at him in bewilderment and confusion. “Your grace?” She stammered “Please, take a seat” He gestured to the loveseat in front of him, his face no longer containing any emotion.

Y/N sits nervously as she begins to question her husband. “I apologize, but what do you mean? I’ve received your letter and followed your instructions.” Chan furrowed his eyebrows as his ears perked up “What letter?” Y/N's attention is pulled away from him by the slight clink of a teacup being placed on the table in front of her. Y/N's eyes remained focused on the maid for a moment, she couldn't quite put her finger on it but something felt…off. “Have you gone deaf in the past 5 minutes?” Chan questions frustratedly. Y/N shakes her head taking hold of the teacup and taking a sip. “No, I apologize. I've not been feeling well today” Y/N states calmly. Her throat begins to feel a small burning sensation. “What letter? When did you receive a letter from me?” Chan asks stoically. Y/N coughs slightly “My apologies, I received your letter about one months time ago” She takes another sip of tea trying to alleviate the growing discomfort. Chan stares at her with his eyebrows raised “And you are sure it was addressed from me?” her throat begins to burn incessantly. Her eyes widen as her mouth fills with a coppery tast as she coughs again.

“My lady?!?!” Area exclaims worriedly “Y/N?!”

Only then does Y/N make the connection. The maid—She works in the main manor, and she’s Kari’s personal maid. Y/N stares at the teacup in her hand, dropping it in a panic. Her eyes meet Chan’s for a moment. He sat stoically, but his eyes never once left her. Y/N rushes to her feet, reaching out for her personal maid “Aera!” She calls. Her tone gurgles and hoarse as crimson cascades out of her mouth. Her legs give way beneath her as she feels arms around her. The room begins to grow blurry as she feels the life fading from her body.

No…No not yet, please God! Don't let me die! I didn't get away…I-I was never happy please! She prays God please let me be happy. “If I could do it all over again…Id have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…” She croaks as everything fades to black.

Her eyes shot open as she felt breath return to her lungs. Her hands trembled at her sides, her heart pounded in her chest. The familiar white walls with gold accents has her in a daze as she pulls herself from the duvet and rushes toward the window. My parents estate…She lets out a sigh as she steps back toward the bed. A warm soft wall blocks her path, “oomph” she hears from behind her. “M-My apologies, My Lady” a petite gentle voice called. Y/N's eyebrows furrow as she scans her maid's face. Aera looked…different—younger even. “I-I’m Aera…” she continued.

“What?” Y/N questions bewildered “Why are you introducing yourself to me? Am I at my parents estate?”

Aera gives her a befuddled expression “Pardon?”

“I know your name Aera, you've worked for me for 10 years now.”

Aera shakes her head at Y/Ns words “No, My lady. Today is my first day…” Y/N freezes for a moment. “Bring me a mirror!” she requests firmly. Aera rushes to her vanity and hands her a jade-handled mirror. Y/N stared at the object with shock and disbelief. How could this be possible? She wondered Kari had one of her maids destroy this on my wedding night…How—She flips the mirror, gasping in shock she's met with a youthful version of herself. Her cheeks were no longer sunken in and now sat a lively pink. Her skin and lips no longer pale and cracked. The scars from Kari’s punishments no longer decorated her hands and arms.

Did God hear her prayers? Has time gone back?

“Aera!” Y/N calls in an almost chipper tone. The young maid's ears perk up as she waits for a command. “Yes, My lady?” she answered eagerly. “You said it was your first day, correct?” Y/N questions kindly remembering how meek and nervous the young maid was when she first started. Aera nods profusely “Yes, My lady. The count and countess said I will be going with you after your marriage as it is customary.” she explains. Y/N smiles at her, their memories from the past 10 years flow through her mind. “Yes, I have heard as such” She states with a soft nod. “Take care of me well...” Y/N sighs happily “I will do my best!” Aera exclaims excitedly. “B-But, My lady?…May I ask why you said I have worked here the past 10 years?”

Y/N freezes for a moment. She didn't understand it herself. Had I really gone back in time? Could it have been a prophetic dream? How could I answer her? “I tend to get confused after a long sleep, My apologies” A loud bang on her door startled both of the young women. Y/N hears a familiar voice, her nanny, pleading with someone on the other side of the door. The familiar call of her nanny's voice has her rushing to the door and pulling it open. Her heart sinks to her stomach as she comes face to face with her mother.

A sharp sting on her cheek and the sound of skin connecting with each other rings through the air. Y/Ns legs give out beneath her as she stares up at her mother in shock, as she attempts to rack her brain in search of her mother's reasoning. It all felt too familiar “M-Mother…” Y/N stammered nervously. Her mother scowls at her “Have I given you permission to speak?” Y/N shakes her head rapidly; Her nanny and the maids stand frozen in their places as her mother brings her can down forcefully on her right hand. Y/N cries out in pain “I-I'm sorry!” she whimpers. “You should be. Not only did you have the sodomite escort you. The behavior you showed with that—that lowly Knight. You deserve worse…How dare you embarrass your family like that?!” Her mother scolded. Y/N shakes her head in denial as she finally remembers. “N-No…Hyunji—w-we were just talking—please!” She pleads trying to move her mother's cane from her hand.

“You are to be married to the future heir of the Bang Dutchy and you are galivanting with a knight. Smiling at another man in the same room as your fiancé.!” Her mother growled. “H-He’s a knight of the Bang Dutchy. I should be acquainted with my future people…” Y/N tries to argue to no avail. Her mother lifts the cane holding it firmly in her hand as she brings it down harshly on Y/Ns spine. Y/N cries out painfully “Stop!”

“Stop?! You behave like a courtesan and you expect not to be punished?!” Her mother brings the cane down in 3 quick whips.

“Countess! Countess! The bruises may not heal in time for the wedding!” Her nanny pleads “She learned her lesson…please!” Y/N stares at the ground burying the pain and tears as her mother taught her oh so many years ago. “Don't embarrass this family more than you already have.” her mother warns before turning and exiting the room. Y/N released a breath she didn't realize she was holding as the maids quickly shuffled around her. Bringing her to her feet and rapidly cleaning the small traces of blood on the ground. Y/N stared blankly ahead as they continued to fret and fuss about.

It would almost be impossible to call off the engagement…Mother would kill me if I was somehow able to get the contract annulled. Kari will kill me if I get married….10 years is a lot more time to come up with a plan….I just have to either get Bang Chan to help me annul the engagement(which should be no problem considering around now is when he began to despise me) or run away before Kari can kill me…

Please!

Do something!

Y/N?!

Someone help me please?!

Why are you just sitting there?!

Y/N? Please…Im begging you!

Open your eyes!

Chan’s eyes flash open. His heart is pounding rapidly in his chest as he caresses his head. Sitting up in bed he feels dizzy, his vision slightly blurry. “Young Master. Please lie down…you drank quite a bit last night.” His aide, Felix, states with a disappointed frown. Chan shakes his head in frustration. “Wouldn't you?” He growls. Felix stares at him stoically. “I understand the future young miss upset you. But it was I who suggested she get acquainted with the knights…you did not need to overindulge”

Chan furrows his eyebrows “Future young miss? What are you talking about?!” Chan snaps “I'm not getting married again I told you this!”

Felix raises his eyebrow in confusion “Pardon? Again” Felix brings his hand to Chan’s forehead. “Are you not feeling well?” Chan shakes his hand off of him. Only then does he realize; Felix looked…different. It was Felix, he could clearly see it was him, but he was—younger! Chan quickly shoved his duvet to the side and rushed over to the large mirror across the room. His eyes widened as his youthful appearance came into view. “Felix?!” Chan exclaims excitedly as he touches his own face over and over “How old am I?!”

Felix stares at him like he's grown a second head “19?” He answers confused. Chan smiles at himself in the mirror as a laugh erupts from his chest. He takes a few steps back as tears fill his eyes. “It worked…” He whispers to himself. “It really worked…” A sob begins to crash over him like a tidal wave as tears cascade down his cheeks. “Young master?” Felix questions worriedly. Chan shakes his head in response. He won't understand….not anymore Chan thinks to himself. “Nothing” Chan sniffles quickly trying to pull himself together. “So about the young miss?” Felix questions. “It's just as you said. The rumors about her started because of your suggestion. You should get ahead of them and have any one that spreads false information dealt with immediately.” Chan states as his eyes grow dark.

His mind wanders to Y/N…A new life Y/N, I promise. I'll give you a new life. I'll make sure marrying me isn't your biggest regret this time. Her memories, her pain, her death. He prays it was all reset with this spell. He wished he could forget it all too. But now he had a chance. A chance to fix things. A way to make sure nothing bad could happen this time: a chance to protect her properly this time. “Felix what's on my schedule today?”

“A meeting with the Duke. Then to the training grounds after that, I believe Lady Kim wished to have tea to discuss your venture into her guild. After that, I believe the Dutchess has requested your presence at dinner tonight.” Felix explained studiously. Chan held back a snicker at the way his best friend behaved when they were younger. Remembering the astute Mage he's destined to become. “Tell Lady Kim, I apologize but I must go to the L/N County,” Chan states as Felix hands him a button-down shirt and black slacks. “Also, please inform the count Id like to speak with him.” Chan explains as he grabs his clothes and begins to dress himself. Felix places his hand on Chan's shoulder giving him a knowing but serious look as he shakes his head in disapproval. Chan sighs in frustration. God dammit…he does remember.

“Fine. Tell my father that I will be there soon”

Y/N strolled quietly through the garden as her mind wandered. How could she get away from here? She sighed; Her hands trembled slightly at how terrible the punishment would be for attempting to call off her engagement. The sun's rays danced upon her cheeks. The warmth embraced her comfortingly. Her greenhouse appears over the small hill leading off the property and into the forest. Her heart swelled in happiness. It had been so long since she had last seen her little oasis. After she had woken up in the past; her mother placed her on strict lockdown after the ‘stunt’ she pulled at the banquet. It was now 10 days until her wedding… She pouted to herself He's going to be visiting soon….She could remember vividly how it went the first time

*10 years ago- First timeline*

Y/N stood in the garden. A small smile on her lips as she helped the gardener with the Strelitzias. Her heart quaked in anticipation. She's going to be married in 5 days. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her fiancé would be arriving at any moment. Y/N couldn't contain the giddiness she felt at seeing her handsome raven-haired fiancé. She had not seen him for 2 years due to his involvement in the war. She had heard he returned a month prior

Y/N felt slightly disappointed when Chan did not come to see her right after his return. They had grown close over the past few years. She assumes that the war had left him fatigued and he needed rest. It had been odd to her that she had also learned of his return through the rumor mill and not from him. She had written him frequently during the war, though his letters have dwindled over the past year she still held out hope. Hope that he felt the same way. Hope for their future. Hope for friendship and mutual love. So as she returned back to her room and learned Chan was in the reception room, she quickly rushed to greet him. Her heart almost burst with excitement.

She smiled brightly as she entered the room. “Channie!” she exclaimed cheerfully as she made her way to the loveseat across from Chan. She freezes when he lifts his hand and a dark glare sits on his face. “Please refrain from using such childish nicknames. I am the heir to the Bang Dutchy; not one of your lowly playmates” He states monotonously. Y/N's eyebrows furrow in confusion “I-I apologize, Your Grace” Chan nods boredly, he snaps his finger, and his aide, Felix, hands him a small stack of letters. “Also, refrain from doing this anymore as well. Our engagement and marriage are nothing but formalities. Do not allow yourself to be confused.” He tilts his head slightly with an arrogant smirk. “There is no reason to harass me with useless things while I am at war. I am only marrying you to inherit my rightful title.” He scolds. Tears build in Y/Ns eyes as she stares into her lap for a moment. She takes one…two….three shaky breaths before she quickly masks her emotions. “I made the mistake of believing we were friends. I apologize, Your Grace” She states meekly. Her expression is completely blank as she stared at Chan. “I do not recall myself telling you we are friends, I do not wish to grow a close relationship with you!” He snaps “I understand, and why is this? What have I done?” Y/N questions.

“A lowly Count’s daughter like you doesn't deserve to marry into the Bang Dutchy. You lack the education, etiquette, and overall quality to be the Dutchess…but since my mother is so insistent on this. Be sure to stay out of my way—both before and after our wedding. I will do my husbandly duties but do not expect love nor affection in our marriage”

*Present*

Y/N shuddered at the memory. She wished she could go back and smack herself for allowing him to belittle her in such an embarrassing manner. At the time, she sat still and properly lowered her head due to his words. This time, she will take any form of punishment from her mother just to make Chan the one flustered and utterly mortified. She'd lay down her life if that's what it takes to prevent the marriage she experienced before she came back in time. “My lady, why are you just staring at the door?” Aeras petite voice pulls her from her thoughts. Y/N jumps from the intrusion, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “I was just thinking…” she chuckles slightly.

“You have received a letter from the young master of the Bang Dutchy….” Aera states softly as she extends her hands holding a small letter tray with an envelope sitting in the middle. The Bang seal is a prominent fixture in the middle of the envelope. Y/N stares at the tray for a moment. What? He never sent me a letter before he arrived in my past life… why? She questioned to herself as her eyes never once left the seal. “My lady?” Aera asks worriedly. Y/N shakes her head in response as she takes the letter and opening it.

‘Dear Lady Y/N,

I apologize for not writing you sooner. War had taken hold of my mind and I could not allow myself to be distracted. I returned home a little over 20 days ago, and once again I extend my apologies. I must say, I find myself wondering how you are doing. My mind seems to be full of nothing but you. Have these two years been kind to you? My heart races in anticipation at the thought of our marriage. I know these past two years may have been difficult but as I am home now, I will take care of you. I hope to see you. I long to see you, my heart aches as these days pass and I am losing my patience. May I please see you tomorrow? You cannot imagine my longing. I shall wait for your letter.’

-Bang Chan

Y/N's eyes widen as her cheeks burn a bright scarlet as she reads the contents of the letter. Why did he say these things? Who was this person? How could things be so different than I remember? “Aera, Can you please bring me stationary and something to write with?” She requests flustered.

No matter how many sweet words may be exchanged…Our marriage is only destined for disaster.

Chan’s leg shook in excitement. He'd sent Y/N a letter just this morning yet, he was on the edge of his seat. Hoping she’d respond as she always did. He felt giddy at the thought of receiving one of her love-filled letters once again. He'd missed reading every passionate word. She wouldn't leave his mind. Her smile, Her soft expressions, the gentle honorable way she held herself. Everything about his fiancè had his body practically vibrating. He no longer wished to wait to claim his wife once again. He lost her in his previous life, long before the burning memory of her final moments continuously plagued his dreams nightly. He needed to see her, speak to her, and finally for once just hold her. He prayed for her letter to come soon. He contemplated just using his title to force his way into the County and planting himself beside her, but Felix warned against it. ‘Never force your emotions on a woman’ He explained. Chan felt as if he was going mad.

A knock on his door has him jumping to his feet. The sight of a letter in the butler's hand makes him rush to grab it off the tray. He stared at the letter, his finger tracing over the count's seal. He couldn't help but feel a slight twinge in his chest. He could remember how excited he'd get to receive a letter from her in his first life. Every letter he had received from her contained this seal. He could still remember how harshly he'd been forced to snap on her in his previous life about her letters. He scolded himself, but he never received another letter from her after that day. Even then, he regretted saying those words as soon as he uttered them. But at the time, the risk Kari posed in her life overpowered any feelings he had for his fiancè. He should have realized back then, that even if he distanced himself from her as long as Y/N sat on the Dutchess seat, her life would be in danger. His breath was shaky as he opened her letter.

‘Dear Lord Chan,

My apologies, your grace. I have been ill recently and cannot see you. Welcome back, as you understand rest is important to ones health so I believe it would be best to not see each other until I've regained my strength.

-Y/N L/N’

Chan's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as it felt like his heart was shattering in his chest. No…Why? She's lying…Why is she lying? She's not sick…she wasn't in my previous life…so why? His hands shook at his side as anger and confusion bubbled inside of him. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Why would she lie? In the past, she was waiting for me! She loves me right now so why? I hadn't made any mistakes yet…….

Perhaps she was truly ill, yet he couldn't remember a single sign of illness from his previous memories. He can vividly remember her excitement, the cheerful way she exclaimed his childhood nickname. Is she avoiding me? No…She couldn't be…She loves me…She adores me…but what if—-his stomach churned. “No, there has to be an explanation.” He whispers to himself. “I should send the doctor there and—Felix!” He calls “Prepare a carriage!” He had to see for himself, he needed to see her—even just a small glimpse would satisfy this desperate ache. The memory of his beloved coughing up blood as she desperately clung to her personal maid, sent a sharp spear through his chest. Her final words ring through his mind ‘If I could do it all over again…Id have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…’ He winced to himself. As the image of her body appears before him, he drops to his knees in a panic. His breath gets caught in his throat as he desperately reaches out toward the apparition. No! She's alive! She's alive now…I need to see her. I need to be absolutely sure everything is going right. “How am I supposed to continue waiting?!” Chan exclaims to himself as he clenched his fist slamming it on the ground.

“Patience…” A familiar deep voice responds. Chan lifts his head as he sees Felix holding Y/N’s letter. “Felix…—No. My memories may slowly be returning but I do remember how specific I was…nothing. And I mean nothing must change prior to your first meeting that day with Y/N. Your impatience can ruin everything we've worked for!” Felix cuts him off. “I don't remember this from before so why do you have another letter? When did you request to see her?” Felix questions. Chan shakes his head, “How did you expect me to just remain still and try to do things like before?! How can you expect me to not want to see her?!” Felix snaps his finger and the letter goes up in flames. Chan’s eyes widen as a look of horror decorates his features. “NO! What did you do?”

“I'm fixing the mistakes you made, lets hope things didn't change too much with this. I told you, there are consequences for even going back in time. Someone is still going to die. If you act before it is time, then that person will be Y/N again. The only person who can change things now is her. It's her life at stake. It's her fate! She's the only one permitted to mess with it. Things will go the same if you try too early. Remember, her memories aren't intact.” Felix states. “I will contact my resource in the county and give you an update on her okay? That is the most we can do until your paths cross as they did before.” He stares at Chan with a serious expression. Even at his small level of magic, his ability was terrifying. He implanted his memories to return slowly so as to not overwhelm his body with mana. Placing the unlocked mana of a high mage into his younger self could ruin any magic he had done before he turned back time.

“Can’t I just go see her…I will not interact with her. Just see her, she likes her garden so it shouldn't be too difficult to not be seen?” Chan asks desperately. Felix gives him an apologetic look. Chan feels himself deflate. Why didn't I see her when I first came home in my previous life? He whimpered to himself My beloved Y/N, wait for me.

Y/N’s hand trembles as her carriage approaches Bang Manor. She stared blankly into her lap, her hands looking almost smaller with the bright pink lace gloves sitting just above her elbow. The corsetted pink dress felt like pins and needles upon her skin. She adjusted the bust attempting to cover the very prominent cleavage. “Stop fussing with it!” Her mother growls. “It does not feel proper nor comfortable…” Y/N calmly states. Her mother closes her fan leaning forward with a smirk “Comfort, is a luxury you cannot afford. You need to look and behave perfectly.”

Y/N nods half-heartedly. “Men, no matter their title or accolades, cannot resist a womans ‘charm’ even a woman like you” her mother snides. “Mother, it is a garden party, for the women of high society. There will be no men.”

“Do you forget who's home this is?”

“How could I forget…” Y/N felt herself growing more and more frustrated at her mother's insistence on continuing the conversation. She did not wish to attend this garden party. How she wished her nanny hadn't been able to talk her mother down a few days ago now. In her previous life, Y/N begged and pleaded with her mother to allow her to attend this party. Her future sister-in-law personally invited her and her attendance was expected but, due to the banquet fiasco and the bruises left from her punishment, Y/N was forced to remain home while her mother attended the older women's party. Now that she knew what could possibly await her and Kari’s true nature, Y/N would do anything to not attend this party. She would have to remain alert and proper. She could not make a single mistake. Kari was as manipulative as she was beautiful. She was cunning and could destroy Y/Ns life with a single smirk. Y/N was the daughter of a lowly Count, though she had been engaged to Chan for 7 years now; Kari always liked to remind her of her position in society.

This garden party, in particular, Kari would describe as an introductory party. In her past, Y/N learned why Kari truly held these parties. Kari and the most prosperous daughters of the nobility enjoyed vetting and ‘playing’ with the hopeful ‘lower class’ of Viscounts, Barons and Earls. They'd enjoy pretending to spend time with the daughters all while slowly sucking away their ability to think a single thought without the higher-up's input. Y/N was the 14th girl they had done this to in both of her lifetimes, unfortunately. “Countess, Lady Y/N we have arrived.” the coachman called. Y/N's heart sinks deeper into her stomach as she feels a wave of nausea takes over her. Her mother raised her eyebrow as she stared at her. “Behave. And don't embarrass us.” Her mother growls as she exits the carriage and makes her way into the manor. Y/N steadies her breathing for a moment before she slowly lifts herself from her seat, exiting the carriage she is greeted by the familiar staff. The memories of their cruel taunts and whispers flash through her mind. Words get caught in her throat as she looks away from them. They didn't do it yet…things have changed…they won't hurt me this time. She reassures herself. A maid points her to the path to the garden, taking a deep breath she makes her way over to the party.

Y/N couldn't help but admire the Dutchess’ garden, knowing how much pride her mother-in-law put into creating this garden herself. Leaning in to smell the gorgeous roses she halts as a mop of jet-black hair catches her attention. She couldn't say she was surprised at the expensive, elegant aura Kari radiated. The false friendly smile that sat perfectly on her plush lips, as she ‘entertained her new pets.’ Y/N stood frozen in place as she watched her sister-in-law chat with her friends, looking almost innocent. If this had been the past, Y/N would have rushed over to the table excitedly as she imagined every other girl did when they arrived. She mentally curses herself when Kari’s eyes meet hers. A bright beaming smile forms on the younger girl's lips as she lifts herself from her seat at the table and makes her way over. “I'm glad to see you made it! My brother said you have been ill.” Kari exclaimed. “Greetings Lady Bang. My health has improved and I made a commitment, I'm here to honor it.” Y/N responded with the same amount of faux enthusiasm. Kari smiles as she tilts her head slightly “How becoming of the future Dutchess.” Kari gestures toward the table. “Please, have a seat.” Y/N stares at the only free seat available, right beside Kari and her friends.

Y/N could feel their scornful stares behind their sweet facades. She despised these women, the select few that made her previous life absolute hell. “Lady Y/N, I heard life in the county can be quite desolate. I'm glad to see its beginning to prosper considering your dress.” A red head named Sera questioned. Sera’s father, a marquis, was a ruthless tyrannical man. In her past life, Sera did not fall too far behind him. She was a viper of a woman. Her venom laced rumors could make or break a young woman reputation in high society. Kari eventually cast Sera out when it was revealed she had been in an 12 year affair with a knight in her fathers estate and in her desperation, attempted to bed Chan. Being the overprotective younger sister she was, Kari quickly cut off one of Sera’s hands at the wrist. ‘Do not covet something nor someone far above you…’ Kari warned the redhead.

Y/N shuddered at the memory. The sounds of Sera’s ear piercing blood curtling screams began to echo in her mind. “Where else would she have gotten it?” A blonde girl, Naeun, snickered “Her fiancè is the future Duke. Of course he wouldn't want her to wear her normal rags…” Y/N felt her blood run cold at the mention of Chan as she stares blankly at the teacup. She could imagine her mothers expression from the table across the garden. She knew proper etiquette; she should just drink the tea but, the idea of raising a single cup from this home has her growing weary. Kari had a target on her back for a long time. Y/N herself did not know for sure how long ago Kari’s hatred of her began. She couldn't be sure if her life was safe at the moment. Kari stared at her mischievously, “Is the tea not to your liking?” Y/N instinctively perked up as she lifted the cup to her lips taking a hesitant sip. “My apologies,” Y/N stated graciously “I must have lost myself for a moment.” Kari raised her eyebrow, a smirk hidden behind her teacup. “Beside that, I heard you recently became acquainted with our Knight, Hyunjin, has he lived up to your expectations?” Kari questioned innocently. “Beyond, as you may have heard I will be married soon, I recently heard he will be marrying his fiancé shortly after becoming my escort. What a lovely couple I will have serve me, I felt it was best to become acquainted prior so they could enjoy a honeymoon. I'd be honored for them to serve me on their return. ” Y/N countered politely.

“I’m sure you would…” Sera chimed.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, it's just—it has been said you adore beautiful men so it wouldn't be surprising that Hyunjin is the first knight you approach…” Sera snides as the rest of the table begins to whisper amongst themselves. Y/N fought the need to groan “Are you insinuating something?” She questioned gracefully. Sera smirks as she flashes Kari a side-eye before responding when Kari nods subtly “I feel it is unbecoming of the future Dutchess to be involved in such a scandal. Imagine the embarrassment your fiancè must feel…” Y/N couldn't hold back her snicker “I expect you would know more about something like that, no? And the only ‘beautiful men’ I have been seen with are my future guard, my brother, and my fiancè. ” Y/N raises her eyebrow as she stares Sera down. “Your brother? Isn't he a fugitive?” Naeun questions worriedly as the group continues to whisper. “For what crime?” Sera questions with a look of concern. If there was anything Y/N could give to these three; it was their knack for theatrics. “Sodomy. He lies with men, but how could it be helped he comes from a perverse family.” Naeun gossiped. Y/N feels her blood boil, turning to Kari she lifts herself from her seat. “I must apologize. It seems I have not been as well as it seemed” She states before she quickly turns away from the table and makes her way back toward her carriage. She could feel three sets of eyes burning holes into her back as she made her escape.

Staring at nothing but the ground she walked away attempting to remain as invisible as possible. No wonder Chan changed so much…what else must he have heard back then? Have I always seemed so….disgusting? What did my brother do wrong? He was an amazing person, why did who he loved matter to everyone else? How could anyone be so nasty? A wall of muscle pulls her out of her thoughts as she collides with someone. “My apologies…” she squeaks as she pulls away attempting to make another escape due to her embarrassment. Her eyes widen when she feels two strong hands on her waist holding her steady. Her eyes trail from the broad firm chest covered by the black petticoat embroidered with golden tassels, up to their face. Her heart pounds rapidly against her chest as she comes face-to-face with her fiancè. “No, I should have been paying better attention but I grew distracted.” Chan apologized, his tone laced with something unfamiliar to her. “D-Distracted?” Y/N felt herself growing overwhelmed and panicked. It had been so long since I had last seen him…She thinks to herself Has he always been this beautiful? She shakes the thought out of her head as she feels Chan caress her cheek. His eyes never leave hers as he gives her a small smile. Why are you looking at me like that? She wonders.

“Yes, I was entranced by the view and lost myself”

A squeak is released from her throat as Chan pulls her into his chest. “Y-Your grace?” she exclaimed in shock. She feels Chan freeze for a moment, his hands coming to hold her shoulders as he pulls back. His eyebrows furrow together as he leans in close and examines her face intently. Embarrassment fills her stomach as her cheeks become a bright scarlet “C-Channie?” the nickname falls out of her mouth uncontrollably. Chan’s eyes brighten as his lips spread into a widen grin. “What a relief….” He whispers to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing, where are you going? Are you still not feeling well?”

“Unfortunately, so I am returning home.” Y/N lies. Chan stares at her with an almost desperate and heartbroken look. “N-No! But—why don't you lay down inside?” Chan suggests panickedly. Y/N stares at him bewildered. Who is this man? The Chan I know would have never suggested for me to rest here. “It would be best for me to return home…” she answers calmly. “Why? If it is about privacy, your room has been prepared for you already.” He responds casually. Y/N stared at him confused. My room? Before…i never had a room. Just guest room after guest room until I was banished to the annex…. “M-My room?”

“Yes? We are to be married in 7 days time. Why would you not have a room?”

“I—we aren't married yet…”

“You sound quite relieved about that….” Chan states with a sad pout. Y/N stares at him bewildered “Pardon?” a smirk forms on his lips “Was I wrong? You won't abandon me at the altar, correct?” he chuckles. Y/N doesn't say anything, just frozen in place with his arm wrapped around her waist as he leads her toward the manor. Her mouth hung open “That was not funny was it? My apologies” Chan states nervously as he escorts her inside. “Y-Your grace…it would be quite inappropriate for me to stay here. I will be returning home, my apologies” Y/N states trying to sound firm and still graceful as she turns to walk back toward her carriage. Chan grips her wrist softly “Y/N, wait! Please.” Y/N forces her wrist out of his hand. “Unhand me! Listen, and listen well…I don't wish to marry you. A marriage to you means too much and I don't want that responsibility. I don't want to be the Dutchess nor do I wish to continue to be held with such contempt by so many people. If you haven't heard, I'm not worthy of such a title. And I'm not going to risk my life to be married to you.” She growls trying to hold herself together. Chan stares at her wide-eyed for a moment before his eyes darken “What? What are you talking about? Who said you aren't worthy of that title?” Y/N shakes her head, “Do not mind that. Just know, that I will not marry you with joy and acceptance in my heart…”

“What happened? Tell me. Now.”

“Why must something have happened?”

“Were you going to answer a single one of my questions?” Chan retorts a menacing tone in his voice as he enters the garden with Y/N hot on his heels. “Your Grace, please, it is nothing..” She pleads with him as the laughter from the garden begins to ring through her ears. “Your grace!” Chan continues to ignore her as he walks straight up to Kari. “Pardon me ladies, but I must speak with my dear sister….” Chan states menacingly as he grips Kari’s arm lifting her from her seat and pulling her toward the Manor. “What is this about?” Kari questions, her eyes wide as fear takes over her features. As he passes a knight he leans over to him “Show Lady Y/N L/N to her room.” He commands in a whispered tone. “And do not allow her to leave until I've spoken with her.” The knight walks over to Y/N, “This way, My lady” He gestures toward the path she had just taken. With a reluctant nod, Y/N follows him.

“Y-Your grace…it would be quite inappropriate for me to stay here. I will be returning home, my apologies”

Chan’s heart sinks, No…You can't! Why? Why do you want to leave so bad? I've finally seen you, you're finally here in front of me….why are you behaving like this? His hand reaches out instinctively as she turns away, gripping her wrist softly “Y/N, wait! Please.” An ache forces its way through his chest as she pulls her wrist out of his hand. “Unhand me! Listen, and listen well…I don't wish to marry you.” Lies… “ A marriage to you means too much and I don't want that responsibility.” You can't be telling me the truth! You have to be lying…. “ I don't want to be the Dutchess nor do I wish to continue to be held with such contempt by so many people.” What? Contempt? My beloved…. “If you haven't heard, I'm not worthy of such a title. And I'm not going to risk my life to be married to you.” She growls trying to hold herself together. Chan stares at her wide-eyed for a moment before his eyes darken, I’ll kill them all… “What? What are you talking about? Who said you aren't worthy of that title?” His tone full of venom, his blood boils when Y/N only shakes her head and tries to wave him off “Do not mind that. Just know, that I will not marry you with joy and acceptance in my heart…” This couldn't be true, not after everything he had done. Not before he could make amends. Something….something had to have happened.

“What happened? Tell me. Now.”

“Why must something have happened?”

“Y-You wouldn't be like this….You love me. What happened? Tell me and I can correct it. Who said you aren't worthy of being the Dutchess? Was it someone at Kari’s party?” Chan questions his anger growing more and more evident. He notices the way she flinches at the mention of Kari’s party. That conniving little rodent! Seething at the way Y/N had a flash of fear when it came to this simple party. She should have been fine! She should have been safe! Kari’s hatred ran much deeper than I expected….He thinks to himself as he brushes past Y/N making his way toward the entrance to the garden. “Where are you going?” Y/N questions worriedly. He shakes his head to himself as he ignores her and continues walking. “It is unbecoming of the future Duke to just abruptly end a conversation by walking away…”

“Were you going to answer a single one of my questions?” Chan retorts a menacing tone in his voice as he enters the garden with Y/N hot on his heels. “Your Grace, please, it is nothing..” She pleads with him as his sister comes into his view, seeing nothing but red he makes his way over to his sister. “Your grace!” Chan continues to ignore Y/N as he stands in front of Kari. “Pardon me ladies, but I must speak with my dear sister….” Chan states menacingly, taking note of the fearful and guilty way she looked back at his fiancè before he grasps Kari’s arm lifting her from her seat and pulling her toward the Manor. “What is this about?” Kari questions, her eyes wide as fear takes over her features. Good….Time for you to learn your place here…He seethes as he passes a knight he leans over to him “Show Lady Y/N L/N to her room.” He commands in a whispered tone. “And do not allow her to leave until I've spoken with her.” Chan continues making his way into the manor with Kari.

“You can't just embarrass me like this!” Kari whines as she stomps her foot while the butlers open the main door.

“You cannot handle a fraction of the embarrassment you've caused Lady Y/N?!” He growls. “I do not understand, brother please just explain…” Kari stammered nervously. “Do you think me a fool?” Chan snaps as he grabs a vase and chucks it against the wall “Which one of those women told my fiance she is not worthy of our marriage?” Kari stares at him wide-eyed, her anger and fury decorating her features. “She may hear worse things when she becomes the Dutchess. She cannot run to you every time someone says something rude! And a lowly—whore like her is not worthy of becoming the Dutchess” She argues. Chan draws his sword as his eyes burn with a passionate rage “If you wish for your tongue to remain in your mouth, I would stop speaking”

“I am your sister! I am your true family! You would betray your blood for some pathetic Count's daughter? Placing someone so—so dirty in that position is an insult to our entire lineage!” Kari argues, Chan knows this could be dangerous. Y/N could be hurt faster by him pissing his sister off but between finding out just the fraction of what Y/N was put through at the hands of his sister before she died, and Y/N brushing him off because of his sister and her antics; his rage could not be contained any longer. “You have no need to worry, I will handle her and she knows I would like to speak with her after the party.” Kari continues. “No. You've proven too lenient with your friends, bring her to me. You have until the end of the day!” Chan declares.

“No! You’re going to be too harsh on her when she said nothing untrue! Lady Y/N is not worthy of being the Dutchess. Just from her family’s reputation alone she should not be permitted to be in that position! There is nothing honorable about bringing a crazy incoherent count, a vile and ignorant countess nor their sodomite son into our family and tainting it with their blood! She’s dirty and tainted because they are!” Kari snaps

“Have you forgotten who chose this engagement?! You volatile spoiled little child! I have gifted you leniency because father always concerns himself with your health but your insolence will stop now. You are to stay in the rose annex until you've repented by bringing me the one that said the fiancè chosen by both me and the current Dutchess is unworthy; Only then will your punishment be lifted.” Chan states firmly as he walks away from the foyer leaving Kari burning with a passionate rage in her stomach.

“You can't just do this to me! Because of one whore?!”

“Guards, bring my sister to the rose annex. She is to stay there until the one that has spoken such blasphemous words has been dealt with.” Chan ignores her as he makes his way to Y/Ns room on the second level of the Manor. His heart races as he knocks trying to quell his anger. “Come in…” Y/N calls monotonously. Chan hesitates for a moment. Has she calmed down? Will she pull away again? He sighs heavily as he pushes the door open. Y/N sat by the window staring blankly out of it, “May I return home?” She questions softly. “You should rest for a while and return home after…” He suggests kindly, as he strides across the room, his hand caressing her lower back. Y/N continues to stare out the window. Chan's eyes wander over her face. His heart fluttered as he embedded every inch of her face into his memory. The beautiful sunset hues that painted the room, she looked ethereal.

I have to get out of here....

Y/N thought to herself. She could feel Chan's eyes burning holes into her face. Confusion flowed through her. Why was he behaving so.....oddly? For the first time in a long time, she prayed her mother would be looking for her. She felt Chan shift, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned on her slightly. She notices the soft inhale he does as he nuzzles against her neck. "Y-Your grace?" She questions nervously as she steps forward slightly releasing his grip on her. "My apologies..." Chan smirks subtly "I was entranced by such beauty and behaved according to my own desires" he states flirtatiously. Y/N stares at him, her cheeks flushed as a bewildered gaze is painted on her features. What?....He couldn't be talking about....me? right? She wondered, How can he be so different than before? "W-well, I would like to request that you please refrain from such things, i-it is inappropriate and can be misunderstood" Y/N stammers nervously. She mentally palms herself for allowing her nerves to show.

"What could be misunderstood between a betrothed couple?" Chan argues his frustration grows at her behavior.

"Our marriage has not been officiated....we are not husband and wife currently, Your Grace. Therefore, Things can be misunderstood. You would not like if my reputation is ruined any more than it already is, would you?" She questions graciously as she turns to sit at the small loveseat in the center of the room. Chan remains where he stood by the window, his fists clenched at his sides. "Is that why you're reluctant to allow me to be close to you? What others would say?" He questions behind gritted teeth. Y/N can feel the room grow colder as she turns to look at Chan. His jaw was clenched as he stared out the window. "People say horrid things about me as it is. i would prefer to not be the topic of gossip." She states softly.

"Our wedding is in 7 days..." Chan states innocently. A pure, excited look on his features as he perks up. Her eyes widen, "Pardon?" her voice squeaks in shock. Chan's eyebrows raise as he approaches the loveseat and rests his hand on your shoulder. "Is a week's time too long?" He questions excitedly. She turns to face him a look of bewilderment on her features. "Your Grace..." Y/N sighs as she stares at her lap "I don't understand...."

"You said you would be worried about what people said about my behavior since we haven't officiated our marriage. I can hold the ceremony tomorrow if you wish." He states with an innocent pout. Who is this man? She wonders to herself. The wedding is supposed to be in a week. What does he mean, he could hold it tomorrow? Why is everything so different? Everything has changed....does that mean I can live? "Your Grace...I believe you have misunderstood me. I said I would be concerned about my reputation due to your behavior since I will not be marrying you" She states boldly. She feels his hand tense on her shoulder. "W-what?" He questions with a stammer.

"I was going to send a letter but since I was able to meet you here, I would like to request that you annual our engagement" She states coldly as she stares forward at the door. Chan feels his heart drop into his stomach. Y/N can feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. It sat quiet for what felt like hours before Chan released her and made his way out of the room without saying a word.

Y/N released the breath that caught in her throat. Relief washes over her as she gains the ability to breathe freely. Taking the opportunity, Y/N rushes out of the room and into the foyer where the workers freeze momentarily. Their eyes burn into her and she remembers their judgmental gazes from before. The way they'd eagerly follow Kari's command and torment her in their own ways. I can't stay here...Just through this door...She willed herself as she continued to run through the front door and onto the front lawn, seeing her carriage just past the gate; she walked quickly toward it. intercepting her mother who was being escorted into it. she avoids her mother's glare as she sits in the seat. Letting out a sigh of relief at her escape, she flinches quickly as her mother's hand connects with her cheek.

Chan's hands shook at his side as he rushed through the corridors. This cannot be true he thinks she has to be lying. Someone had to have said something to her. Chan couldn't process her words even as they continue to replay in his mind.

'I would like to request that you annual our engagement'

The words torment him as he searches profusely for Felix. This isn't right...This can't be possible. She loves me, she has always loved me. Why wouldn't she want to marry me? He rushes down the stairs to the back sunroom, he notices the familiar mop of blonde hair. Felix stood in the garden staring out of the gate as he watched a carriage as it left. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he stood with his hands cupped together behind his back. "Felix!" Chan calls, panicked as he rushes toward his aide. Felix stares at Chan with a look of concern. "What do you remember about the countess from your previous marriage to Lady Y/N?" Felix asks curiously. Chan freezes for a moment, "N-Not much, She died a year or two after our marriage. Y/N didn't go to her funeral..." He explains. Felix sighs, his head resting in his hand. "No...she wasn't permitted to leave at that time..." The blonde mutters quietly. Chan's eyes widen "On whose authority?"

"Yours. Your Grace" Felix snides "It was during your first monster hunting expedition"

"Anyway," Chan waves off his words not wanting to remember his brutish behavior "What about the countess? Has she become unruly?"

"She struck Lady Y/N...." Felix states bewildered "Quite harshly I may add" Chan's blood boils at Felix's words. She what? Chan feels his heart sink in his stomach. Did Y/N get hit often? Is this why she doesn't want to marry me? Chan's jaw clenches as his right hand instinctively reaches for his sword. "What?" He questions. Felix's eyes darken, "My contact in the County informed me it was a normal occurrence. Lady Y/N has endured harsh beatings from the Countess for many years on occasion having many bruises to the point she cannot appear in public" He states with a concerned and guilty tone. Chan's throat tightens, No that can't be true...That means before...

"Your Grace, did you know?"

"How could I have known? Even when we were in my chambers at night, I had to remain distant because of Kari's spies. We wouldn't really talk we'd just--" Chan stops speaking as the memory of their nights together flashes back through his mind. His cheeks turn a bright scarlet at the memory. The nights he was only able to express how he felt through his actions. He could vividly remember how it felt to caress her soft skin as she held onto him for dear life. He could remember her whimpers and the way she'd hold back her moans. Blood rushed to his head as Felix snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Erhm--That aside, Your Grace. If Lady Y/N is not safe even in her familial home, we may have to exert our authority and bring her here sooner." Felix reluctantly suggests. "She'd rather die...That is what she would say I believe...." Chan murmurs. "Your Grace?" Felix questions as he looks at the young future duke's distressed expression. Chan's heart felt heavy if his beloved had to live through a heavy hand and torturous life with her family too; he felt as if his world completely shattered. He should have paid closer attention after they had gotten married. He should have realized the way she always flinched when someone moved too quickly next to her in their previous life. He wished he could kick himself in the throat for the way he treated the woman he loved so deeply. There were only so many times he felt he could brush off his behavior as 'protecting Y/N from his sister' and he knew that. He became a horrible tyrant and treated Y/N as if she were a doll. She deserved more, He knew he could have done better. He should have been better.

Though his heart ached terribly, he could understand why. Her words as she lay dying in front of him repeating through his mind. If I could do it all over again…I'd have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…He couldn't understand, did Felix's magic not work properly. She wasn't supposed to reject marrying him, if anything she should be ecstatic at the idea of him moving their wedding up. "Your Grace?" Felix questions as he places his hand on Chan's shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Apologies, what did you say?"

"Why would Y/N say she'd rather die than come here sooner? Your meeting with her is supposed to be in two days" Felix asks puzzledly. "She requests I annual our engagement..." Chan states dejectedly. Felix looks at him befuddled "That's impossible...." His aide states under his breath. Felix quickly turns away from Chan rushing deeper into the Manor. Chan's eyes widen as he follows behind his aide, He follows Felix toward the Staff's quarters and into the basement where Felix's lab sits. He quickly pulls a large box from a bookshelf and places it on his desk. Letting let out a shaky breath, Felix brought his index and middle to his lips, his eyes closing and soon the box glowed a bright sapphire blue, the top of the box opened and there sat a large glowing purple orb. "Ae-ra...." Felix grits as he clenches his fist. As he grips the side of his desk "That sneaky minx..."

"What? What happened?" Chan questions in confusion. Felix sighs "Ae-ra lied. She said she wouldn't tamper with Lady Y/N's memories, but her magic signature is here." Chan's heart sinks, "No...you said that this would be--Well, My wife seems to have me evenly matched" Felix cuts him off frustratedly. Chan notices the familiar jealousy, from the pair's relationship over the years. The two personal aides are the only connection between Chan and his wife. Chan was not surprised that their petty rivalry soon turned into love and then marriage. It was not a secret that Ae-ra was opposed to Felix turning back time with only the three memories intact. Chan couldn't argue with Y/N's closest confidant at the time. Ae-ra had been there for his beloved when he couldn't, of course, she'd find it wrong to not allow her Lady to have free will and knowledge of her fate.

*First Timeline- Y/N's Death....*

"Please! " Ae-ra cried her eyes widening as Y/N's head rested on her lap. Chan couldn't believe what happened. He sat frozen in shock and despair as Ae-ra continued to shout "Do something!" Her panicked and coarse screams pull Chan out of his daze. He lifted himself from the couch and dropped to his knees, his hands wrapping around his beloved as he lifted her from her maid's lap and held her tight. She stared up at him her eyes almost completely lifeless, "Y/N?!" He calls his voice trembling as he hears a small croak from her lips. He leans in to her trying to listen for any more signs of life. His eyes widen as he feels her torso tighten for a moment before he feels a warm liquid on his cheek. Ae-ra stares at him wide-eyed, their eyes connect for a moment before Ae-ra extends her handkerchief to him before she lifts herself from the floor and rushes out of the room toward the knights "Someone help me please?!" she screams as she disappears.

Chan can feel the eyes of the maids on him as he holds Y/n's lifeless body against him. His eyes darken as he looks at his staff "Why are you just sitting there?!" He growls. Felix's deep voice booms as he orders the maids to clean and find a doctor for the Dutchess. Chan sat frozen as he held Y/N close to him. Tears build in his eyes as he silently pleads to Y/N. Please…I'm begging you, Open your eyes! His body aches as his regrets fill him. "Felix, Get the maid that did this. I don't see her" Chan demands in a panic. Felix nods with a serious expression, and with a snap of his fingers, he disappears leaving a trail of blue smoke in his wake. Chan didn't expect any of this when he returned home. He pleaded with God to make him wake up from this horrible dream. It felt like hours before Ae-ra returned and Chan was forcibly taken away to be cleaned and have Y/N treated. But he knew...though he wanted to deny it. His beloved was gone, She died believing he didn't love her.....

That he wished she was gone.......

He cried harshly as he sat outside of Y/N's room. The doctor was pale as he explained that Y/N was no longer alive. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe, How could this be? How could God be this cruel? I was so close, so close to having her protection guaranteed. I was so close to fixing everything and spending the rest of my life making up for my mistakes. How could she just be gone? Why didn't he just stay with her? He quickly rushed into the room, shouting for the staff to leave. His eyes were bloodshot and his face stained with tears as he rushed beside her body. If he didn't know any better, he'd believe she was just sleeping. His hand hesitantly reached out for hers, grasping it for dear life. His sobs leave him trembling as he feels his legs turn to jelly before he drops to his knees. His free hand caresses her head as he cries.

"I-I'm so sorry....." His voice is trembling as his grip grows tighter on her hand "Honey....I'm sorry. P-Please....w-wake up...Honey...I was wrong. I did wrong and I'm so sorry so please--just open your eyes. Y-you can scold me for being mean l-like w-when we were kids....I-I deserve it. I was so mean for so long so please just scold me or hit me or something, please. Please tell me I'm not too late. Honey, j-just s-say my name one more time? P-please? Y-you c-can't j-just leave me behind without doing that right? Please j-just open your eyes and say C-Channie....Y/N..."

Ae-ra felt empty as she tried to maintain her professionalism. She stood beside her mistress with a heavy heart. Mentally, she was in almost as much denial as the Duke. She held herself together with the thought that her mistress was just asleep, but she knew the truth. No matter how much healing magic or potions she used, Her Grace was not waking up from this slumber. She knew, there were going to be questions. Eyes were going to be on her, she was the closest person to the Dutchess. The only person with unlimited access, she was lucky to not have been hauled off the moment the doctor had declared her mistress passing. She struggled to hold back tears as the Duke cried over his lost love. Her heart ached for the couple, knowing how hard their circumstances and the Duke's negligence had been for her lady. Ae-ra feels she could make peace if the Duke suffers for the rest of his days. Though she knew it was wrong, She wished the Duke to endure the suffering her mistress had been through in the 10 years of their marriage, She hoped he would die feeling alone and unloved, just like her mistress. These things that could never be voiced out loud, Ae-ra held her breath and tears hoping time would pass quickly and she would be dismissed to her room shortly. Feeling her emotions boiling over, she sighs hopelessly.

Chan's head perks up at the sound of someone sighing. He notices Y/N's maid, Ae-ra, standing on the other side of the bed. He stares at the maid with sad guilt-ridden eyes. A mournful pout on his lips as he looks at Ae-ra feeling remorseful as he notices her struggling to hold herself together. "Ae-ra...." He sighs, and the maid stares at him with worried eyes. "Y-Your Grace, Do you need something?" She asks trying to mask her grief.

"Y/N loved you," Chan states his voice soft and comforting. "You shouldn't be here right now. You should rest." Ae-ra shakes her head rapidly. "I-I will be beside Her Grace until her body is with god as well....I-if that is permitted, Your Grace." She states hesitantly. "A-and I need to be near for the investigation" Chan furrows his eyebrows. "Investigation?"

Ae-ra nods nervously "Yes, Your Grace..."

"Into you?"

"Yes, Your Grace"

"Ae-ra, You were the Dutchess' closest aide. You cared for her passionately and worked hard under her. You are the last person I would investigate in this matter. Go rest, Y/N would want you to rest." He states sullenly. Ae-ra stares at the Duke with a glum expression. "Your Grace?" Chan looks at the maid with a grief-stricken pout. "Her Grace had requested me not to inform you but considering....The Young Lady of the Manor has requested for the knights to refrain from attending their posts here at the annex. Perhaps whoever had done this knew about the minimal security." Ae-ra suggested her voice just above a whisper, hoping the Duke understood her intention and turned his attention toward his sister. "Kari will be dealt with if that's what you're concerning yourself with," Chan states darkly as his eyes glaze over with murderous intent. Ae-ra nods, not saying anything else as she bows to her employer before exiting the room. As she closes the door behind her, tears build in her eyes as she loses feeling in her legs and collapses to the ground in a puddle of tears.

*First Timeline- One Week After Y/N's Death*

"If I could do it all over again…I'd have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…"

Those words have replayed in Chan's mind for hours now. The way her voice gurgled as she choked on her blood. He felt sick as he remembered her voice in her final moments. Why did he have to be here? Who was brave enough to help Kari go through with this? His mind raced as his heart ached uncontrollably. "My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…" He hated to admit it, but under those circumstances, he regretted it too. He wasn't the husband he should have been. He was negligent, he should have done more. He should have realized the fear she had to have had with how ruthless his sister could be. He never expected this though.

The reality of her absence is already becoming too much to bear. He couldn't understand what happened. How could she have been poisoned? He had been right there, staring at her. He was looking at her, he should have noticed the way she coughed. How hard it was for her to speak after she had drank her tea. When the blood flowed out of her mouth, he couldn't move due to his shock. Not even 10 minutes with her and now there's no more time. She's gone.....How could she be gone?

He hears a small panicked yelp as the door slams open forcefully, Chan's eyes finally leaving his beloved's portrait. He sees Felix standing there, his face stoic as the maid that had given Y/N her tea kneeled with her back to his aide as Felix's hand grips her hair harshly. "This is the rodent that has caused the commotion today" Felix states coldly, Chan lifts him from the ground as he stares at the maid. Her face is so prominently familiar in his mind, that he can't help but let out a mad laugh at the nerve of his temperamental sister. He takes slow predatory steps toward the maid, who looks up at him with fearful eyes. Felix's blood boils at her impertinence "You dare raise your head with all you've done!?" A bright sapphire light emanates from the mage as he forces the maid to the ground with a snap of his fingers, metal cuffs encase the maid's hands and ankles; pinning her to the ground. The maid trembles fearfully "Y-Your G-Grace, H-Have mercy...." she pleads tearfully as Felix snaps his fingers again and a large sapphire chain erupts from the ground encasing the maid's neck.

"Mercy!?" Felix growls as the chains begin to slowly tighten around the woman's neck. Chan chuckles darkly as he leans forward gripping the maid by her bun in the back of her head pulling her closer as he stares into her eyes. His eyes glow a bright scarlet "Did you grant Y/N such a courtesy?"

The maid gasps not expecting the question. "I-I....uhm"

"Fine. Tell me who ordered you to give the tea to the Dutchess?" Chan questions "If it proves to be useful, I shall grant mercy" The maid's eyes widen, the cogs in her head turning. Chan knows no matter her tenure as Kari's aide for all these years, the life of this commoner mattered more to her than her loyalties to his sister. "T-The h-head maid...S-she said the Lady had requested tea...Y-your Grace, I-I didn't know. Please, Your Grace, forgive me for this oversight" The brunette stammered. Felix and Chan's eyes connect for a moment, their silent communication clear. Chan nods to the mage, who releases the maid's bonds. She breathes a sigh of relief, placing her forehead on the ground. A small chuckle is released from her throat as she looks up at Chan. "T-Thank you, Your Gr--" Her words are cut off as Chan plunges a dagger through her throat. The maid gags as she stares at Chan wide-eyed. Blood fills her mouth as she begins gagging and breathing in her blood. Her pleads are covered by gurgles.

"Now you know, such oversites cannot be forgiven.....Dog." Chan states coldly as he twists the dagger roughly and kicks her off the blade by her shoulder. Felix stares at the body with dark cold eyes. "Lady Kari seems to have been taking advantage of your absence, Your Grace. Shall I finish this?" Felix questions gesturing toward the maid who was gurgling and gasping for air on the ground. His eyes glowed a bright sapphire.

"Did the Dutchess have such mercy?" Chan questions darkly as he takes one of Y/N's handkerchiefs from his lapel wiping the blood from his hands as he kneels over the maid. "They deserve to know the suffering they put my wife through until her final moments" Chan states. Felix smirks darkly at his master before nodding and walking toward the door.

"Wait," Chan calls as he stares at the maid continue to gurgle and gag, her body trembling as she struggles to breathe due to the blood continuously going into her windpipe. Felix halts his movements turning toward Chan. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"When harm is done to one's pet, it is proper etiquette to return the corpse and inform the owner, yes?" Chan states with a mischievous smirk as he walks toward the window he notices his sister sitting in the garden, her maids beside her as they enjoy tea. "And Kari seems so possessive of those dogs of hers. It would only be right" He finishes as he clenches his fist. Felix nods in understanding before he pulls a seal out from his inline pocket and places it on the dying maid's body, lifting his index and middle finger in front of his lips he closes his eyes as the sapphire light glows brightly and the pair disappear.

Chan feels his blood boiling as he watches his sister laughing with her parasitic friends. How dare she?! He knew his sister's temper could be considered tyrannical. She rarely allowed even her closest maids to make a mistake, yet Chan thought as long as he could keep a distance from Y/N, she'd be safe from his sister's wrath at not becoming the heir. A smirk formed on his lips as Felix's blue sapphire light shined over the table and Kari's personal maid's corpse lay in the middle of it. The noble women begin panicking scurrying away from the blood-soaked table like roaches, their fearful screams echoing through the garden. But Chan kept his eyes firmly on Kari, who sat bewildered at the head of the table as Felix politely bowed to her and transported away after a brief exchange. He watched as Kari glared at the corpse in utter shock and disbelief. Knowing his actions ignited a fire in Kari, Chan felt thrilled.

"Well, sister, you wanted to be the Dutchess so bad.....I'll be sure you know exactly how My Dutchess felt."

Flashback: One month after Y/N's Death

“Let me go! Do you not know your place?!” Kari growled as Felix continued to stand stone-faced. He sighed before continuing to bring Kari to his Master's office. Kari fumes as she continues to struggle with her hands tied behind her back with Felix's magic. Felix opens the door, Chan's seated at the center of the room. Aera stood beside him, placing a cup of tea in front of him. "Unhand me!" Kari growls as Felix sits her in front of Chan's desk. "What is the meaning of this?" Kari snaps at her brother. Chan gestures for Felix to release Kari's hands.

"My apologies, my dear sister but You have been refusing to see me for a long time" Chan states with a faux sincerity. "I had to take such measures to see my precious sister, it's made me wonder" His eyes darken as he stares at the brunette. "Have you been avoiding me? One would think, you've done something wrong....." He raises his eyebrow in amusement.

Kari stares at him blankly "I've chosen to undertake a vow of silence.." She states as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Shall I send a letter to the convent then?" Chan retorts smugly. Aera places a cup of tea in front of Kari. "I must thank you for your concern but please graciously accept my apologies... I'm in mourning I've lost two dear maids of mine" Kari smirks as she watches Aera closely.

Chan notices the subtly purple aura growing around the maid, and he taps on his desk twice, a signal to Aera to stand down. Kari stares daggers at the maid. Mumbling something inaudible under her breath; Kari stares down at the cup, her nerves slightly making her hands tremble. Chan knew, his sister's fear of retaliation made her guilt evident. Kari sighs before taking a hesitant sip. It was her! She was the mastermind, there was no doubt in his mind that the sister he held so dear through the years, had murdered the woman that he loved. His blood ran cold at his sister's nonchalance, he knew she had a brother complex and she felt a form of jealousy when she noticed his closeness to his fiance. How he wished he had chosen Y/N, and realized Kari's tyranny sooner. How could he let 10 years go by without taking his beloved in his arms a single time and telling her how much he loved her? and now, because of the girl in front of him vying for his position as the head of the family, Y/N was gone.

Chan had Aera and Felix preserve her body for as long as they could, but their magic was fading, and Y/N had begun to decay in her bed. He was at his wit's end, though the foolish maid had been dealt with, no commoner would make such a brazen move in front of a Duke without the backing of a powerful noble. The head maid had escaped the Dutchy before Chan could reach her as well, His frustration grew as time passed and he was unable to punish those he deemed responsible for his wife's mistreatment and subsequent death. Though he knew who was the true one responsible...It was his fault. His lack of awareness of his sister's brazen and bold temperament, his choice to spend more time at war and on expeditions, pushing her away.

He was the one truly responsible for his beloved's death. Though Kari was the one who signed her death warrant, He's the reason Kari did not know her place. Why her ambitions went further than they should have. But the longer he stared at her smug smirk as she crossed her arms and glared at him; the more he could feel his hand slowly inching toward his sword sitting on his hip. "Why did you have this brutish mage bring me here? I am supposed to go to the imperial palace the second princess is hosting the book club." Kari whines a small pout on her innocent-looking face.

"Nightshade is quite the flower isn't it?" Chan questions softly.

Kari looks at him with confusion "You've brought me here to discuss flowers? Brother, shall I have someone retrieve the doctor?" Chan smirks mischievously as his eyes darken "Did you forget who was your instructor on poisons? You seem to be quite proud to boast about your garden with many flowers to your friends, belladonna being your favorite correct? Y/N was killed by such a plant..." he states monotonously he pulls his sword from its holster pointing it directly at Kari's neck with a small flick of his wrist a small cut forms in the center.

"B-brother, The dutchess crossed the line too many times to be forgiven. she was weak, she was not fit to be by your side, but I would n-never!" Kari stammered in utter shock. Chan scanned his sister up and down for a moment, he knew she was lying. He knows it is her, but he has no evidence at this moment. The Crown Princess may support him, but not for unjustifiable homicide. Resisting the urge to swiftly remove Kari's head from her shoulders, he brings his sword back into its holster. He stares at Kari menacingly "If I learn otherwise...You will become permanently acquainted with my sword."

With her eyes wide and pleading Kari stares up at him "You jest..." she states in disbelief as her heart sinks into her stomach. "I do not....Orchestrating the murder of the Dutchess is punishable by death by order of the Emperor, as his most loyal vassal and valent knight I must hold his word true." He challenges her as he takes her chin between his forefinger and thumb. "I look forward to the day you admonish yourself, sister" He states the relationship almost like a taunt as he stands above her, a smug smirk on his lips as he grows giddy at the thought of plunging his dagger right into her petite throat. He finds the strength in him to hold back, lest he massacre the whole Manor.

Kari looks furious at his words "Does the crown mean more to you than your blood, brother? The Dutchy stood long before this Emperor's reign and shall stand tall long after his line is gone, his word is no more than a mere fallacy."

"You will do your best to mind your tongue...That is the ruler of this Empire and I will not be considered treasonous due to your insolence! And just remember, sister, that it is that very blood that courses through your veins that protects you from my sword at this moment" He snaps at her. Kari stares at him her anger evident in her expression as she straightens her back. "And you will do your best to remember I am not one to be challenged" Her voice laced with a warning "The most beautiful things in this world are also the most lethal, for it is their beauty that lulls you into a sense of security, Brother" her eyebrow raised as Chan feels his gut bubble in amusement as he imagines himself running his dagger over his sister's cheek and removing that beauty she spoke of.

"What is a beauty without their embellishments?" He questions as he rests on his chin. "Many in this world learn too late, their place. I should surely hope with the way you've been raised, it will not be too late when you learn yours. For what are you without the Bang family name but a pretty face? I hope for your friend's sake you do not forget this fact." He states as he raises his eyebrow challenging her to speak against him. When she sits quietly he continues his anger growing as each word spews from his lips " You are well past the age for you to have been married. You do not spend your days like a proper noblewoman yet speak like your place is anywhere but at the convent...You wished to be the heir yet never married and birthed an heir to the family line. You spend your days drinking tea as you gossip with your friends, and you have the gall to discuss our Emperor? Sister, I've protected you and sacrificed everything I had for you but you refuse to become anything but a disappointment. I should surely hope a month in the rose annex shall help you understand your wrongdoings......"

"No!" Kari argues as knights make their way over to her. "You cannot do this to me! I've done nothing wrong." Her face was red with rage as she tried to avoid the knights' grasp but she could not fight against their strength and speed.

"You will regret this!" Kari exclaims as she is dragged out of the office with a flurry of curses. Chan lets out a heavy sigh as silence falls over the room. He reaches for a small cup on his desk, slightly tilting it to its side he pulls out Y/N's wedding ring. Staring at the object his heart breaks once again. How could he have lost her? How could he go on without her? He feels his breathing grow heavier. He needed to return to her. He hated every moment he had to step out of that room. He felt like he couldn't breathe if he wasn't by her side. He couldn't understand how terribly it ached every time he crossed that threshold.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, pulling him from sinking deeper and deeper into despair. His eyes trail up the petite hand and he sees Aera's comforting yet grieving smile beaming back at him and a small purple glow emanates from her hand. A warmth fills his body and he feels his heart relax. "Thank you, Aera. Truly you have been a wonderful help" He gives her a gentle nod, signaling that he's okay.

"It is my duty, My lord" Aera states formally as she bows.

"Your husband being a stickler about the rules again?" Chan jokes to her trying to lighten the mood and Aera nods in response. "Behave the way you did with the Dutchess, if she acknowledged your competence then your husband should too. You are doing his work for him...." Aera nods as she bows. "I shall bring you tea in the Dutchess' room, Your Grace."

Chan gives her a soft smile "That sounds wonderful"

*Flashback-Later that day*

Aera walked calmly toward the Dutchess room in the Main House. She felt her heartache as she knew Y/N never got to experience what her husband truly wished for her. Her heartbroken for the Duke, so much so that she used her magic to delay Her Grace's decomposition for at least a year after she had tried to heal her and it had come to light that The Dutchess' body could be preserved. The Duke had gone mad and spent his days laying and reading to her corpse. She felt sorry for the Dutchess, she may never be fully rested, and pity for the Duke who loved his wife so dearly that he could not part with her after he had finally secured his position as the Duke and could no longer be challenged as the head of the Dutchy.

Aera approached the large double doors and gestured for the Knight to knock when she heard familiar voices. "Your Grace, It will not fail. We can save her...I can save her" Her husband's voice rang out. Aera's heart sunk into her chest. That fool she thinks to herself as she gestures for the knight to open the door. "What do you think you are saying, Felix?" Aera questions worriedly as she places the tray with the teapot on the small table in front of the Duke. "You are not suggesting that spell to His Grace correct?" Aera raises her eyebrow at her husband, "I can do it! she will not be harmed..." Felix argues.

"And what of her memories? The spell is not perfect and if you are going to turn back time then you need to allow her to remember what has happened to her!" Aera counters and Chan holds his hand up "Silence...." The pair turn toward the Duke and bow apologetically. Chan sighs "Felix will do the spell."

"Turning time back does not mean she will be safe, Your Grace. This can save her for a short while. The gods will not take this chance to save one life without another when the time comes" Felix warns.

"Then it shall be my own life or my sister's life as long as my wife gets to live the gods can burn the Dutchy with an inferno so bright that they form hell on earth. But Y/N lives...." He states definitively. Aera's face scrunched in opposition. "The Dutchess deserves her memories, do not deceive her. My loyalty shall only go far, Your Grace." She states coldly. "My Love....please, the memory of her own death may be too much to bear" Felix pleads as he caresses her cheek. "I just wish to give you, your purpose back. Your life, Her life....allow me to do this and help her be happy"

Aera looks away from him for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

*Present-2nd Timeline*

"What does this mean?" Chan questions worriedly as he grasps Felix's shoulders. Felix puts his hands up, trying to calm Chan down but knowing that Y/N having her memories is the last thing the Duke wanted. "Y-Your Grace...." Felix stammers nervously trying to find the easiest way to give him this news. Realization dawns on him, he feels his blood run cold as he stumbles back into a chair. His forehead rests on his palm as he lays his hand on the potion bench. "She has her memories...." He scoffs out in disbelief, as her behavior slowly becomes more and more understandable.

How could she want to marry the man who ignored her in her previous life? The man she believed was responsible for her death...

His chest ached as he felt his stomach bubble with nausea. She despises him...He was such a fool. The gods had to punish him for what he had done to her. Though it was Aera's interference and morality, He knew this was the way the gods were telling him that he needed to let Y/N go. His family had tortured her enough in their previous life when he was fighting to keep Kari's influence at bay, he used her for his own desires when it was convenient for himself, and He allowed Kari to grab hold of the Dutchy while he was away which ultimately lead to her death but how could he just let her go?

How could he give in to her wishes and call off their engagement? The notion seemed so foreign to him, removing her from his heart. He'd yearned for her for over 10 years in their previous life and hoped for a lover relationship in this one. What should he do to keep her at his side after all he's done just to bring her back to life? Over two months of collecting ingredients and brewing potions to keep his memories and Aera does it to Y/N with a wave of her hand. What more could be done?

His eyes darken as he continues to fall deeper and deeper into turmoil. He feels his anger slowly turning into possessive madness as he continues to allow his mind to wander. His title as the future Duke could be used. He tried to rack his brain to think of something--anything to keep her by his side. Moving the wedding up and locking her away seemed to be growing more and more appealing. How radiant she would look whilst locked in the very room he'd spent with her before he turned back time. Perhaps, he should relinquish his title and take her to the countryside estate and live out their days in secrecy. He felt himself growing less and less concerned with how she'd feel. How much she'd oppose being kept in a cage like a bird under his watchful eye. But what else could he do? Even if she grew to hate him.

"I'd never let you go, Y/N"

Taglist: @yangbbokari @lovesunshinefelix @oddracha @lizzetmv @msauthor @azazelstays @rylea08 @skzfelixlove @blondechannie e @moonchildlv @kibs-and-bits @5starlee @jstbrowsing0 @solandiszale le @pnutbutter-n-j-elyy @lizzetmv @hwanriri

#skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #skz chan angst #skz chan imagines #skz chan scenarios #chan angst #chan fluff

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laylasredemption · 1 month

Text

Wtf so I now can post long fics? Well, thanks Tumblr I guess the beef between us didn't last long. Here's the sad Arthur fic I wrote, hope you like it guys<3

arthur morgan x dutch's daughter!reader 3,9k words chapter 6 spoilers, death, violence

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Until the last breath

Never in a thousand years would have Dutch van der Linde thought his own daughter would betray him. He would suspect anyone - recently even John or Arthur. But not [Y/n]. She was his daughter, his only child, the only thing he had left of Annabelle.

And yet there she stood - a gun in hand, pointed at her father, who had his own guns pointed at Arthur and John.

"You're on these two rats' side? That's what I get for raising you?" Dutch asked, his angry gaze fixated on his daughter. "You ungrateful brat."

"You didn't raise me!" [Y/n] countered. "Hosea was more of a father than you. To you, money has always been more important. You always had a plan to get more, and more, and more. I'd be in Tahiti if I had a dollar for every plan of yours that didn't work out."

"I gave you everything I could!"

"You gave me everything?" She had to stop herself from scoffing. "I spent my whole life trying to make you happy for once. Trying to make you proud of me. I gave my heart and my soul for this gang, and you ruined it all when you took in this rat!" Her voice started to crack, but she forced tears away. She reached for her other gun and pointed it at Micah.

Dutch asked, "You really think Micah is the reason you're turning on me?" His tone was strangely calm, too calm. "You think I never noticed the way you and Arthur were plotting something behind my back? But, of course, he didn't sneak into your tent at night just to plot. You disgust me, [Y/n]."

[Y/n]'s mouth fell slightly open as she attempted to form a sentence, and yet she wasn't able to. How did he find out? She thought her and Arthur had been sneaky enough.

"You lost your mind, Dutch," Arthur spoke up, "we were worried about you."

Dutch turned his eyes to Arthur, his anger growing at the man's comment. "I'm the one who gave all of you a home! A purpose! A damn family! And you had the nerve to get with my daughter behind my back, and turn her against me."

"All these years, Dutch..." Arthur shook his head. "Just to waste it for this snake?"

"Be quiet, Black Lung." Micah said, his gun pointed at Arthur.

"No," miss Grimshaw appeared with her rifle pointed at Micah, "you be quiet, mister Bell. And put that gun down."

It escalated in a moment. Micah pulled the trigger, sending a bullet towards miss Grimshaw. He took the last remaining mother figure [Y/n] had. Miss Grimshaw was a cold woman, but she cared for her, she cared for all the girls. And now she was dead.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

"Pinkertons are coming!" Javier ran up to the group, warning them.

"Now," Dutch spoke way too calmly for [Y/n]'s liking, "who amongst you is with me, and who is betraying me?"

"Bill, Javier, think for yourselves." Arthur spoke, but they didn't listen.

The both of them were too blinded by the doomed loyalty to Dutch. They sided with him, while Arthur was left with just [Y/n] and John. Besides them, there was also Micah and his own friends he had brought to the gang recently. They were outnumbered.

"My own flesh and blood has turned against me." Dutch concluded in a cold voice [Y/n] hadn't heard before. He had never been a good father, but now... his transformation was complete. The man who had once been a leader, had been replaced by a ghost of himself, driven by greed and paranoia

"You brought it upon yourself." [Y/n] spat.

Micah sneered, "And here I was thinking blood runs thicker than water. Seems a good fuck can change a lady's mind so easily. Wouldn't suspect that of cowpoke, but seems this day is full of surprises."

[Y/n] winced at Micah's remark. She wanted nothing more than to shoot him then and there.

And she tried to. But her hands were trembling with anger, and she missed.

"Put your guns down!" An unknown voice yelled out.

The pinkertons. They ran into the camp, or whatever was left of it, and started shooting. The Pinkertons had arrived, their shouts and gunfire piercing through the madness. The world started to crash down. [Y/n], Arthur, and John found places to use as a cover. The girl didn't even care what would happen with her father now. She had to focus on the pinkertons.

After a few minutes, when the trio knew they won't get out of it this way, John called out, "[Y/n], Arthur, into the caves!"

They didn't think twice before running inside the cave, following the gloomy and scary passages. The pinkertons ran after them and [Y/n] hoped John was leading them to some second entrance. They couldn't afford hitting a dead end.

"Micah was a rat, Milton told me." Arthur confessed as they kept running.

"We should've let him rot in that jail in Strawberry." [Y/n] thought out loud.

There was a ladder, leading them upwards. And another one, and a third one. As the surroundings started to become lighter with the outside's air, [Y/n] thought they might be getting out of that cave before the pinkertons get them.

"John," Arthur turned to his friend when the trio reached fresh air finally, "Abigail is safe, Jack too. They're with Sadie." Then he turned to [Y/n], and tried to stop a cough before speaking to her, "You, [Y/n], I want you to go and–"

"Go where?" The girl interrupted him. "Go and do what?"

"We have to separate here. John and I will go this way, you'll go join Sadie."

In the meantime, John called for their horses. Except that [Y/n]'s didn't come, which could only mean one thing.

"They killed her..." [Y/n] mused, and for a moment she couldn't fight the urge to cry. A few tears had escaped. "Now I have to go with you."

But, again, there was no more time to think. They mounted their horses, Arthur insisting [Y/n] rides with John in case they had to go separate ways. She didn't mount John's horse, she sat on the back of Arthur's. She knew that he knew there was no time to argue.

And they ran again. Ran, followed by the bullets shot by Dutch, Micah, Bill, Javier, and those men Micah brought to the gang. Dutch van der Linde was many things, and he never played the role of the father well, but even now [Y/n] was shocked to see him chasing after them, not afraid of the risk to shoot his own daughter.

When they escaped them, they kept running into the pinkertons. They seemed to be everywhere, as if they knew their next moves.

The trio tried to escape running up a mountain, but they were stopped. [Y/n] saw John falling off his horse, and no sooner the same happened to herself and Arthur.

"Buell!" The girl called out, seeing the animal lying on the ground with a bullet wound. "These motherf–"

They had to shoot now. There was no way out if they didn't kill all those pinkertons. And, fueled by the rage, [Y/n] felt as if she could shoot them all by herself. Hell, she would gladly choke all of them with her bare hands if she got the chance.

"Come on!" John called out after they have dealt with pinkertons. He knew this wouldn't last long.

[Y/n] ran up to Arthur, who was kneeling next to Buell, gently petting the horse's mane. The girl didn't even get to be with her mare when she got killed, so she had to be at least with Buell.

"Let's go!" John repeated.

"Give us a moment!" Arthur shouted back.

[Y/n] touched the horse gently and Arthur leaned over his head. This was such a heartbreaking thing to witness. Arthur received this horse from a man who had lost his leg in the war. Found him randomly in the woods, when the horse bucked him off and his leg got stuck in a stirrup. Arthur helped him and became friends, visiting from time to time. They went hunting once, and the veteran got attacked by a giant boar. With his last breath, he asked Arthur to take care of Buell. And Arthur did, until the horse's last breath, too.

With one last final, "Thank you," that Arthur whispered to Buell, they were ready to run further.

"Let's go." John said for the third time.

Arthur asked, "What about the money?"

"Money?" [Y/n] sobbed, wiping away a few last tears. "What about Micah? We have to get rid of him."

"I go down there, I'm dead in five minutes," John stated, "I have a family, that's more important."

"You're right," Arthur admitted, thinking John must be making sense for the first time in his life, "[Y/n], you go with John. I'm going back for the money."

"No, you're not." The girl protested firmly. She wasn't losing Arthur, not like that. "We go together or we don't go at all."

Arthur knew it was pointless to argue with [Y/n]. If she inherited anything from Dutch, it was the subborness.

Arthur also knew that he didn't have much longer left. He was actively dying from tuberculosis that he hasn't even told [Y/n] about yet. If soon he was going to take his last breath, he wanted [Y/n] to go, not see him like this. He had always been a tough man, he couldn't let the girl he loved more than anything in the world see him die beaten by a stupid illness. "Fine, let's go." He muttered and the trio started once again running. He had no idea how to get out of this. There was no way out for him, but he still could help [Y/n] and John.

They needed to find a higher ground, running up a mointain. It was very steep, they had to be careful. At least they knew they were safe from the bullets, for now. The pinkertons would come back to the cave, as Micah most likely told them about the money hidden inside.

"Keep, pushing, Arthur!" John said.

Arthur stopped running. He stood bent slightly, propping his arms on his knees. It seemed to [Y/n] like he has difficulty to take a breath. An expression of worry grew on her face. She knew he had some kind of sickness, but she didn't realize how serious it was until this moment.

"Arthur, let's go, we've made it so far." She said, the tears threatening to appear in her eyes once again.

"I think I've pushed all I can." Arthur admitted, coughing out some blood. He straightened his posture, being able to breathe a bit better momentarily.

John walked up to him, "We ain't got time for this."

"We ain't all gonna make it."

His words hit [Y/n] worse than any bullets. She ran up to Arthur, grabbing his arm, trying to make him step forward.

"Don't talk nonsense," she tried to pull him, but even in this state he was still stronger than her, "Arthur, I'm not going anywhere without you."

"You both go." Arthur insisted. "I'll hold them off. There ain't no more time to talk." With these words, he reached for his sachel and handed it over to John. Then, he took his hat off and placed it on [Y/n]'s head.

She knew what that mean. She knew Arthur was prepared to die. But she couldn't let him. She couldn't imagine a life without him. He truly was the love of her life, how was she supposed to keep going if he died on that mountain?

Arthur turned to [Y/n], his eyes softening as he took her face in his hands. "You need to keep going, no matter what happens. You understand?"

[Y/n] shook her head, tears welling up again. "Don't talk like that, Arthur. We're getting out of this. All three of us."

But Arthur knew better. He could feel the life slipping away from him with every breath, every step. "I need you to promise me something, [Y/n]."

"No, Arthur, no." She closed her eyes, hoping this would at least stop the tears.

"Look at me," Arthur said, gently placing his thumb on her chin and tilting her head up, "look at me, doll."

She slowly did as she was told, opening her eyes to meet his. Her heart was racing, knowing that these might be the last moments they have together. His gaze was full of love, as if in these seconds he wanted to love her for all the time he won't be able to in the future.

"You've been the light in my life, the good in me." Arthur told her.

"You've been my everything." She whispered, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak.

"You get out of here with John. When I'm gone, you'll find a good man, one that'll give you the life you deserve. You're young, you can start a family, forget about me. I don't know what I did to deserve your love, but it's the time you bless someone worthy with it."

[Y/n] shook her head, her hands gripping Arthur's coat as if she could somehow anchor him to this world, keep him from fading away. "I'll never forget you. You're the love of my life."

"You deserve so much more than this life, [Y/n]. More than what I could ever give you. But you can still have it. You can still have everything you want, a future, a family, happiness."

But [Y/n] was stubborn, as always. "There's no future if you're not in it."

For a moment, Arthur looked as though he might break, as though he might give in to the desire to stay with her, to fight for a few more moments together. She tried to kiss him, and it took all the strenght his ill body had to stop her.

"I love you, [Y/n]," sounded his final words, "I love you more than anything in this world. But you have to go. For me. I'll love you till my last breath."

"And I'll love you until mine," that was the only thing she could promise him, "I'll never forget you."

The sound of gunshots echoed nearby, and the trio knew there was no more time. [Y/n] would trade anything to have a few more minutes with Arthur. She would walk down to Hell to speak to the Devil himself if he could grant her a bit more time.

John grabbed [Y/n], as much as it pained him, he had to drag her away. They had to run. That's what Arthur wanted.

As she was being dragged away, [Y/n] watched Arthur climb, trying to reach an even higher spot of the mountain.

"Arthur is doing this so you can live. Don't let it be for nothing." John said.

[Y/n] didn't reply. They had to make an escape, and they did so in silence, but the girl didn't even feel her own legs, she just trusted they were there. There was no life for her if Arthur died. This life had been all she knew. How she was supposed to live without the gang, and without him?

"John." She said firmly, somehow finding the strenght in herself to not cry anymore. "I'm going back there."

[Y/n] had been hit by the realization that she doesn't have anything to lose. Everything she had, she already either sacrificed or lost. Her mother, the gang, her father, her horse, and now Arthur, her Arthur.

John stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face [Y/n]. "No, you ain't."

"I ain't got nothing to lose. Either I'll be dragging his dead body to the pearly gates and bribing the God to revive him, or I'll die there with him."

John looked into her eyes just to see fire in them. He understood her love for Arthur and her desperation to save him, and maybe he would have even done the same for Abigail. Except it was plain stupid to do such thing for a man, who was already dying.

"Damn it," John muttered, knowing he can't stop her, "you're as brave as you're stupid. The both of you."

[Y/n] took off Arthur's hat that he had given her, and passed it to John. "You're the best brother I could've had. When I die, I'll look up at you and expect to see you treating Jack and Abigail well. No more running away."

"You mean look down." He corrected her.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to Hell. And I'll be waiting for you, just wait at least fifty years." She chuckled and pulled John in for a quick hug. When they pulled away, she could see tears in his eyes. But [Y/n] wasn't going to cry, not anymore.

She had no reason to cry now. Her time was over. If Arthur was going to die, she was dying there with him, and she was ready for this. More ready than for a future without him.

"Take care of your family," [Y/n]'s last words for John sounded, "make sure they get the life they deserve. Make sure you get that life, too." And with that, she turned away and walked back to where Arthur was supposed to be.

John nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He knew he would carry this moment with him for the rest of his life. The night he had lost the two people who were like siblings to him. He had lost much more, but it didn't matter.

[Y/n] had nothing left to lose, nothing left to live for but this one last act of love. If she could save Arthur, it would be worth it. And if she couldn't... then at least they would die together, side by side, as they should have lived.

There were no more gunshots to follow, not a sound of any fight. [Y/n] climed up the rocks, finding the path where she had last seen Arthur. She saw someone walking her way, not someone who she yearned to see.

"You goddamn rat!" [Y/n] yelled as she grabbed Micah by his coat. She didn't know where she found this strenght in her body, but she managed to throw him such a powerful punch in the face that he had to take a few steps back, almost falling off a cliff.

"You just won't give up, will you?" He said, his usual malice still audible in his voice.

"Did you kill him?" She asked, pointing her gun at him.

"He's alive. Not for much longer though."

[Y/n] clenched her jaw, her grip on the gun tightening so hard her knuckles went white. She felt her anger building up inside her, threatening to explode at any moment. "I should've put a bullet in your head a long time ago."

"Come on, do it now then," he laughed, the sound getting into [Y/n]'s head as she contemplated the decision, "we both know you're too soft to do it. How can such a failure be Dutch's daughter? I bet your mama wasn't the most loyal to your daddy."

That was it, her breaking point. [Y/n] knew putting a bullet in Micah wouldn't fix what was already broken, but at least she could stop any further damage he would cause if he stayed alive.

[Y/n] pulled the trigger, aiming for Micah's head, right between his eyes. His body fell down the cliff, and [Y/n] watched that happen. She felt absolutely nothing. No remose. But also no ease. Not until she could see Arthur.

She ran towards where Micah came from. She found Arthur lying down, his upper body propped on a rock. His face was turned towards the east, looking at the sunrise, even though he had always loved the sunset.

"Arthur..." She said.

His eyes searched for the source of the sound, Arthur thought he was having hallucinations. He forced a smile on his beaten face when he saw her.

"You damn fool, [Y/n]." He said in a weak, raspy voice. Not the kind of rasp [Y/n] loved to hear in the mornings, but the one that emphasized Arthur's condition. "I told you to go with John."

"I couldn't leave you, Arthur." She said, losing all her power to not cry. She knelt down beside him, looking at his injuries. His face was full of little cuts and bruises, some blood. But he didn't seem to have gotten shot.

Tears shone in her eyes. And she must have been the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever laid his eyes on. The way the orange morning sunrays touched her face made Arthur feel butterflies in his stomach. It was way nicer to die when he had this sight in front of him. But it wasn't fair to her.

"Doll," he breathed out, "I'm dying."

"No, you're going to be fine." She stuttered, the pain in her voice betraying how delusional she was being. She couldn't accept the reality of the situation. She refused to believe that the man she loved more than anything was slipping away from her.

She took his hands in hers. His touch used to be so hot it could put the Devil to shame. But now his hands were colder than the coldest night in Colter.

"I've got tuberculosis." Arthur confessed to her finally.

"What?" A puzzled expression appeared on her face. "Since when?"

"Since I killed Thomas Downes."

[Y/n]'s heart dropped. She had heard rumors about the sickness, the way it slowly drained the life out of a person, but she never imagined that Arthur, her Arthur, had been battling it all this time. It explained so much, the coughing fits, the way he had grown weaker, more distant. And yet, he had never told her, never let on just how bad it was.

"I deserved to know." She replied, her voice cracking. "I could've helped you."

"I didn't want to worry you, doll. Didn't want you to see me like this. You deserved better than that."

"I loved you, I still do, and I would've stayed by your side no matter what. You should've told me. We could–" She choked on her words, realizing there was nothing they could've done to stop it.

A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of Arthur's lips. "You've always been too good for me, [Y/n]. I ain't ever deserved you, not really."

"Don't say that, Arthur. You deserve everything. And now you're dying here. Alone."

"I ain't alone." Arthur murmured, his voice growing weaker with every word. "You're here, right? That's all I ever needed."

She nodded, her heart breaking as she watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. The sunrise was casting a warm glow over his face, and for a moment, [Y/n] could almost pretend that they were somewhere else, somewhere safe, where they could live the life however they wanted to. Away from all the bullshit they had to go through.

But reality was cold and its walls were closing in on them. She could feel Arthur slipping away, his fingers holding onto hers weaker with each passing moment. She wanted to scream, to beg for more time, but it would be in vain.

Arthur stopped fighting the urge to close his eyes. "Promise me, doll... you'll find a way to live... without me." He could barely speak anymore, yet he managed to utter these words.

"I love you, Arthur." [Y/n] said instead, because she didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep.

His grip on her hands loosened, and his chest rose and fell one last time. [Y/n] leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She held him close, cradling his head in her arms as they were bathed in the warmth of the sunrise. She stayed like that, long after he was gone, her tears mixing with the blood and dirt on his skin. Arthur was gone, and with him, a part of her died too. She had nothing left to lose, nothing left to fight for, except the memory of the man she loved.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde #john marston #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #red dead redemption x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan imagines

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yanderes-galore · 2 months

Note

here's a Mauga request <3 Could you do a short of him with a darling who's a soldier of overwatch? I just love the idea of him having something he wants being out of his reach but he keeps getting teasing glimpses of it on the battle field. Thanks in advanced!

Imagine just trying to do your job, only for Talon's infamous tank to take interest...

Treat

Yandere! Mauga Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Licking of blood, Implied forced "relationship".

You're such a tease to him... like a dog to meat.

It's so difficult for Mauga to not just pounce on you any chance he gets. You're just so small compared to him. Despite that, you're so agile in your field that you can take on big targets....

It irritates him that you have to look to tantalizing... but be with Overwatch.

He scoffs, Overwatch.... That team should've been long extinct ever since what happened with Blackwatch. But, no, instead they're back up and running due to Talon and Null Sector.

You're a new agent for the hero team, already making your presence known to the world. People see you and the rest of Overwatch as heroes. Mauga always sees you on TV... always sees you in the battlefield...

But he never gets a damn taste.

He bets you don't even know how much you tempt him. He already knows as part of Overwatch you hate his guts. You know all about him due to his files.

That's fine... He's done his own research.

He remembers the first time you fought. You ran circles around him due to your smaller figure. He could easily pick you up from the ground... but he's always been one for a little fun.

You had attempted to run past him to save some civilians, but Mauga quickly blocked your way. He found how desperate you were adorable. It was so satisfying to have you trapped in his arms, cornered like prey before him. He really wanted to continue playing such games... yet he got orders to head back to base.

He was irritated the whole day after that.

Now, ever since your close encounter, Mauga has craved you. He wants to corner you again. He wants to hold you and never let go. He's real damn tired of being teased by you.

Your luck was bound to run out....

It was yet another mission and Mauga knew you'd be there. He was adamant on going there, claiming to Talon they needed his guns. Mauga may like to play games... but he's getting tired.

You stroll through the battlefield, taking down Talon agents whenever you can. You expect it to be an easy mission. Just storm some known Talon territory, track down a base of operations... You even got in the base and was doing some decent damage.

Only for you to hear heavy footsteps.

"Talofa! Been awhile, hasn't it?" Mauga chuckles, his large frame stalking close to you. You gasp, holding up your weapon with a glare. You... can't afford to fight him like this.

You're too close.

"Aww... is the little mouse scared of the big bad cat?" Mauga muses, seeing the way your weapon trembles in your grasp. "You shouldn't be so scared... I missed our time together! You telling me you don't feel the same, teuila?"

You back up, but Mauga is quick to close the distance. You let off a few shots but Mauga just laughs. He's experienced much worse....

"Don't you want to take me in? Take me down like Overwatch said you should?" Mauga laughs, smacking the assault rifle out of your hands with one of his large chain guns, "Don't start fights you can't finish, love!"

You yelp when Mauga knocks you to the ground with ease. Oh, to him it's so satisfying to finally have you. He's been waiting too damn long, he always gets what he wants.

He's tired of you being just out of his reach.

"Are you trying to be a little carrot on the stick for me, dear?" Mauga muses, tossing his guns to the side momentarily to pin you to a nearby wall with ease. "You're so cruel...."

You struggle against his tight grip, yet his grip doesn't allow much room to move. Mauga merely chuckles, gripping your sides. His gaze travels up and down your form, a grin on his face.

"Ohh... Someone's bleeding." Mauga hums, using a thick finger to wipe the top of your head. It appears he was too harsh... you're fragile.

You watch as Mauga admires the slick red liquid on his finger. He glances at you with a dark gaze before licking the digit clean with a smirk. You grimace when he hums in pleasure.

"You taste good... like a treat...." Mauga hums, "Always knew you'd taste sweet...."

"Please! Please, let me go... I won't say a word...!" You plead, which makes Mauga howl in laughter.

"What...? Scared because your intel said nothing about me? That I wasn't meant to be here..." Mauga sighs, squeezing you in his grip. He looks irritated for a moment before responding again.

"I had a friend tell me all about you. I've been hunting you, teuila..." Mauga admits, using a hand to tilt your head up.

You struggle against the grip on your chin, yet Mauga prevents you from pulling back by holding the back of your head. As of now... you're a ragdoll in his arms. Weak, pliable...

Prey.

"You still think I'm going to let you go?" Mauga chuckles, seeing the desperate look in your eyes. "Well... Maybe... Maybe I will... but, for now..."

Mauga pulls you closer, lips ghosting over your own. Your breath hitches in fear... which only makes Mauga more eager. He's wanted this.

He's wanted you for so long...

"For now, won't you allow me more of a taste...? Then... maybe I'll let you go...."

He isn't going to let you go regardless of what you do... not when he finally has you to himself.

#yandere overwatch #yandere mauga #yandere maugaloa malosi #yandere overwatch x reader

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cordeliawhohung · 9 months

Text

Sun Bleached Flies - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they're worse. It's difficult to tell when you're still stuck in that basement.

warnings: PTSD, angst, anxiety/panic attack, blood, hurt/comfort

wc: 7k

Simon was always good with a gun.

Well, not always, but he learned quickly after he joined up. Countless hours were spent down at the range, cleaning, loading, aiming, shooting, working on his technique and stance; becoming a lethal and effective killer. Practice makes permanent, and he found himself using a handgun to shoot several yards at a target at an outdoor range, which felt wrong. The distance was much too far, and he couldn’t even tell if he was hitting his target effectively, let alone if his grouping was alright.

That wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong. His M1911 felt too light, even with a full magazine, which seemed like it held too few bullets. He swore he loaded nine rounds in, but could only squeeze the trigger three times before the slide was stuck open, telling him he was dry. So he’d reload, rack the slide, and try again just for the same events to occur.

Eventually, he got frustrated. Too damn far to see the target properly, and he certainly had faulty equipment, so he holstered his gun and glanced around the area, defeated. The range itself was proper, but something seemed off about it. It was his feet, constantly slipping on something, and it wasn’t until he looked down that he realized it was sand. Desert-like sand, but it seemed too moist. Was he at the beach?

“Did I not say I would find someone who would make you talk?”

Simon turned around so quickly he swore his neck would snap. It was Bukin. Always Bukin. He grinned like a hyena with rotting teeth and a decaying core, and his chuckle was just as sour. An unexplainable rage began to smother him at the very sight of that creature, and his fingers twitched as he reached for his gun once more.

“You don’t deserve her,” Bukin continued as Simon aimed the muzzle of his pistol at him. “She would’ve been better off with me.”

A single shot echoed in the air, but there was no ringing in his ear, or crack in the distance. His gun didn’t jump, and Bukin still stood as if a bullet had never been fired in the first place. In anger, Simon stomped towards the man, gun still pointed at him, and pulled the trigger another time. Once more, there was nothing but a single shot and no blood.

“Or maybe you should have never had her at all,” Bukin mused as he crossed his arms over his chest, unphased. “You had to have known it would happen, yes? Death follows you everywhere you go, Ghost. It was going to get her eventually.”

The stiff end of the muzzle pushed against Bukin’s sternum, and Simon held it there firmly as he pulled the trigger once again. He had gone through the actions so many times. He knew what it sounded like when the breath was torn out of someone after the impact of a shot. Where was the thud of Bukin’s body? Why was the light still in his eyes?

“Ghost?”

Simon turned around at the sound of your voice. There was a small waiver in your tone that made his stomach drop, and he could feel his heart scream and shatter at the sight of you. Hands covered in blood, trembling lips, tears pouring from your eyes as you clutched your chest. You stared at him as if begging for him, as if he was the only person in the world who could save you.

When he tried to take a step forward, he felt his feet starting to sink through the sand, like the earth was trying to swallow him whole. Legs straining, he tried to push through, climb across the land and claw his way to you. You continued to stand there, hand clutched to your chest, blood flowing impossibly fast through the wound. Had he caused that? Or had you always been like that? Broken? Bleeding? Why did you look at him like that? Like you were forgiving him?

Sand swallowed him up to his waist by that point, and there was so much blood soaking the ground he couldn’t tell how much of it was yours, pouring from your wound, or his, pouring from his nails; broken and ragged from clawing to get to you. The worst part was, there were no hands holding him back, no biting words degrading him. Nothing in the world was stopping Simon from saving you except for himself. There was more blood than earth by that point, and the roaring sound of the ocean waves drowned out your crying and begging.

Eventually the earth felt pity on Simon, and the sand swallowed him whole.

Simon hardly needed to set alarms those days. His body did all the work for him, consistently waking him up with a frenzied jolt. A thick layer of sweat permeated his sleepwear, and he could feel strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. A terrible, chest rattling drum pounded in his body, and he could feel the way his ribs heaved in order to steady his heart.

The first place he turned to look was to you. Fast asleep on your side of the bed, the only clue that you were even alive was the subtle movement of your shoulders with your soft breathing. He knew he should have been happy to see you sleeping so peacefully, but when his eyes settled on the bottle of Ambien on your nightstand, a sour taste soiled his tongue.

Turning his attention to one of the windows, Simon took notice of the dull spring sunrise peeking through the curtains as he sat up. It was soft and white, like there were too many clouds in the sky for the sun to shine properly. It was only a matter of time before your alarm woke you up for work, and though he usually liked to stay around until you left, something was telling him to run. Run, fight, scream, because then at least the pounding in his chest would make sense.

Instead, he turned back to face you and your sleeping form. So soft and quiet underneath the covers, hidden away from the world that was much too cruel towards you. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, and not even that stirred you out of your sleep. Still, it made him feel a little better as he slipped out underneath the blankets and began to dress himself for the day.

One day the bed would grow warmer. He’d wake up with you in his arms again, smiling up at him, and his nightmares would finally fade away. But he was too afraid to cut you on the broken pieces of himself, and he was tired of seeing your blood. Your happily-ever-after would come someday. Eventually. Just not that day. Not while he still failed to save you, even in his dreams.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Once again, the sound of Jace’s shoes were driving you up the wall. The man had grown partial to wearing a full suit at work, for some strange reason, which only proved to annoy you even further. Strutting around in his charcoal grey suit all important-like while he breathed down the necks of every poor girl that worked there. He wasn’t a creep or anything, just much too enthusiastic about his job, and with no concept of personal space it didn’t take much effort for the man to irritate you.

Luckily, you were working on fixing a jam in the cash dispenser, which meant you were mostly out of your manager's line of sight. It was a difficult jam, something that couldn’t be fixed by simply opening the side panel and yanking the paper cash out by hand. Grime built up on money too easy, and the tips of your fingers had turned grey just from handling what little cash you had managed to yank out of the dispenser. No wonder that shit got jammed; there was so much dirt and dust stuck in that machine. Did anyone even bother to do any cleaning while you were gone?

You nearly laughed out loud at that thought. While you were gone. Why did you make it sound like you were gone by choice? Would it have been easier if you had just gone willingly? Would it have saved you from the pain?

No. No, you were at work and you needed to focus. There was no room for you to slip away, to go back to that house, that beach, that orchard, any of it. Your hands stilled on the machine as you took a shaky breath. No room for emotions; just for cleaning.

You stepped away from the machine for a short moment, trying to change your focus to something else while you reached for a can of compressed air. It made quick work of the dust and buildup crammed into the sensors and circuits of the machine, and you watched as it swirled in the air around you. A tingling sensation settled deep in your nose, and you tried not to think about the adverse effects that inhaling literal human grime and greed would have on your health.

Jace’s shoes hit against the stone floor of the bank again. Their terrible click-clack sound was not at all similar to boots on wood, and yet you still found yourself looking up towards the ceiling. There was no second floor to the building, no rooms above your head. Nothing but bright lights and fancy fixtures greeted you, and you found yourself swallowing hard as you looked back down at the dispenser. It was an instinctual reaction, something you couldn’t stop yourself from doing, and yet your heart raced all the same.

Sniffling, you shook your head and continued messing with the machinery in front of you. After opening a few more panels and removing a few parts, you found where the worst part of the jam had occurred. Someone didn’t check the cash well enough for slight tears, and it had gotten caught on one of the belts and torn, leaving a large pile of money behind it waiting to be processed. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you reached into the machine to pull the disfigured money out, and you did your best to ignore it as you started to close everything back up.

Something cracked behind you, and you froze. It was nothing more than someone scooting back in their chair, and you knew it. It was a sound you had heard plenty of times at work. You knew what it was, and yet your body didn’t. Your body heard it as a thump above you. A chair toppling over after someone shoved it in anger. Then it was followed by footsteps. Boots on wood. Stalking towards you as the sound descended downstairs. He was right on top of you. Right behind that door. Waiting to tear you apart.

Then his hand was on your shoulder. Always touching you. Always grabbing you like he owned you, like you were nothing more than a pet to him. Maybe you had been. No, you were less than that; you had just been livestock. An animal he tried to use to keep himself alive, something to bargain with. And his hand was on your shoulder, ready to take you away to be slaughtered.

“Hey, are we getting anywhere with this j-?”

When you turned around, you led with your elbow, and it collided with something squishy, followed by a yelp. Your eyes landed on your manager, Jace, who stood in front of you, doubled over as he held his nose. Blood splattered on the ground, staining his fingers as it poured uncontrollably from his nose. You looked down at the mess and noticed he had gotten some on the tips of his shiny, annoying dress shoes.

“Bleeding fucking christ,” he said through gritted teeth.

All you could do was stand there in shock with your hands hiding away your mouth as you looked at the mess you caused. You wanted to be angry, you deserved to be angry. He fucking touched you when a simple question could have easily gotten your attention. But he was bleeding, all over the floor, and when he looked up at you with involuntary tears in his eyes, you found your stomach churning with guilt.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked. You tried to sound large, but your voice only shook as you lowered your hands away from your face.

“What?” Jace asked, peeved. His voice was congested due to the blood he was trying not to choke on. “I should be the one asking you that! You broke my fucking nose!”

“Do you know how to talk to people without touching them?” you retorted. But your voice gave away what strength you tried to fake. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop shaking.

“My apologies, didn’t realize it was a bloody crime,” Jace muttered, the sarcasm almost covering his anger.

Even after all that time, it was always the same. Greedy hands on your waist in a bar. Vile hands holding your wrist, threatening to shatter it. The hands of your idiot manager trying to get your attention. Each and every time you knew it was wrong, that they shouldn’t have been touching you like that, and each and every time you were the one to blame for it.

It was always the same. Nothing had changed.

Different voices, kinder voices, tried to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of your terror. That pulsing mass of muscle in your chest, or the hyperventilating of your lungs. Sometimes your chest ached so terribly you thought you would die, and that’s how you felt in that moment. You’d just keel over on the stone floor and drown in the blood you accidentally spilled over a fucking panic attack.

So you left. You hadn’t even fully realized you were leaving until you were outdoors where the bitter spring rain almost instantly soaked you to the bone, even through the thick fabric of your blazer. There was the vague sound of the bank door opening behind you, but you ignored it and kept walking and prayed that whoever was behind you would leave you to be devoured.

Your walk home felt like a blur; like you were just some puppet with her strings being pulled. There wasn’t a single action you had taken the last few days that actually felt like your own will. You had turned into a simple bystander for your own life. People said that spring rain washed away everything so that there was room for new growth. The only thing you felt in the rain was cold, and it certainly didn’t wash away the anger that tried to strangle you or the sobs that choked you.

When you arrived home, everything was quiet. Usually Simon was there to greet you, but you also usually spent more than two hours at work. Really, it was for the best that he wasn't there anyway. He had always managed to find you in such vulnerable states, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him seeing you like that. Soaked to the bone, uncontrollable tears falling from your eyes, having probably just lost your job after essentially assaulting your manager.

It was a coo that caught your attention. Brought you back to reality, if only for a moment. It came from Boo, of course, who stood near your feet. He looked slightly disgruntled at the small puddle of water that had gathered around your feet, like he wanted to rub against you but didn’t dare get his paws wet. You wished you had his ignorance.

You felt bad for doing so, but you left Boo by the entrance as you pushed deeper into the apartment, headed straight for the bedroom. Your blazer was peeled off of your body and you carelessly left it in the middle of the hallway before hiding yourself behind a closed door. It didn’t take Boo long to track you down and attempt to paw at you through the gap under the door but you just couldn’t. He was an ignorant cat, and still you wouldn’t put him through the horror of watching your breakdown.

A squelching sound followed every step you took as you walked to sit on your side of the bed. The utter anxiety and pain in your chest had diminished but you could feel it slowly being replaced by a terrifying numbness. In order to preserve itself, your body had placed itself into some sort of limbo, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

Sighing heavily, you wiped at the moisture on your face, unsure if it was from your tears or the rain. When your vision cleared, your eyes settled on the bottle of pills on your nightstand. A half empty glass of water sat next to it, almost enticingly. Fucking Ambien. You shouldn’t give in, and you knew that. You’d fuck up your sleep schedule even more than it already was. But whatever was happening, whatever it was that was going on inside of you, you didn’t want to be conscious for it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Smoking after any sort of physical training was certainly a terrible idea, and Simon was fully aware of this, yet he didn’t care enough to stop himself. So he stood outside, close enough to the building that the rain didn’t get him too wet, despite the fire laws that went against it, and puffed away. He hoped the rain would wash away any lingering scent of nicotine from his clothes.

He worked harder than he should have, and his body paid the price for it. Achy muscles plagued his arms, legs, and for some reason his core, even though he hadn’t focused on it all that much. Progress was slow, and he was still further away from his old self than he liked. A part of him wondered if he would ever see combat again. Did he even want to after everything that happened to you? Could he stomach leaving you again, not knowing if you’d be there when he came home?

The thought of leaving you made him sick.

It didn’t take him long to finish his cigarette, and he shoved his mask back over his face before venturing off into the storm. Noon would roll around soon, and he figured he’d need to eat a big meal after the hours he put in at the on base gym. After suffering through mid-day traffic for longer than what felt legal, Simon arrived home where the rain was just as unrelenting. Avoiding the moisture as much as humanly possible, he dove into the apartment.

A small puddle of water greeted him at the entrance, and he found his eyes narrowing at the sight. Was there a leak? Dark eyes glanced up at the ceiling, worried the roof wasn’t holding up, yet there didn’t seem to be any sign of cracks or a burst pipe. Sighing, he slipped into the kitchen where he removed his mask and coat and set it on the counter. His pack of cigarettes peeked out of his pocket, as if trying to tempt him to take another, but he ignored that thought in favor of leaving to grab a towel to clean up the mess instead.

Simon hardly took a step into the hallway before he froze. Something was wrong. A sopping wet mess of clothing sat in the center of the hallway, and a ring of water settled around it. It wouldn’t be good for the flooring, but that was the least of his concerns. The door to the bedroom was closed tight, and Boo laid on his side, nose peeking underneath the crack as best as he could. Simon ventured a few steps closer, catching the attention of the impatient feline, and he instantly hopped up and trotted up to the man, meowing.

“What’s up, mate?” he asked, leaning down to gently scratch the cat's ears. The question was playful, but it didn’t help the uneasiness that had an iron grip on his stomach.

Boo followed Simon to the door and was the first to dash in the moment it was opened. Your sleeping frame was the first thing he noticed, and if he didn’t know better he would have thought you hadn’t moved at all since he left in the morning. But you were on top of the covers rather than under them, and in your work clothes instead of pajamas. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes.

Concern didn’t even begin to describe the mess of feelings swirling in Simon’s head. You were supposed to be at work, not a soaking, unconscious mess in bed. Carefully, he approached the side of the bed where he tried to assess you as quietly as possible. No marks, your breathing looked and sounded okay, your eyes fluttered like you were in deep sleep; you looked fine. But you weren’t. He knew you weren’t, and he didn’t like that.

Maybe he should have left you alone, but he couldn’t stop the hand that reached for your shoulder. Your clothes were still moist, and his skin stuck to your dress shirt as he gently shook your shoulder. You were icey to the touch, and he tried not to flinch at the feeling.

“Sweetheart? Hey…”

His voice was so soothing it had to be a dream. No, not just his voice, but everything. It all felt so far away and muted, yet so close, as if something was clawing inside of you, trying to get out. Lungs expanded with a deep breath, your eyes fluttered open, and your vision was completely obscured by Simon. He knelt on the floor next to the bed where he leaned forward so that his hand could brush against your cheek. It was only then that you realized how cold you were. Damp clothes clung to your body as if trying to suffocate you, and your muscles attempted to turn into stone with how stiff they were. It was like waking up on wet grass.

And it all came back to you. The crunching sound of your elbow smashing a nose, the panic that footsteps stirred in your chest, how you couldn’t be touched without feeling Bukin instead. You stared at Simon with glossy eyes, and you tried to open your mouth to speak but stayed silent instead. His concern only grew at your silence, and you watched as the proof of it etched onto the features of his face. He looked at you like that so often you were certain his face would be stuck that way.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked softly. Everything he did was soft when it concerned you. Like he feared he would shatter you.

“I… don’t know.” Your response spewed out of your mouth before the thought was even formed. The Ambien you had taken shrouded your mind in murky water, and you weren’t sure if you should be grateful for it or not. Neverbefore had you ever felt so light and heavy at the same time.

With an odd burst of energy, you sat up and Simon’s hand fell from your face. It was as if no time had passed at all. You had just been stuck in some sort of limbo and thrown right back into reality the moment you had woken up, and fuck did it hurt. A heavy dryness overwhelmed your throat to the point you were certain your vocal cords would crack, and there was some evil creature running around wreaking havoc in your head.

“I’m gonna get some water,” you said as you scooted towards the edge of the bed. Each word that you spoke felt too big for your mouth, but you let them tumble out anyway.

An uncomfortable squish sounded as your still soaked shoes hit the floor, but you ignored it as you pushed yourself to your feet. Boo curiously paced in front of you, eyes trained on your face as if he too was attempting to read your mind, but you ignored him as you wandered out of the room.

You hadn’t realized Simon followed behind you like a lost dog until you reached the kitchen. Before you could even reach for a cup, he had already gotten one down for you and was at the sink filling it up. Rain continued to fall just as fiercely as it had been during your walk home, and you could feel the low grumble of thunder reverberate through the entire complex.

“Did you walk home?” Simon prompted as he held the cup for you to take. He was trying to test the waters. Trying to figure out why you were home, but not fully there with him. In a way, you reminded him of himself, half awake, walking around the house smothering toothpaste on his face in a traumatic driven daze.

“Yeah,” you answered bluntly. Sniffling, you raised the cup to your lips and took a small sip of water before continuing. “My manager was just, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I’m probably fired anyway.”

“Fired?” Simon repeated, the disbelief obvious in his voice despite how hard he tried to keep his tone neutral.

You really didn’t want to talk about it. Because you could say that you smashed Jace’s face with your elbow, and you could say that you didn’t like the sound of his shoes, or how he touched your shoulder. That was easy. Those were facts. What you didn’t want to explain was why. Why you responded with such violence, why the sound of his shoes ignited some deep fear you tried to smother, what you were reminded of when he touched you.

So you looked around the kitchen in an attempt to distract your brain enough to come up with a lie. You had always been so terrible at lying, and you knew Simon was aware of that fact, too. Eyes focusing around the room, you looked everywhere as long as it wasn’t at Simon. An old grocery list held up by a magnet on the fridge. The slightly cracked handle on the microwave. Simon’s jacket bunched up on the counter.

A boiling heat rumbled in your chest when your eyes landed on a small cartridge that slid halfway out of the pocket of his jacket. At first you thought your eyes attempted to play a trick on you. Something that the Ambien made you hallucinate. But the more you focused on it, the clearer it became; as did that anger that threatened to engulf you.

“Have you been smoking?” you asked, eyes refusing to tear away from his jacket.

Simon followed your gaze, and the muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed. You didn’t even give him time to answer before you set your cup of water on the counter next to you and snatched the cigarettes out of the jacket. Why did the sight of it make you so angry? No, you knew exactly why. You just kept playing dumb with yourself. Every time you thought about it, you were transported back in time to where the scent of it clung onto Eric’s clothes. How it burnt your nose when he got close enough you could smell it on his breath. It was the first thing you smelled when you woke up on the ground after Adakskin beat you. That terrible smell had haunted you for years, and you didn’t think you could stand it if it started following Simon around, too.

You marched over to the bin on the other side of the kitchen, and Simon called after you but you didn’t respond. Every muscle in your body had grown so taut that you had slightly crushed the cartridge before you tossed it with the rest of the rubbish. A restrained and frustrated sigh left Simon as he reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was something exceptionally irritating about not getting answers. Sure, he was used to people holding out on him during interrogations, but allies had more or less always been truthful with him. You had always been truthful with him. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t painful seeing you struggle and not knowing how to help.

“Sweetheart. Love, look at me,” Simon urged. It took everything in him to keep his voice mellow, to not get too frustrated. Like Gus had said, you didn’t have the same tools going into all that like he did. Eventually you did turn to look at him, eyes already growing wet. His gaze softened as he relaxed the muscles in his shoulders and face; it was the closest you had ever seen him to looking truly sad. “Talk to me.”

Every emotion that you had forced into dormancy began to erupt in that moment. All the anger you tried to swallow, the grief you tried to bury, the disgust you felt towards yourself; it all came up to the surface. The pounding headache in your skull didn’t help with the tightness you felt crushing your chest, and for a moment all you could do was muster a defeated shrug, hands bumping against your thighs.

“I don’t know how to,” you admitted in frustration. “I don’t know how to talk to anyone anymore. I want to. At least, I think I do. But, fuck, sometimes I think about what I want to say and I sound fucking insane.”

Pausing for a moment, you reached your hands up to rub at your face. It was difficult to tell if it was because of the Ambien or not, but everything felt fuzzy. More than it normally did those days. Your thoughts, your words, your movements, it all felt unreal. Even so, a flood had started. Everything had been building up inside of you for months, nearly crushing your organs with the pressure, and it felt like there was nothing you could do but watch it pour out of you.

“Like, I was fucking kidnapped. That sounds fucking crazy, like something you’d see on a true crime show, not- not something I’m supposed to experience,” you continued, pulling your hands away from your face. “And it’s weird because for a while I was just some sort of trophy for them. Something to taunt you with and it- it was fine when it was just that but fuck Simon he- that crazy bastard he-”

Words failed you, and you choked back a sob as you bit into one of your knuckles. Simon braved a step towards you as the tears started to stream down your cheeks. Somehow, talking about what happened was more painful than actually experiencing it.

“He didn’t even do anything serious so I feel like an idiot for even freaking out about it but I can’t- like- fuck, sometimes people touch me and it’s him. It doesn’t make sense but it’s just- it’s him and it terrifies me. Every footstep I hear sounds like it’s above me even when I’m in a single story building, the smell of cigarettes reminds me of waking up on the fucking floor.”

You choked on the snot building up in your nose and you paused for a second to sniffle and wipe away the uncontrollable swell of tears that fell from your eyes. Something in you urged you to stop talking, to just shut up before you said something you regretted, but you couldn’t. There was no dam in the world strong enough to hold back everything erupting inside of you.

“Sometimes I think about how he touched me, dressed me in his coat, the things he said to me and I feel disgusted. He ruined me. I can scrub at myself as long as I want and I still feel it. I can’t get clean. I know it doesn’t make sense but I don’t know how else to explain it,” you continued.

Simon only grew closer, slowly, as if he was trying to coax a wild animal into his grasp. Maybe that’s what you had become. Some feral beast that took too much effort to love. He was close enough for you to grab, and you wanted to so badly it ached. You wanted for him to reach out and swallow you whole because maybe then you’d finally be clean.

“And I want to tell you everything but I feel so ashamed to be alive right now,” you sobbed. “He ruined me. That sounds so fucking stupid but he- I wished he had been worse. I really, really do. They fed me and kept me alive and kept me clean like a goddamn pet when really the whole time I wished they would have killed me already because I felt like I was betraying you by being unharmed. But they didn’t. And I’m still alive, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be because I’m not- I don’t think I’m really here.”

There it was. Bubbling in the back of your throat. The confession that felt like it would kill you if you admitted it out loud. But there was no stopping it. All you had ever done was watch your life go by from the sidelines anyway.

“I can hear something that reminds me of being back there, and I know. I know why it scares me and what it reminds me of. I can reach out and talk to you because I know- I hope that you still love me after everything but I just can't because I’m not really here. I’m still in that fucking basement, Simon. And I want to be here with you, and I want to feel better but I’m stuck there.”

You hadn’t realized how close Simon had gotten to you until his hand brushed against your upper arm. That was the last straw. Whatever composure you attempted to hold together shattered, and a moment later you found your face buried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you so firmly it was like he attempted to hold you together. When your knees gave out underneath you, Simon fell with you. Gently, he lowered the both of you to the ground so that you sat in his lap while he leaned against the cupboards under the countertop.

Each sob rattled your body so violently you were sure you would break apart then and there, but Simon wouldn’t let you. His hand engulfed the back of your head where he kept you close to his chest, rocking you ever so gently. There was something bittersweet about the way he kissed the top of your head, how he buried his face as best as he could into the crook of your neck. He held you until your body was finished rocking your world with wails, and even then he still continued to hold you.

“There’s nothing in this world I care about more than you,” he spoke once the waves settled. “I wanted to tear the world apart when I realized you were gone, and I thank whatever sick creator we have that you’re alive. I’m not gonna judge you for doing what you had to in order to survive. It’s not gonna make me love you any less.”

His confession nearly had you sobbing all over again, but you bit into your lower lip and forced yourself to keep your composure. You weren’t sure if you even had many more tears left to shed, anyway.

“You should have never gone through that at all, and I’m sorry you did,” he continued. The hand on the back of your head adjusted slightly, gently moving your shoulder back. Taking his hint, you leaned back some and looked up at Simon. His thumb ghosted along your cheek, wiping away any remaining moisture. “We’re gonna get you through this, yeah?”

It felt impossible. Getting through it. Getting better. You wanted to deny it, claim that healing was meant for people who were still mostly whole. But you wanted to get better so badly it hurt. You swallowed and sniffled some as you nodded in agreement, and moments later he pulled you back into his chest once more.

That was the first time that you really felt like you were home. Crumbled on the kitchen floor in Simon’s arms. There was something lovingly tragic about it; about being destroyed and still having someone to love you. It was a promise. The kind that couldn’t be broken. So when he pressed yet another kiss to the top of your head and mumbled the words, “I love you more than anything,” you believed him.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been months since Simon had last seen you smile. Truly smile. Yet there he was, sitting on a log in the middle of the Forest of Dean watching you giggle as you dipped your hands into a small stream. The August heat was unrelenting, even through the canopy of foliage overhead, and he watched as you rubbed the fresh water up your arms. The two of you were roughly two hours into your hike, and it had been awhile since he had last seen you so energetic. Each waving flower, small critter, and neat rock had to be enjoyed, and you made sure to point out everything worth seeing.

Digging his canteen out of his bag, he took a deep sip of water as he watched you pick rocks out of the stream bed. You’d run your fingers over it, cleaning off any clinging dirt so that you could enjoy whatever colors were hidden underneath, and then place the item back in the water where you had found it. Even though your back was turned to him, he could still imagine the grin on your lips.

The last few months that you had been in therapy had been treating you well. There were some things that were still difficult, old wounds that would never quite heal right, but you laughed more often, and talked as if you had never known a moment of silence in your life. It felt nice. Better. Things would never be back to how they used to be, though sometimes he wished they would, but it was more than enough to hear you laugh again.

A gasp left you, and Simon watched as you slowly straightened into a standing position. Knowing that he was about to be beckoned over, he hid the canteen away in his pack once more before sliding off of the log he had been using as a bench.

“Simon, come look,” you said quietly, as if afraid to disturb something.

With careful feet, he snuck up by your side where he was quick to notice what had caught your attention. A small dragonfly had perched itself on the tip of your forefinger where its wings glinted like church windows in the obscured sunlight. It stayed remarkably still for a creature that chose an excited human to rest on. You whispered how beautiful it was, how the blue of its body mirrored that of the sky, or how the pattern on its wings could be put in a museum.

Once it had its fill of compliments, it fluttered off of your finger and back into the heart of the forest where it vanished from sight. You stood there for a moment with Simon by your side, the toes of your shoes just kissing the crystal clear stream water by your feet. Everything was fresh, warm, and real. Nature surrounded you on all sides, and it was the most free you had felt in a long time.

“I’m excited,” you suddenly blurted out, attention turning to Simon. “To move into our new place.”

He hummed in response as his hands found your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. Smiling, you leaned into him with the palm of your hands flat against his chest. He looked at you with such adoration, like even after all that time the two of you had been together he still couldn’t quite believe you were his.

“It’ll be a good workout. Lifting all those boxes,” he quipped with a slight smirk. “For me, anyways.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and swayed in his arms, yet your gaze found its way back to those lush, dark eyes of his. As if your bodies were magnetized, his lips found yours in a sweet, deep kiss, and the warmth of the sun couldn’t even compare to the warmth that ignited inside of you. And it felt nice, beyond nice, being able to kiss him without fearing you’d taint him. You could hold onto him, and lean your head against his chest when the kiss was done, and you were there. You were there in Simon's arms in the midst of a forest and nowhere else.

“It’ll be dark soon if we keep going at this rate,” you sighed contently as he gently swayed you back and forth.

“I’ve got a flashlight,” he said.

“‘Course you do.”

“Always prepared.”

Another playful eye roll followed that comment, and the two of you slowly separated from one another. After recuperating, you started down the trail where you once again continued pointing out every single little thing that caught your attention. Simon watched on with a small smile and offered cheeky comments when it fit just so he could hear you laugh more. It was freeing to be out there in the fresh air, away from the noise of the city. It was even more freeing to know that soon you would be in a place where everything felt different and clean. Soon, you and Simon would be able to start over again, and you couldn’t help but grin to yourself at that thought.

As far as you were concerned, each step you took along that trail was another step closer to getting out of that basement.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here @spookyscaryspoon

find my taglist here

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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thechaoscryptid · 11 months

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my writing warm-up today got a little out of hand so pls enjoy some Tav/Astarion (reads gender neutral but you can see my Tav under the cut) hurt/"Astarion's best attempts at comfort but they don't land real well bc he's still not sure how to Relationship and Tav is Unsure About Their Status Generally" from after clearing the Waning Moon (did I accidentally trigger the fight, yes). Takes place before The Hug Scene, but he can have some touching, as a treat.

"I don't think the fire's going to give up any secrets, dove, but you can keep glaring if you'd like." Astarion piles himself at your feet, hesitating only slightly before leaning back between your knees. The camp is silent save for the echoing, animal chittering in the surrounding forest, but you know the tension that lines his shoulders—he does not trust the quiet.

To relax is to bare your belly for gutting; to be vigilant is to survive.

By now, you have had enough of survival to last a lifetime.

The flames crackle, and the embers that dance their way down to the dirt do little to catch your bleary eyes. Exhaustion sings through you, echoing off of your ribs like a dirge from cathedral ceilings.

"Darling?" Astarion's fingers are cool against your ankles. They ease the ache that's built up over the last several days of sprinting across gnarled roots and crumbling brick. The Shadow-Cursed Lands take no prisoners, and though you are by far the weakest among your not-so-merry band, you will not be the link that breaks the chain.

There is too much at stake to fail.

Your dry mouth works as Astarion twists to look up at you, but no words come to mind. The furrow between his brow deepens when your fingers tremble atop his head.

"You're practically falling over," he accuses. "How in the hells do you expect to make it to bed? Why haven't you gone already?"

You shake your head once, mouth twisting in a smile that lands like a slap. "I took first watch."

"You—" He scoffs. "Gods, is everyone in this damned camp a fool? Don't answer that," he continues when you take a deep breath. "'We're all a team, Astarion; we need to look out for one another, you prick.' You've made the point so many times that I think about it when I trance." Draping himself across your thigh, he reaches up to cradle the plane of your throat. "How much magic did that...that beast take out of you? Wretched creature—you should have taken the drink, you know."

"All of it," you rasp. "And quite a few scrolls, in addition."

Astarion curses. "And everyone's all left you alone."

"I volunteered."

"They have eyes. They should use them." Astarion rises, all fluid grace and towering ire as he looms, carding a hand through your mussed braids. "Let me guess—you told them you were fine."

Though you butt your head into his palm like that cat at Last Light he was so enamored with, your eyes narrow as you glance up. "I am. Look, I can stand."

And you do, admirably steady for all of half a second before he pushes your shoulder and your calves knock against the felled tree you've dragged in for a bench. The sudden stop when Astarion grabs your elbows and pulls you into him sends a jolt down your already-frayed nerves.

"Anyone could walk up and take you, and you'd be defenseless," he murmurs. His hands slide down the length of your forearms, and then skim up to your jaw. You allow him to tip your head from side to side, but cannot meet his eyes—you've always found it hard to reconcile their emptiness with his professed concern.

You say, "Is that what you want? To take me?"

And he says, "No."

"Are you hungry, Astarion?"

"Not for you," he says, and he sounds so disgusted that you flinch. "Oh, not—" He clicks his tongue, then sighs. His whole body sags as he attempts to meet your eyes. "Look at me, darling. Chin up."

Though his touch is gentle, there is a poorly-concealed tremor in the fingers that curl in the hollows below your jaw. You look at his mouth, though it's impossible to read when it's lying.

"Oh, you are haunted by something tonight. I'm sorry, if that makes a difference. I only meant I want you strong tomorrow."

You list to your left and whine—it feels pathetic, even on a night such as this—at the undercurrent of sincerity in the apology.

"Come to bed," he says, softening. "Rest. I'll take watch."

"I promis—"

"Look around—no one's going to come for your throat about taking a night off." The world whirls as he twists you in his arms, then wraps them around your stomach as he nuzzles against your pulse. "I might have to get territorial if they did, you know. I do appreciate your willingness to offer it up; I'd hate to see it ruined. It would be a dreadful mess to clean up around camp, wouldn't it?

"And..." he continues, abandoning your neck in favor of walking you a few steps forward, away from the fire and toward his tent. "You sleep so soundly in my bed. I enjoy watching you come alive in the morning."

Your face heats, and you mumble, "Not that soundly."

"You snore."

Smacking lightly at the back of his hands, you squirm back around to face him. What you see does nothing to untangle the tight knot of feeling lashed to your chest: wide eyes gone soft with concern, a hint of mirth in the lines that frame them, and the beginnings of true fondness in his smile.

"What?" he asks when you avert your gaze.

You bite your tongue against the confessions borne on the leaden wings of exhaustion; this is not the place to delve into desires. It is easier to choke down I want more and I love you and We are the same shape of broken—to let them fester where they're branded on your bones—than to watch his eyes shutter against the words.

"I'm tired," you say instead, and it is the truest truth you've ever uttered, "of having to protect everyone."

"So don't." Astarion bends to rest his temple against yours. "Let me be your sword and shield, if only for the night. Rest, dove—you've more than earned it."

Bonus: my Tav, Kestra! She's a human sorcerer specializing in necromantic and cold damage, and based off of one of my original novel characters 🥰

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #my writing

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quest-for-pluto · 10 months

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Sparkles

Ao’nung x Human!Female!Reader

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Summary: You work as maintenance at base 36, a testing facility used for unethical experiments on captured local Na’vi. One day when the base’s power supply melts down and explodes, you’re caught in the flaming crossfire. In a split second decision, you also decide to free the panicking Na’vi in his glass cell.

Aged up!Aonung to 21 and reader is 20

Chapter 2: the giant blue alien in the room

You woke up to the pleasant feeling of burning agony, like you'd just skinny dipped in molten hot lava.

"G-guhhhh—" you choked out, fingers twitching and trembling against the floor as you struggled to gain some semblance of motor control. Tears burned your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You writhed violently on your side as wave after wave of excruciating, searing pain washed over you.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breathe through it, Y/n.

That was a lot more difficult than it sounded, especially when all you could hear was a continuous, tortured scream in your head. Your nails scraped at the cold concrete that did nothing to cool you down, trying to grasp onto something for support but only finding air between your fingers.

Never had you experienced anything so intense and all-consuming in your life. On a scale of 'Oh shit, that was a spicy cheeto' to 'Fuck I think my face is melting off', you were probably at a respectable 'I want to amputate all of my limbs and live in a freezer for the rest of my life'. Your vision dimmed and blurred as you fought to stay awake.

It was a strangled choking sound that broke you slightly out of your delirium. Your head turned slowly to see a giant blue body not too far from you, the skin on his right arm and leg raised in a pattern of angry looking blisters, but that wasn't what caught your attention. It was the frantic wheezing sounds he was making, grabbing desperately at his throat.

Somewhere in your foggy mind it occurred to you that oh yeah, that's right, his kind were not meant to breathe in your air.

Get up, Y/n, you chided yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. You need to do something.

With all of the strength you could muster, you rolled over, your vision nearly going white from the blinding pain. Slowly you staggered to your feet, pausing as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You blinked through your titling vision, eyes scanning the room for a possible solution. The only thing you could see were the supplies you had originally found, although some of them were admittedly pretty burnt now. Rebreather masks would be useless to him as well. Shit.

That left only one option. You had to figure out how to bring the native air from outside into the room.

Your eyes rose to the two, tiny windows in the room, located way higher than you could reach. You knew that every single window in base 36 was mandated to be bulletproof, so the chances of you being able to break it were thin, but—you had to try.

Staggering to your pile of supplies, you dropped to your knees, hands frantically combing through the items until they closed around the handle of the rifle you had discovered earlier. You quickly snatched a rebreather mask from the floor and secured it on your face. With a shuddering breath, you aimed the barrel at the right window, flicking off the safety and hastily pulling the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet ricocheted off of the surface, imbedding itself into the wall just over your shoulder. You inhaled sharply, turning to blink at it in shock. That was...way too close.

By now, the Na'vi had given up clawing at his throat. He laid sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and terror-filled as his chest rose and fell rapidly in short, convulsing breaths.

Damn, damn, damn. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Don't worry," you articulated the best you could, which was probably a barely understandable slur. "I won't—I won't let you die."

With renewed determination, you lifted the barrel to aim at the window again. You pulled the trigger.

Bang.

"Ah, fuck!" You cried, stumbling backwards. The bullet had grazed your burnt arm. Damn that stung like a motherfucker.

You grabbed the wound, clenching your jaw as you put pressure on it. Warm, thick blood escaped from between your fingers, trickling down your skin in rivulets.

"Okay," you breathed to yourself, supporting your injured arm with your other hand. Your whole body trembled from the pulsing pain. "You can do this, come on."

You pulled the trigger.

With a cry, you dropped the gun, clutching onto your arm in pain from the recoil.

The bullet imbedded itself in the window. You panted, watching with wide eyes as cracks began to quickly spread from the point of impact.

It shattered, pieces of glass exploding outwards and clattering onto the floor. You lowered your gaze, sighing in relief.

Your eyes flickered to the trembling form to your left. He was in terrible shape, but he hadn't passed out yet. He would survive.

You sunk carelessly to your knees, hands pressing into the floor as you struggled to catch your breath. Was it you, or was it getting suffocatingly humid in here?

Wait.

You took a deep, experimental breath, horrified to find that it didn't quite fill your lungs. Your hands quickly shot up to your mask, grasping blindly until you froze, cold realization washing over you as your thumb ran over a noticeable crack.

No, no, no. You couldn't possible be this much of an idiot.

Except you were.

You'd forgotten to properly check your own oxygen supply in your haste to make sure that the potentially homicidal alien didn't suffocate next to you. Now you were about to suffocate instead. Fantastic.

You dove back into the scattered pile of junk with desperation, your heart sinking as one by one, the rebreather masks turned up cracked or burnt. Completely unusable.

This can't be happening, you thought hysterically, a sob threatening to burst from your throat.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your eyelids fluttering with the effort of staying open. It was at that moment when you finally spotted it lying on the floor, maybe a dozen or so steps away.

A completely intact mask.

Your eyes widened as you staggered forward, hand reaching out desperately. You took about two steps before your vision swam dangerously, your gaze titling quickly towards the ground.

You landed harshly on the concrete, you could tell by the way your teeth clacked and the hard jolt in your wrists, but you barely felt any pain. The only thing you could feel was the burning in your lungs and the thrumming wooziness in your head that was making everything spin.

Come on, you gritted your teeth, using the last of your strength to shimmy yourself forward, your mouth gaping open in rapid, heavy pants.

Come on....

Your vision darkened at the edges as your head collapsed against the floor, your body finally giving in to violent convulsions. You panted shallowly, your fingers twitching out to reach for something—someone.

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of your body floating steadily in the air, before relief quenched the unbearable burning in your lungs. You blinked blearily, the last of your energy drained as your eyes finally slid shut.

You dreamt of the ocean. Sea mist in your hair and salt water on your lips.

****

Sunlight shone through your lids, making you groan.

Your eyelids fluttered in irritation, before finally blinking open in defeat, giving up on the hope of getting any more sleep.

You were...not in your your room. Your eyes widened as you jolted upright in shock—or, well at least you tried to. An overwhelming throbbing pain across your chest, knees, right forearm and head knocked you flat on your back again, wheezing for air.

The second thing you noticed was the mask on your face, your breath fogging up the clear surface in small puffs. Why were you wearing a mask inside the base? What was going on?

The base collapsing in the fire. Saving the blue alien. Getting knocked unconscious by the explosion. Struggling to breathe—

Your breath shuddered as you brought your left hand up to grasp at your neck at the phantom feelings of suffocation, your fingers drifting upwards to skim the tender bruise at the back of your skull. Your heart hammered frantically in your chest.

Then, if you were here, that meant...

Your head slowly craned over to the other side of the room, a gasp leaving your throat at the sight of your new roommate slumped against the wall.

Now that you were no longer in survival mode, you could truly take in his incredible stature. It was exactly like the stories you'd been told, he had to be at least ten feet tall, if not a little more. Lucky for him though, the ceilings in the storage room were just barely high enough to accommodate him at his full height.

His skin was not the same shade of blue everywhere. You noticed that it was a lighter, sky blue color nearing the center of his body like his torso and his face, and a darker, marine blue color at the extremities. There also seemed to be a distinct stripe like pattern that you were pretty sure was natural for his species. The dark, tattoo-like markings all over his body were a different story of course. The swirling shapes and symbols extended down his biceps and climbed delicately up his neck, but seemed to be the most intricate around his left temple.

Large blue eyes suddenly snapped open, catching your stare with startling intensity. You almost scrambled backwards in a jolt of fear, but caught yourself at the last second, holding carefully still.

You didn't even dare to breathe as he narrowed his eyes at you, making no move to come closer. His right arm hung limply at his side, the blistered skin probably making it very painful to move it at all. Not that you were much better off.

If you were to take a guess, you probably had second degree burns scattered in patches across the front of your body. The only thing keeping the bile in your throat from rising any further was your immobility.

After a few tense moments his gaze flickered away, growing disinterested in your little staring competition. You felt the air escape from your lungs, your tense shoulders loosening in a discreet sigh of relief. Right, you probably didn't register as much of a threat when you were sprawled across the floor like a rag doll.

You turned your gaze back towards the ceiling, staring thoughtfully at the condensation on your mask as you contemplated your situation. The rations you'd found earlier were probably salvageable, being packed safely inside thick bags meant to withstand the elements of Pandora. As for water...well, you were just happy it rained often here. You'd have to find a way to capture the water from the tiny windows much too high for you to reach, but that was a problem for later you. As for now...

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push up to a sitting position. Your eyes watered immediately at the intense burning pain. Okay, no, your pain tolerance wasn't that high. Gritting your teeth, you tried rolling over instead, the stretch of your skin making your jaw clench so hard you were surprised a tooth didn't crack under the pressure.

You were so concentrated on the movement that you didn't feel your stomach roiling tumultuously, or the warm bile climbing up your throat until it was too late. As you pushed yourself up on a shaky arm, your eyes widened as you felt your body violently expel your last meal. You shoved off your mask in the nick of time, turning your head to the side as gunk splattered on the floor next to you in an acrid, chunky pile.

You wiped your face with your good arm, spitting out the residue in your mouth with a grimace. Gross.

The Na'vi was eyeing you in disgust, and you were pretty sure that he would've moved away if he wasn't already sitting as far as he possibly could from you. You returned your own glare. Well, if it weren't for you, he'd currently be an extra crispy dino-sized potato chip, so he shouldn't be complaining about vomit.

Readjusting your mask, you glanced carefully around the room, your gaze sharpening on a first aid kit poking out of a ration bag. Well, patching yourself up was priority number one. You were not looking to deal with an infection on top of second degree burns.

You hissed a breath through your teeth, pushing yourself up on your elbows. Your arms shook from the strain, tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

Twenty feet felt like two miles, and by the time you'd managed to drag yourself across the floor, you were pretty sure forty-five minutes had passed. The whole time, you felt a piercing stare burning into your back. You ignored it, not having the energy for another useless stare down.

Coughing wetly, you grabbed the duffel bag with trembling fingers, pulling it closer to you. It took you a few tries to pull the zipper open, but you finally managed the motion on the fourth try, freeing the white box of medical supplies from its confines.

You undid the clasps, flipping it open carefully. Bandaids, gauze, plasters, soap, alcohol wipes, sterile gloves, tweezers, antibiotic ointment, scissors, needle and thread. Perfect.

Carefully scooting yourself to a seated position and wincing at every tiny agonizing motion, you pulled on the latex gloves with a snap. A muted snarl broke you out of your concentration, making you pause.

Your alien roommate was not a happy camper, judging by his curled upper lip that exposed his giant, bat-like fangs. Okay, that was definitely not good. Those things could probably bite your leg clean off if you weren't careful.

The rumors you heard about his species still very much freaked you out, if you were being honest.

"Hey," you said lowly, raising your gloved hands. You flinched as his snarl grew more intense, eyeing the unnatural blue color on your skin in evident distrust.

Jesus Christ, you'd really done it now, hadn't you? Why couldn't you have just acted like a normal human being with self preservation instincts and only saved yourself? Now you had to deal with...whatever the hell this headache was.

"They're gloves," you emphasized helplessly, knowing that he couldn't understand you but still trying to convey meaning through your tone. "They're harmless, see?" You brought your hands down to pat your shoulders, hiding a wince at the movement. You put on your most convincing (although slightly strained), harmless smile for extra effect. A rogue muscle jumped under your eye.

His glare didn't relent but the hard line of his scowl relaxed a little. Okay rude, what did he even think you were capable of doing in this sorry ass state? Plus, if you wanted him dead you would have just let him be.

Struggling not to roll your eyes, you pointed at one of the nastier burns on your chest, where your shirt was torn to shreds and practically fusing with the reddened, bloody skin. "I'm hurt," you exaggerated the word, widening your eyes meaningfully and frowning. "This will help me heal." You pointed at the contents of the first aid kit, before pointing back at your wound with a raised brow.

The Na'vi snorted at your slowed tone, rolling his shoulder in dismissal before occupying himself with something on a distant wall.

Annoyance surged through you, but it was brief and you let it go quickly with a sigh. Whatever, it was a good thing his suffocating attention was off of you now.

He never turned his back to you though, you noticed. Even now, you could tell he was still keeping tabs on you by the tension in his shoulders.

Well, maybe it was better that he still saw you as somewhat of a threat.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you grabbed a water bottle, soap solution and some gauze, bracing yourself for how much this was going to make you want to shit yourself. And you were pretty sure that the Na'vi would muster up the last of his strength and kill you himself if that actually happened, judging by his utter disgust and displeasure at your vomit.

Wetting a piece of gauze with water and soap, you brought it gingerly to the skin over your collarbone. Striking pain erupted at the point of contact, your jaw flexing to keep in any sounds.

Patting the gauze lower, you couldn't help but screech at the utter agony of it connecting with your open wound. Fuckity fuck fuck, that hurt like bitch on steroids.

When you blinked away the confetti in your vision, you caught the Na'vi's alarmed gaze, the space where his eyebrows should have been now furrowed and pointed ears pricked up and facing you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you muttered under your breath, before gritting your teeth as you forced your trembling hands to press the gauze pad over the rest of your wound. It took awhile and several rolls, but now every wound was cleaned, dressed, and if needed—stitched. Your head still throbbed uncontrollably in what was most definitely a nasty concussion, but you couldn't really ice it like you wanted to. By the time you were done, the sun had already started to set in the sky.

Your stomach rumbled in protest, and you grimaced. The intense pain had made you forget that you unfortunately needed sustenance to survive.

Time to take stock of your supply.

You dug through the duffle bag on your side, pulling out MRE kits and other field rations. You also found some plastic utensils and more water bottles and filters. Some of them were weirdly misshaped though, probably warped from the heat of the explosion.

You discarded those ones to the side with a frown. What a waste.

Ripping open an MRE pack, you mourned your microwave as you took a bite of room temperature tortellini. You just hoped that those in charge of the outer ring of base 36 came to your rescue sooner rather than later.

The rapidly familiarizing feeling of a piercing stare on you caused you to look up, your gaze locking onto narrowed baby blues. But they looked more curious than distrustful, this time.

You held up your meal pack, gesturing at him. "You want some?" You shook it in his direction meaningfully. "It's good." Lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Like most other living creatures, you were 99% sure he needed to eat to stay alive. And as far as you knew, he'd eaten nothing since you were both trapped. As long as he didn't try to eat you, you didn't mind sharing your rations. There was still quite a lot left, and you were pretty hopeful sure your fellow humans would have paid you a visit before you inevitably ran out.

His eyes widened minutely at the package, and you could see the barest predatory flash in his widening pupils, before he huffed, shooting you a disgusted look.

Your raised hand lowered as you gave him a deadpanned look. What a brat. Whatever, you shrugged, taking a quick breath as you lifted your mask. More for you then.

It was not even thirty minutes later that you realized your second dilemma.

That being, you had to tinkle. Real bad.

Goddamnit, this was embarrassing. You chanced a grimacing look at your companion, who was once again busy staring at a wall, but one ear was still turned towards you. No matter how weird this situation was, you had no desire to contribute to that factor by getting naked in front of a volatile, giant blue alien.

But you were nothing if not resourceful.

Goodbye, dignity, you sighed as you began hoisting yourself behind the pile of supplies and duffel bags you'd both stacked to take cover from the fire. You felt the Na'vi's wary gaze on you as you moved, but he hadn't felt the need to come and investigate, which you counted as a blessing.

Grabbing one of the warped water bottles, you poured out the toxic liquid on the concrete, before getting into position. Closing your eyes, you tried your hardest to pretend that you weren't trapped in a room with a strange alien man less than twenty feet away from you. You pictured your small, but warm toned bathroom, your toiletries lined neatly on the counter and a painting hanging over the towel rack.

Pretty soon you felt sweet relief as your aching bladder finally emptied its contents into the bottle. Your eyes blinked open, and you quickly cleaned yourself up, grimacing in embarrassment and disgust as you screwed back on the lid to the bottle and shoved it away from sight.

Well, that was over with.

By now, the room was bathed only in moon and starlight, the walls almost taking up a luminescence you would never be privy to on earth.

Your expression soured at the thought of your home planet. You didn't typically enjoy revisiting those memories, mostly because they were tainted with constant misery. The ashy smoke in the air, the dirt on your skin, the pangs of hunger deep into the night—you didn't want to think about it. You were far, far away from that life.

Although, you weren't quite sure if your current situation was much better.

With a wince, you scooted forward, peeking curiously around your makeshift wall of privacy. The Na'vi was curled on his side, still facing you, but now—surprisingly, his eyes had drifted shut, his expression finally peaceful in slumber. You held your breath, taking a moment to admire him.

Now that you weren't actively fearing for your life, you could really appreciate the wild beauty of this planet's native humanoid species. He looked like a mythical creature from a fantasy story, aqua blue skin shining like the glimmering shallow waters on a beach under the sunlight. You blinked a couple of times in shock, resisting the urge to rub them. No—wait, he was actually glowing.

At first you had thought it was the moonlight shining on his skin, but he seemed to be generating his own variation of bioluminescence instead. A beacon of otherworldly beauty, just like the rest of Pandora.

Incredible, you thought to yourself in awe, unable to look away. Your fingers itched with the sudden urge to start sketching him.

Suddenly, a pale, opalescent eye snapped open, glaring at you furiously. You yelped, almost falling backwards on your elbows.

His lip curled to reveal a snarl, his ears pinning down flat against his head in warning and his thick tail whipping restlessly in the air. The message was clear: mind your own business before I come over there and gouge your tiny eyes out. I'll do it—

"Okay, okay," you sighed, raising your hands in surrender. "I get it, I'm leaving."

You scooted away, back into your little alcove of duffel bags and random burnt junk. Lowering yourself onto the fluffiest looking one, you sighed, squirming uncomfortably as you stared at the scorched ceiling.

It didn't take long before your blinks became heavier and more frequent, your eyelids lowering more with each one. It seemed you were more exhausted that you thought.

When your breathing finally evened out, it was to the distinct feeling of a strong, steady heartbeat thrumming beneath you.

************

Y'all, I had way too much fun writing Ao'nung's pissy attitude XD. I can't picture his aggressive side eye without cracking up. Don't worry though, he'll eventually come around ;)

MRE: Meals ready to eat. Packaged meals meant for quick, convenient consumption. Used in the military.

If you’re not in the taglist already and you’d like to be, just let me know in the comments and I’ll tag you in the next part :)

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years

Text

Heart of Fire - Azriel x Reader Request

Hiii! A lil fluff request by @charlottewelshshit - hope this is okay for you love<;3

could you do one where the reader is the second eldest archeron sister, she has powers because of the cauldron and Azriel and her are mates please. If It ends in fluff It would be great. Thank you very much <3

Warnings: None.

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Breaking point.

You were truly, utterly at breaking point.

You didn’t know what was different about that day. Each of them, of late, had been a blur of anger and longing swirling and melding into one. Anger at your situation. Longing for some semblance of normality.

But that day—that day, you just knew you would break.

And the trigger was right there before you. Your youngest and eldest sister bickering across the dinner table.

It was no different to when you’d been mortals—Nesta wielding sharp words and Feyre biting back. You didn’t even know what they were arguing about. But these days, it was more than just you and Elain who bore witness to it. The entire Inner Circle watched and held their tongues as Nesta and Feyre tore verbal chunks out of each other.

You just…didn’t get it. Didn’t get how, when you’d been shoved into the Cauldron, had your mortality and your prospects of a normal life ripped from you, they could still find such pathetic, petty things to squabble over. As if you weren’t sat right there, trapped in a life you never gods-damned asked for.

“If you don’t like it, Nesta,” Feyre sniped. “You don’t have to come. Stay home, read your novels, I don’t care.”

You gripped onto your fork, feeling the metal bend out of shape in your palm. Your eyes were pinned, unseeing, to the white table linen.

“Well.” Nesta’s jaw set, sarcasm drenching her tone. “Thank you so much for your permission, High Lady.”

“Do not,” Rhys chimed in, his voice like steel, “use Feyre’s title to condescend to her.”

The fork clattered from your hand. You were going to tip this fucking table over, tear the room apart. Your anger was growing, shaping into its own being.

“Stay out of it, Rhysand.” Nesta spat at your brother-in-law.

You snapped. Totally fucking snapped.

“That’s enough!” You shouted, and your voice was the most horrifying thing you’d ever heard. Like ice and heat, and wind and rain, old and young. It wasn’t you.

But the voice was nothing — nothing — against the physical impact of your anger. Like a storm had swept through the room, the tableware was sent flying on a phantom wind, plates and bowls smashing against the walls, knives and forks imbedding in furniture, drinks spilling all over the place.

And as quickly as it had raged through, it stopped. Anything flying through the air clattered to the floor, and silence cloaked the room. Everyone blinked up at you.

“…my food.” Mor frowned down at the empty space her plate had been sat in.

But it was Cassian you were staring at, guilt immediately choking you. He dislodged a fork from the back of his hand, the wound already healing, the blood already drying. He seemed stunned — and impressed.

You immediately stepped towards him, reaching out as if you could do—something. “Oh, gods, Cassian—”

You could feel it…feel yourself breaking on the inside. If you didn’t get out of there, you would cry, or scream, or maybe stab a fork into your own hand.

“I’m fine.” Cassian promised. “No harm done.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, stepping away from the table. “So sorry.”

You hurried from the room, every bit of you trembling, a cold sweat breaking out over your skin. How were you supposed to live like this? You were a danger — to yourself, and to everyone around you. Everyone you loved.

You staggered to a stop in the garden, bracing your hands against the solid surface of a wall. Tried to calm your breathing. You were so, so angry at the way things had become. What kind of curse was this that the Cauldron had bestowed on you? The ability to feel every damn emotion so strongly it would rip you apart from the inside? And the emotions of others too? You couldn’t live a life of being battered by feelings, couldn’t—

“Y/N.” The voice behind you was soft, gentle.

So heartbreakingly gentle. You felt a tear roll down your cheek.

“Y/N.” Azriel said again, stopping just behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright—”

“How can it possibly be alright, Az?” You rounded on him. There — there was that flare of emotion again. You tried to swallow it down, to steady your breathing. Your voice broke as you said, “How will this ever be alright?”

Azriel’s eyes were soft as they studied you. There no was judgement in them, none of the anger you thought you deserved from him and everyone else after your outburst. Just…kindness. Understanding. Affection.

“It’s not your fault.” He took a step closer. “It will get better.”

A wry laugh fell from your lips. “It will get worse, Azriel. Way worse. I’m completely out of control. You saw what happened in there. What if…what if next time, it’s more than just an injury to the hand? What if I kill someone because I can’t control how I’m feeling?”

His full lips pursed as he studied you. You were suddenly an open book, and he was reading all the thoughts, all the feelings, you’d tried to keep hidden since you'd emerged from the Cauldron as a fae. Each one was tumbling out now.

“You have to stop seeing it as a curse—as a weakness.” He said. “You have to be kinder to yourself. To train and hone it as you would any other power.”

“Power.” You barked another laugh. “Is that what it is? Why couldn’t I have just become a Seer like Elain? Why am I stuck with some damn power that turns emotions into weapons?”

Az was staring at you again, his brow furrowed. You didn’t know what that look meant. The two of you had been growing closer since you’d moved to Velaris, a connection between you definitely blossoming and manifesting in subtle touches and glances — but maybe that was all about to change. Maybe he was seeing you for the liability you’d become.

He took another step closer — and then slowly, gently, took your hand in his. The warmth of it was soothing, like a droplet of calm in a vast ocean of chaos. With such careful movements, he tugged you with him, and sat down with you on a nearby bench.

“Do you know when I first realised you were someone special?” He asked quietly, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of your palm.

You frowned, shaking your head. Someone special—that was what he thought of you?

“It was when you were still human. Way before you were dragged into that Cauldron.” His eyes scanned your face. “When Feyre brought us to your estate in the human lands, seeking your help. You were the only one who wasn’t scared of us or rude to us. Nesta and Elain retired to bed that night, but you stayed up and talked to us. Helped us write the letter to the human queens.”

You remembered — of course you did. Because you couldn’t deny the excitement you felt that might, to have three brilliant, breathtaking fae males in your home. Nesta would have throttled you if she’d known that you’d stayed awake and chatted with Feyre and the Illyrians well into the early hours.

And you’d been utterly enamoured with Azriel right from the very beginning. But you hadn’t considered that he may have seen you as anything other than a plain, human woman.

His fingers laced between yours, dragging you back to the present. “That night,” He said, “We told you all about Amarantha—what she’d done to our kind. The horrors that everyone trapped Under the Mountain had suffered. And even though you’d been taught to fear us…even though you didn’t know us…you cried for us. For our pain and our suffering. You didn’t hesitate to volunteer your help in any way we needed it. And I knew—I knew then that you were something special. Because most people can’t feel emotions the way you feel them. On such a deep level.”

You didn’t realise you were crying again until a teardrop fell onto your lap. Azriel reached out his other hand, gently wiping your cheek with his thumb.

“You mustn’t fear yourself, Y/N.” He whispered. “You should be proud of that fire in your heart. To feel so freely…to empathise with others…it’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

The dam on your tears broke, and Azriel tugged you closer as they flowed free—months and months of pent-up emotion being expelled from your body, your heart.

Suddenly, you were in Az’s lap, his arms wrapped around you. He rocked you through your shuddering sobs, his hand stroking your back. His shadows coiled around you, wiping your tears with feather-light touches.

“You’re brilliant.” Az murmured in your ear, his lips brushing the lobe. “And you’re going to be okay. We’ll be okay–together.”

You pulled back just slightly — just enough to look at him, to meet his eyes. There was pure truth shining there — he truly, thoroughly believed his own words.

And if he could…surely you could, too.

Your eyes flickered to his lips. So wonderful, this male. So quiet and sensitive and real. Your anger was quickly dissipating and being replaced with another emotion. One that was far more pleasant and tasted like winter berries and warmth.

You loved him. You were in love with the Shadowsinger.

“You…you feel it too, don’t you?” You glanced at his lips again. “This…bond between us.”

His answering nod was strong – sure. “I do…I always have. But even more since the Cauldron. I think I’ve always known that you…that you’re my mate.”

Mate. The word sang in your head. You’d seen the bond between Feyre and Rhys…that unbreakable, invisible thing that tethered them together so passionately. Had you truly been lucky enough to have found the same thing? And with a brilliant male like Azriel, no less?

And if you had…maybe the Cauldron hadn’t damned you so terribly like you’d thought. Maybe you could weather the bad to have the good. To have him.

Your mate.

It only took that thought, that realisation, to spur you on. Azriel watched you as you leaned closer, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. You tentatively brushed your lips against his, giving him a moment to pull away, to change his mind.

But it was he who closed that gap and kissed you properly.

It was both firm and gentle, a soft kiss as he moved his hand from your back to cradle the back of your head, his fingers twisting within your hair. The reciprocation gave you the confidence you needed to push a bit further — you pulled him against you and nipped his bottom lip, slipping your tongue into his mouth as it opened on a gasp.

Kissing him was like being home. Just…just right. You wanted to do this forever, feel this forever. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if you pulled back and found yourself literally glowing.

His tongue danced around yours, his lips working utter magic. Only when the two of you were huffing breaths did you both pull away, and a smile tugged at Azriel’s lips.

“That,” He said, kissing you once, “is my favourite emotion.”

You couldn’t help mirroring his smile, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. This was how you wanted to feel. Forever.

Maybe things really could be okay.

It certainly seemed that way as Azriel leaned in and kissed you again.

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darth-mortem · 8 months

Text

My friend @g8se transleted several of my COD fanfics into English. This is one of them.

ATTENTION: This fic contains Call of Duty MW3 spoilers.

Having buried Johnny, Ghost no longer wants to live. He tries to commit suicide, but at the last moment, a real miracle saves him. From that moment on, this miracle accompanies Ghost throughout his long and stressful life. 4172 words.

Post-canon, fix-it, angst, hurt/comfort, love

When the wind carried Johnny's ashes over the mountains of Scotland, Ghost finally realized that he was gone. There would be no more of his radiant smile, no more cheerful banter and jokes during missions. Ghost would never hear his voice again, feel the touch of his hands and tender lips, or run his fingers through his ridiculous mohawk. The opportunity to say what Simon hadn't had the chance to say, thinking he would do it later someday, was now gone. Simon himself was no more, having died in the underground with Johnny. Now, only Ghost remained, who would never again remove his mask.

You can read on Ao3 or here:

All the way to the small motel where the three members of Task Force 141 had stopped, Ghost remained silent. He didn't utter a word, even when they were sipping from a bottle of whiskey, reminiscing about their fallen comrade. "Rest in peace, Johnny" were the last words Ghost heard from Price and Gaz. The latter looked at the lieutenant with concern, but Ghost seemed oblivious. He sat, staring into space, seemingly not hearing anything that the other two soldiers were saying as they remembered Johnny. When the bottle emptied, and it was time to go to their rooms, Ghost quietly stood up and, without even attempting to say goodbye, went to his own room.

Price and Gaz stopped in the room next to him. For a while, Ghost could hear their muffled voices, and then everything fell silent. He then stood up, pulled another bottle from his backpack, and placed it on the table by the window. Next to it, he placed his pistol.

Ghost didn't know how to express emotions, but now, after a significant amount of alcohol on an empty stomach, he felt that he could no longer take all the pain that was literally tearing him apart from the inside. His hand, that was clutching the glass, trembled, and burning tears rolled from his eyes, washing away the black face paint, and soaking the fabric of his balaclava.

Ghost cried silently. His shoulders shook, he breathed convulsively, tears blurred his eyes, but not a sound escaped his chest. The whiskey was already starting to make his head spin; reality swayed and blurred, but he still finished the bottle, set it aside, and reached for the pistol.

His fingers instinctively gripped the handle. Ghost automatically checked the magazine, removed the fuse, and racked the slide. Price and Gaz talked about revenge, but the lieutenant knew that it would bring him neither comfort nor solace. Even if he burned the damn world down, it wouldn't bring Johnny back. He didn't care whether Makarov lived or died in agony. Johnny was gone. If he was now in a better place, Ghost didn't believe in Heavens, he would still not care about the damn revenge, to the futile attempts of those still alive to give his death some meaning.

Ghost's lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't, even now, when his hand already raised the weapon. He pressed the muzzle of the pistol to his temple and closed his eyes. His finger rested on the trigger. He could no longer and did not want to live. Not after his restless Johnny, the glimmer of warm light in Task Force 141, finally managed to see beyond Ghost's skull mask; managed to bring him to the surface; helped him remember what it was like to be human. Not after the indifferent and cold piece of lead took away that warmth and light, in an instant destroying all the careful and uncertain dreams that Ghost might still have some life left. That maybe, someday, Simon would take over, and then he would take off the mask and walk away from the army with Johnny, leaving all this behind for the sake of simple and quiet human happiness.

Ghost's finger began to slowly pull the trigger when suddenly someone's strong hand seized the pistol by the barrel and yanked it towards them, pulling it from his palm. The lieutenant opened his eyes, expecting to see Sergeant Garrick or Captain Price in front of him, but...

Johnny stood before him. The gaze of a seasoned soldier immediately noticed the absence of the scar on his chin, the wrinkles that had appeared on his face a few years ago despite his youth. Johnny was dressed in jeans, a dark blue t-shirt, and his usual sand-coloured armour, and behind him, his wings shone with a warm yellowish light, immense and incredibly beautiful.

"What’re ye doing!" Johnny exclaimed, stepping forward and clenching his fists. "Don't ye dare! I won't let ye!"

And he rushed toward Ghost, embracing him tightly. His wings curved around him, sheltering the lieutenant from the whole world, immersing him in an endless ocean of warm and gentle light. It delicately touched the bleeding wounds on Simon's soul; tiny rays pierced through the armour of sorrow and despair; it touched the heart; it took him as if with tender invisible hands, touches that bestowed healing and peace.

All of this turned out to be too much for Ghost. His fingers slid powerlessly over Johnny's shoulders, which seemed so real and tangible, and then his weary consciousness left him, and he hung limply in the arms of someone whom just a few hours ago he considered absolutely and eternally lost.

One-four-one should have been heading back to base as soon as possible, but Captain Price didn't wake up the lieutenant, wanting to give him a chance to get some sleep. He and Kyle had breakfast together at the café near the motel, hardly speaking, only occasionally glancing anxiously through the window towards the door of the lieutenant's room.

Ghost woke up late, with a very heavy head. He vaguely remembered last night, and lying in bed with his eyes closed, he couldn't gather his thoughts together and understand what had happened. He distinctly remembered planning to shoot himself. The lieutenant had made that decision when he hugged Johnny's cold, lifeless body in the helicopter on the way to the base. He knew that instincts wouldn't allow him to do it, so he deliberately got heavily drunk to dull them. And when he was ready, when he felt the chill of the gun barrel even through the fabric of his balaclava, something happened.

He saw Johnny.

Of course, Ghost knew that it was just an illusion. The response of an overtired brain to lack of sleep, food, an excessive dose of alcohol. But Johnny looked so real that Ghost still felt, with his hands, how he touched him.

Opening his eyes, the lieutenant saw a ceiling with cracked whitewash above him. He swallowed a bitter lump that had formed in his throat and slowly raised himself on his elbows, intending to get up and go to the shower, but...

Johnny was sitting on his bed, on the unoccupied half, his legs crossed, looking at Ghost with a slightly sad but still shining smile. Seeing that the lieutenant had woken up, he immediately got up, approached, and embraced him, making him lay back on the bed again.

"Never ever do that again!" Johnny exclaimed furiously, leaning over Ghost, and looking into his eyes. "Ye can't die now, ye understand? Yer time has not come yet!"

"I've lost my mind completely," Ghost thought, looking into Johnny's bright blue eyes.

"Not at all," he smiled cheerfully, then gently stroked Ghost's cheek, slipping his hand under his balaclava. "Ye weren't supposed to see me at all, tis against the rules and all that, but when ‘ave we ever followed the rules, huh?"

"Johnny?" Ghost whispered almost silently, his lips barely moving, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes again.

"That's right!" he replied cheerfully, then leaned in, lying on the lieutenant's chest and gently traced his fingers over the exposed part of Ghost's face in the opening of his balaclava. "Ye asked me if I'm with ye, and I said ye already know the answer. Even death won't change that. Ye protected me, love, and now it's my turn. I wuldnae disappear; I'll be with you all your life. And then, when yer time comes, I'll take ye by the hand, and we'll go together where there's no more war, no fear, pain, cruelty, or death – only light and love. There, we won't have to part anymore, and we'll be together forever."

"Johnny..." Ghost whispered. "This isn’t an illusion? Are you really here?"

"I really am here, Simon," Johnny replied and looked into his eyes. "I loved ye so much in life that the ones up there wouldn't dare tae separate us even after my death. So now I'm sort of your guardian angel. Cool, huh? But keep in mind, no one but ye’ll be able to see or hear me. It won't be easy, but..."

"I love you too," Simon interrupted and embraced Johnny, pressing him to his chest, feeling the warmth and weight of his body and his breath on his neck. "Even if I really lost my mind and I'm hallucinating – I don't care. It's better this way than without you."

"Then get up," Johnny laughed cheerfully. "Cap’s already waiting for ye."

On the way to the base, Price and Gaz no longer could hide their concerned looks towards Ghost. He still didn't say a word, his eyes constantly staring into emptiness, not focusing on anything specific.

Deciding to give the lieutenant some time, captain Price quietly ordered Kyle not to bother Ghost as well. They hoped their friend would pull himself together, but everything got only worse. Riley continued to remain silent, responding to all questions with nods, head tilts, or shrugs. However, this only applied to cases when someone living and real addressed him. Several times, the lieutenant was noticed in remote corners of the base muttering something to himself, yet again staring into emptiness with the insane gaze of his dark eyes. Laswell even hinted to Price that it wouldn't hurt to send Riley for a psychiatric evaluation or therapy. The captain, though reluctant, was ready to agree, as he himself had noticed that Riley had become too strange. But unexpectedly, Makarov's trace appeared, and the one-four-one had to move quickly in that direction.

Time was short, yet Price managed to carve out a moment to talk one-on-one with Ghost. Sending Gaz to check the helicopter's readiness, the captain called the lieutenant over, took him by the shoulders, and shook him slightly, forcing him to pay attention.

"Simon," he said, "tell me you're okay, because I need your cool head and your combat skills right now."

Behind Price, Johnny was clowning around. He was making faces and, holding an imaginary microphone, sang very off-key:

“Don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing!”

"Simon!" Price raised his tone a bit, noticing that he was once again staring somewhere past him.

"I'm okay," the lieutenant finally replied calmly, and as his eyes narrowed in the skull-mask eye sockets, Price understood that he was smiling.

Everything proceeded as usual. The remnants of Task Force 141, with support from Kate Laswell, tried to catch the elusive Makarov, who kept evading them, leaving traps, bombs, dangerous chemicals, and other things behind that could harm both his pursuers and civilians. Ghost's strange behaviour persisted, but during missions, he remained a professional as before, so Price abandoned thoughts of treating him. Lieutenant Riley was needed in combat, and besides, he had the most right to seek revenge.

As for Ghost, at some point, he got himself a Bluetooth headset, and rumours about the Lieutenant from 141 going crazy and talking to himself started to gradually die down. Even Gaz relaxed and stopped closely monitoring Ghost. Only Captain Price remained concerned because he knew well that Simon had no one to talk to on the phone.

The first episode occurred during one of the missions. Task Force 141 encountered overwhelming enemy forces. Ghost and Gaz had to retreat to the evacuation point under Price's cover, who coordinated them, lying with a sniper rifle at a considerable distance. The two soldiers managed to obtain the necessary information, but now they had to somehow get it outside the territory of the enemy base.

The hard drive was in Garrick's hands, and Ghost understood that now the sergeant's life was a priority due to his valuable cargo. Ordering Gaz to go first, the lieutenant covered him, trying not to fall too far behind. He no longer had grenades and throwing knives, and he had just loaded the last magazine into his assault rifle. After, there would only be a pistol - a fifteen-round Beretta, one magazine of which was half-empty, and the other lay in the pocket. Ghost knew that this wouldn't be enough for the retreat, but he didn't worry because Johnny was circling above him, spreading his wings.

Price, who was watching his boys through the optic sight, saw how Ghost suddenly stopped and looked up, and then both he and Garrick clearly heard his words.

"Yes, Johnny," Lieutenant Riley said, "let's give it a try."

"Ghost!" Price shouted into the microphone of his radio, but it was already too late.

Riley darted off to the side, drawing the enemy's attention to himself. The captain understood that his top priority now was to protect Garrick with the information, but he couldn't help keeping an eye on Riley. He ran along a broad path, responding to the enemy's actions so precisely and accurately, as if someone was guiding him.

"Not 'someone'," Price thought, "it’s Soap." Only with Sergeant MacTavish did Ghost work so seamlessly, as if there was a special connection between them on a level that’s superior to others.

"Go!" Johnny ordered sharply, and Ghost leaped from his cover toward the next one, gripping his assault rifle. "To the right! Drop! Move!"

Riley sprinted, following these short commands, and Soap, from the height of his flight, saw everything, not missing a single bullet fired towards the lieutenant.

Later, when all three were in the helicopter, having obtained what they came for, Price looked at Ghost, who was sitting relaxed across from him, as if someone was leaning against him, resting their head on his right shoulder.

"That was quite a run," the captain finally said.

Ghost raised slowly his head, looked at Price through the openings of his mask, and replied briefly:

"Thank you, captain."

Kyle became a witness to the second episode. Then everything happened very quickly: a fragmentation grenade was thrown at them, and the sergeant managed to fall for cover, but the lieutenant did not. Gaz got up almost immediately, overpowering the disgusting squeal in his ears, and he saw Ghost rising from the ground completely unharmed.

"How did you survive?" Kyle asked in amazement. "The shrapnel had cut everything around you!"

"Luck," Ghost replied shortly and, shaking his head, added, "let’s go!"

Of course, Gaz could not know that a mere second before the explosion, Johnny pushed Riley to the ground and fell on top of him, covering them both with his wings. The fragments bounced off the shining orange feathers, and Ghost remained unharmed.

There were also less obvious things. For instance, Lieutenant Riley, who used to grumble about smoking to all the soldiers of the 141, sometimes even to Captain Price, began smoking himself. Moreover, he chose the same cigarettes that Soap preferred. Also now, he could often be seen munching on chocolate chip cookies, which Johnny loved. Furthermore, he now quite frequently preferred sweetened coffee. Garrick and Price closely observed these peculiarities but didn't attempt to ask any questions, knowing that Ghost wouldn't answer.

"I feel the same as you do," Johnny once said, as always walking to the right of Riley, who was heading to the mess hall. "So, when ye kiss me, I feel it twice as keenly as ye do. When ye drink whiskey or that disgusting stuff of yours, I taste it."

"Where are you leading with this?" Ghost asked, and they turned to look at him, but upon seeing the blue light of the Bluetooth headset, lost interest.

"I wantae taste the flavour of a burger, chips, ‘n’ my favourite biscuits!" Johnny exclaimed, and the feathers on his wings stood on end. "I wantae remember what it's like tae smoke a cigarette with coffee!"

"Okay," Ghost replied calmly and turned towards the cafeteria, where all of this could be bought.

Gradually, everyone got used to Lieutenant Riley's strange new behaviour, and even comrades-in-arms stopped paying special attention to it. In the 141, they recruited a new soldier, and eventually, they found and killed Makarov, avenging their fallen comrade and saving the world from the Russian villain. After that, Price, Garrick, and Riley gathered again on the hill where almost a year ago, they scattered the ashes of their deceased comrade.

"Now you can truly rest in peace, soldier," Price said, looking into the distance where the sun was setting behind the mountains.

Ghost smiled under his balaclava and glanced to the right, where Johnny stood beside him.

"I can't say I'm not glad that we killed that bastard," Soap said, hugging Ghost and extending his wing around him.

Though the battle continued. One threat was eliminated, but there were still many others that the soldiers of Task Force 141 had to deal with. Without much enthusiasm, Lieutenant Riley accepted a new soldier, though he still preferred to work alone. Meanwhile, rumours began circulating at the base that Ghost was invincible. Of course, he occasionally got injured, spent time in the hospital, but much more often he got off with a whole skin from the worst, almost hopeless situations.

Years passed. The cast of the unit changed from time to time, and eventually, Price retired, with Major Riley taking his place. Now young soldiers were telling legends about his invulnerability and the discussions of this strange phenomenon never ceased.

"He’s definitely guarded by some higher power," Gaz once said, when the entire 141 was in the rec room after another hellish mission. "Some kind of angel."

"Or a demon," another soldier said thoughtfully.

Ghost just smiled and looked, as it seemed to everyone, into emptiness at an empty chair pushed away as if someone had been sitting in it.

Major Riley retired when he turned sixty. They tried to persuade him to stay and take a staff position or become an instructor, but shuffling papers or dealing with young recruits wasn't what he wanted. Leaving the army, Ghost went to Wales, where he settled on the coast, having bought an old, non-functional lighthouse for a song. He personally restored it, turning it into a cozy home, far enough from people so that no one would disturb him.

Finally, peace settled in the soul of the old soldier. He fulfilled his military duty and left the ranks, making way for the young. In the village where he went for supplies, they called him Major Riley, but he felt the identity that made him a soldier, a Ghost, gradually fading away.

Simon still woke up early, but now he allowed himself to linger in the cozy bed – too big for one, but he wasn't alone. Johnny was with him, covering them both with his wing, and they talked or just stayed silent, listening to the sound of the waves coming in through the open window.

Johnny hadn't changed at all. He was just as young-looking as when he died, as Simon first saw him again. His happy smile and charming blue eyes still shone when he looked at him. Riley aged slowly, keeping himself in shape, his body hardly changing, except for his hair turning completely grey, and wrinkles lining his face. Old scars had faded, becoming less noticeable, and Simon gradually swapped his balaclava for a buff with the same skull print. However, now he only wore it when he went to the village or when old friends visited – Price, whom he now simply called John, and Kyle.

"Let's buy a boat," Johnny suggested once, as they stood together on the top balcony of the lighthouse, accessible from the lantern room. "It's strange to live by the sea and not have a boat."

"Are we going fishing?" Simon asked, leaning against the metal railing as he smoked.

"Yes!" Johnny exclaimed happily, embracing him.

One day, Ghost received a call from Gaz with the sad news that Price had passed away. He died peacefully in his sleep, seemingly finding peace and tranquillity at the end of his chaotic life. With no family, Kyle and Simon took care of everything. Simon subconsciously hoped to see John when they picked up the urn with his ashes and drove to the Scottish mountains to scatter them, as Price had written in his will, but it didn't happen.

"He had no unfinished business," Johnny said when Ghost and Gaz stood on the hill, watching the wind carry the ashes of their former captain high into the sky. "He went straight to a better place. We'll meet him there when your time comes."

"Kyle," Simon looked at his friend and saw tears in his eyes, "I might go before you. I'd like my ashes to be scattered here too."

"Okay," Garrick wiped his face with his sleeve and looked at Riley. "Just let it be not too soon, alright?"

"Alright," Johnny replied cheerfully instead of Ghost, "You can count on me!"

Simon lived to the age of eighty-three. He didn't fall ill and preserved his strength and military discipline until the end. However, one day he began to feel that his time was running out. This feeling grew stronger, reaching its peak when he and Johnny sat on the shore, watching the sunset – the stern old man with a perfectly straight back and absolutely white hair, and the young cheerful guy with huge, orange wings radiating warm and gentle light.

"What do you think, Johnny," Simon spoke, lighting a cigarette, "did I live a good life?"

"A mighty good one," he replied, leaning his head on Simon's shoulder. "Ye saved many innocent lives and defeated much evil. Ye found peace here, at the edge of the world. And ye were a ray of light in my life."

"Odd," Simon smiled sadly and ran his fingers through Johnny's hair, "I always thought the ray of light was you."

They fell silent for a moment, watching as the red sun dipped into the sea, leaving glimmers of its light on the water. Simon stubbed out the cigarette in the sand, briefly closed his eyes, and asked:

"My time is coming, isn't it?"

"Aye," Johnny didn't argue and hugged him even tighter, shielding him from the cold wind with his wing. "But there's no need to be afraid. It won't hurt, love. You'll just fall asleep."

"And then you'll take me by the hand and lead me to a better place?" Simon asked, feeling a bitter lump rising in his throat and his eyes stinging with tears.

"Aye," Johnny replied again. "We'll go there together, and there will be no more pain or death."

"And we'll be together forever," Simon whispered, squeezing the warm hand of his guardian with his cold fingers.

A few days later, in the village, Simon and Johnny stood in front of the newspaper stand and looked at the page with obituaries. One of them was about the retired Major Riley, who lived in the lighthouse and was found dead on the beach near his home.

"They wrote so many good words about ye," Johnny said, playfully nudging Simon in the side.

He stood beside him – once again young, without scars, without the burden of the horrors of the past on his shoulders, and behind him were folded, shining snow-white wings. He wore his uniform and gear, but no mask. It was no longer needed.

"Odd," Simon replied, and he smiled perplexedly. "I didn't really talk to anyone here."

This time, on the hill amid the Scottish mountains, Kyle Garrick stood, thinking he was alone. He held an urn with ashes in his hands, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I'll miss you, Simon," he said with a trembling voice, "all of you, guys."

Ghost and Soap, standing to the right and left of him, exchanged glances, and Simon placed his hand on Kyle's shoulder, but, of course, he felt nothing.

"Ye'll join us when yer time comes," Johnny spoke. "Yer children will bring your ashes here, as ye wrote in yer will, and we'll meet ye up there."

Ghost looked up at the sky, where Johnny had pointed, and saw that the clouds had parted, and through this opening, bright warm light shone.

"Is it time for us to go?" Ghost asked.

"Aye, sir," Soap replied.

Johnny approached Simon, took him by the hand, they spread their wings, and slowly started to ascend into the sky, towards their home waiting for them beyond the bright light.

* Aerosmith «I don't wanna miss a thing»

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