#sequel: shadowed dreams

[ilovolderman]

Almost Caught

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You sneak out with Bucky for a secret date and almost get caught.

Word Count: 723

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, lying to friends (for romance reasons!)

A/N: this is kind of a sequel to "you said what?" — it’s the same vibe, same chaotic energy, but it can totally be read on its own! just think of it as part of the same soft universe 💕 hope you enjoy this <3

You never thought your most romantic date would start with crawling out of a window and jumping two stories down into Bucky’s arms—right behind the dumpsters.

“I can’t believe this is how we have to go out,” you whisper, pulling your hoodie tighter.

Bucky grins at you, eyes sparkling. “Come on. You love the danger. Sneaking out like spies.”

You roll your eyes— but he’s right. You do kind of love it. Especially when he leans in and kisses you, right there in the alley, his hand cupping your jaw like you’re the best thing he’s ever held.

The two of you walk a few blocks, laughing quietly, until you reach the rooftop of an old bakery. It’s not fancy, but it’s cozy. Your spot. The stars are out tonight, the sky clear and dark, and it feels like something out of a dream.

Bucky opens a bag he brought with him. “Ta-da.”

You peek inside. Burgers. Fries. Milkshakes. From that place you both secretly love, Cheesy Billy’s Burgers, but refuse to tell the team about, because Tony called it culinary war crime once.

You sit side by side, your legs swinging over the edge of the roof. You eat, you talk, and you laugh so hard you almost choke on your soda. Bucky watches you with that soft look of his, like you’re the most important thing in the universe. Like the stars are nice, sure—but not better than you.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, “if we didn’t have to sneak around like teenagers—”

“We’d still come here,” you say, nudging his foot with yours. “This is our spot.”

He smiles and leans closer. “Yeah. Our spot.”

And he kisses you. Soft, slow, perfect. The kind that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Then—

You hear voices below. Familiar ones.

“Wait—this is where they get the good fries?” Sam says. “Why have we never been here?”

You both freeze.

You slowly peek over the edge of the roof. Sam and Peter are standing below, staring at the bakery’s glowing sign.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “We’re gonna get caught. On our date night. While eating greasy fries.”

Bucky’s already stuffing fries in his mouth. “I’m not giving these up.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious right now?!”

“I have priorities,” he mumbles around a fry.

You both scramble to hide. Bucky throws his hoodie over your head like a blanket and pulls you into the shadows. You’re both giggling, trying to be quiet. Bucky looks like he’s having the time of his life.

Below, Sam looks up for a second, squinting. “…Did you hear something?”

Peter shrugs. “Maybe a raccoon?”

You whisper, “We are the raccoons.”

Somehow, you manage to escape without being seen.

Back at the compound, breathless and laughing in the hallway, Bucky presses you against the wall and kisses you again.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “I’m buying us disguises.”

“…Like wigs?”

He grins. “I was thinking matching mustaches.”

You snort-laugh so hard, someone passing by stares at you suspiciously.

In the next morning , you’re minding your business in the common room, nursing a coffee, when you hear “Yo, Bucky… since when do you eat at Cheesy Billy’s Burgers?”

Your stomach drops.

You turn just in time to see Sam waving a greasy, crumpled receipt like it’s evidence in a murder case.

“Found this in your jacket pocket, man. Thought you hated that place.”

Bucky blinks. Looks at you. Then back at Sam.

“I… don’t remember going there.”

Classic.

Natasha, from the couch “Wasn’t that the night you said you were doing recon?”

Tony walks in with a mug. “Wait, wait—Bucky Barnes ordered a Double Cheesezilla with extra onion rings and a milkshake. Who are you?”

You’re biting your lip so hard trying not to laugh, you might bleed. Bucky looks at you, then back at them, completely straight-faced.

“Maybe it was Steve’s jacket?” Bucky offers. “Old jacket. Probably Steve.”

Steve, walking by “What?”

“Nothing.” Bucky blurts.

Later, in the hallway, you tackle him into a storage closet and whisper, “You kept the receipt?!”

“You said it was the best burger you’d ever had. I panicked and wanted to remember the order.”

Your heart melts. “You’re unbelievable.”

He shrugs, grinning. “You love me.”

You kiss him, just once. “Unfortunately, yes.”

A/N: i wrote a part 3 about them. if you want to check it out here it is <3

[carawenfiction]

One night you are faced with a dream that alters something within you, forcing you to return to your now abandoned childhood home to search for answers.

Little do you know that the house is connected to another realm where darkness reigns and sunlight is nothing but a distant notion; a realm your family appears to be mysteriously involved with.

Upon encountering a group of paranormal beings of unknown nature, you are drawn further into a strange and unsettling existence as you strive to uncover the truth of your past and find your way back home.

Whatever path you choose, remember to look out for your own shadow.

"The Shadow Society" was first published in 2020 and is currently undergoing an extensive rewrite. The new version leans more into mystery elements with added focus on characters, relationships and how they are forged in a world where nothing is certain.

One sequel is planned to release once the rewrite is finished.

The rewrite of “The Shadow Society” is an 18+ game that includes depictions of violence, mental health, mental illness and sexual content.

Demo is temporarily private.

Patreon | Ko-fi

* Play as a male, female or non-binary main character whose personality, actions and appearance are shaped entirely by your choices. * Play as gay, bi, straight, aromantic or asexual. * Discover a hidden world and take the first steps in uncovering its secrets. * Pursue one of five love interests along with two hidden ones, become entangled in a triangle between two siblings or remain single. * Determine who to trust and who to shun, who to befriend and who to antagonize, among a cast of characters with differing secrets and motivations. * Experience a story that explores the meaning of reality and illusion, truth and deceit, in a world of shadows that mirrors our own.

✹ A (Azuridian/Azuridia)

Their eyes, cold and piercing, seem filled with bitter truths that they refuse to share. They protect their knowledge fiercely and disclose only what they believe they need to when the situation calls for it. Some call them arrogant, but to that they would retort that they are the only one who can do what needs to be done. Driven and direct with a dash of sensuous charm, they don't hesitate to pursue what they want.

Appearance (male version): His face is angular and pale, his lashes a fringe of silver-white. His hair is slicked back, the sides of his head trimmed in an orderly fade cut. He wears a form-fitting, navy blue suit that gives a refined and sophisticated impression. A powerful yet subtle presence, he seems to quietly command the very air around him, emanating a sense of confidence that is both inviting and intimidating all at once.

Appearance (female version): Her face is angular and elegant, her lashes a fringe of silver-white. Her hair is gathered into a high ponytail that reaches her lower back, the sides of her head trimmed in an orderly fade cut. A sensual carmine red blooms on her lips, standing in stark opposition to her somewhat achromatic appearance. She wears a form-fitting, navy blue suit that gives a refined and sophisticated impression. A powerful yet subtle presence, she seems to quietly command the very air around her, emanating a sense of confidence that is both inviting and intimidating all at once.

✹ G (Gwyndal/Gwendolyn)

There is something palpably playful about their gaze. When turned your way, it seems to shine with the same kind of interest a child might show a shiny new toy. Though jovial and charming, there's something just beneath the surface of their demeanor that gives the impression that something far less pleasant lurks within. G has certain obsessive tendencies - their tireless interest in anything related to the 'Sunworld', as they are prone to call your home, for one - and seems to prefer the company of humans to the company of their own kind.

Appearance (both versions): They have tawny skin that contrasts with the short, blond hair that frames their rounded face, a slightly upturned nose sitting above charmingly curved lips. Their clothing style is eclectic and flashy, consisting of a torn yellow shirt with red- and black checkered pants. Silver chains hang around their neck and wrists, the metallic sheen matching the piercings that line their pointed ears.

✹ M (Michael/Michaela)

Though they aren't considered particularly bright, their dark eyes hold a reassuring warmth, alight with zest that could lure a smile from even the most jaded of people. But at times, when they think you aren’t looking, that spark seems to dim, the faint creases in their face appearing more prominent.

They are quick with quips and remarks they most likely hope others find witty, and equally quick to lend an ear and protect the things they care about.

Appearance (male version): His hair is dark brown, thick and tousled, often falling into his eyes. As an avid athlete he works out frequently, sporting a toned and muscular figure as a result. His clothing style is simple and comfortable, rarely going beyond casual jeans, t-shirts and sneakers.

Appearance (female version): Her hair is dark brown and thick, often pulled back in a high ponytail. As an avid athlete she works out frequently, sporting a toned and muscular figure as a result. Her clothing style is simple and comfortable, rarely going beyond casual jeans, t-shirts and sneakers.

✹ Q (Quaiel/Quarie)

A great, invisible chasm stretches between them and the people in their vicinity, a silent yet keenly felt tension seeming to follow wherever they go.

Bereft of the ability to speak, they somehow still appear more forthcoming than the people they surround themselves with. Somewhere deep inside they harbor an unyielding loyalty to A that is difficult to comprehend, especially when the latter's morals and actions often clash with what Q would normally agree with.

Though they rarely seek others out willingly, their eyes are kind, and when gazing upon someone they care about, a subtle tenderness seems to shine through.

Appearance (male version): His creamy skin is dotted with freckles that peek out around the dark muzzle covering his lower face. His red hair is curly and unevenly cut, long in the front and short in the back. A tattered, knitted cardigan falls off one shoulder, reaching a little past his knees. Beneath he wears a white shirt carelessly half-tucked into umber pants.

Appearance (female version): Her creamy skin is dotted with freckles that peek out around the dark muzzle covering her lower face. Her red hair, curly and wild, falls over her shoulders down to her waist. A tattered, knitted cardigan lays half-neglected at her elbows and reaches a little past her knees. Beneath she wears a white shirt carelessly half-tucked into umber pants.

✹ R (Rheylo/Rheyla)

Their gaze is withdrawn, bordering on hostile, their eyes a pair of flames that seem to want to incinerate whoever they’re aimed at. They hide themselves behind long, black hair and a hood, wielding snark and sharp comments as weapons to fend off deeper probing into their psyche. For all their posturing, they get embarrassed easily and may not be quite as laidback as they hope to appear.

Appearance (male version): His skin is medium-dark, a faint of stubble crawling along his jaw on the half of his face that he deigns to show. Though difficult to spot, a small gap that he'd rather keep hidden rests between his front teeth. His straight, midnight-black hair falls down to his elbows, obscuring the right half of his face.

Three braids adorn his left temple - two slim plaits framing a thicker rope that drapes artfully across his shoulder. He is clad entirely in obsidian hues. A form-fitting, sleeveless turtleneck hugs his torso, while wide trousers skim his calves, cinched above knee-high boots. A yukata-inspired, cloak-like garment covers the inner layers, generous sleeves pooling at his wrists. A heavy belt circles his waist, securing the flowing fabric.

Appearance (female version): Her skin is medium-dark. In her upper row of teeth, between darkly painted lips, rests a small gap she'd rather keep hidden. Her straight, midnight-black hair falls down to her elbows, obscuring the right half of her face.

Three braids adorn her left temple - two slim plaits framing a thicker rope that drapes artfully across her shoulder. She is clad entirely in obsidian hues. A form-fitting, sleeveless turtleneck hugs her torso, while wide trousers skim her calves, cinched above knee-high boots. A yukata-inspired, cloak-like garment covers the inner layers, generous sleeves pooling at her wrists. A heavy belt circles her waist, securing the flowing fabric.

✹ Jaelyn

Your ex-best friend/ex-lover. Though quiet and reserved, they are not without humor; once comfortable with a person, their perceived shyness can turn into good-natured smugness and gentle back-and-forth teasing. They have a certain fondness for books and will take whatever opportunity they get to quote a work they enjoy.

Jaelyn works closely with the Shadowman/Shadowlady and is often the one who carries out their orders, though not always without complaint. Though loyal, they are not a blind follower and possess strong opinions of their own. As for their motives and how they ended up in their current position is anyone’s guess.

Appearance (male version): His eyes are a mystery to you, concealed behind a pair of gradient colored, diamond-shaped glasses. He has dark skin and long tight curls that are parted on one side. His lean figure is draped in clothing that appears at once modern and antique, consisting of a violet blouse with an intricately designed jabot, waist-high pants and a pair of leather boots.

Appearance (female version): Her eyes are a mystery to you, concealed behind a pair of gradient colored, diamond-shaped glasses. She has dark skin and long tight curls that are parted on one side. Her lean figure is draped in clothing that appears at once modern and antique, consisting of a violet blouse with an intricately designed jabot, waist-high pants and a pair of leather boots.

✹ The Shadowman/The Shadowlady

It was their voice that drew you in first; the kind that could lure anyone into a sense of security and then cruelly leave you to navigate best you could in its absence. Smooth and mysterious, they grace your life through whispers and echoes of times long gone. When you first meet them face to face, they hide behind masks and shadows alike.

But who are they, really?

Appearance (male version): His turquoise eyes glow with a terrifying kind of potency, lips formed in an ever-present half-smile. He stands taller than most humans, his long hair streaked with black and silver, gathered in a loose ponytail that reaches his lower back. A few wisps that have managed to free themselves almost appear to float around his face, dark clinging to shining grey like black ink stuck to parchment.

His long lashes, each black one followed by one of silver, curve above tiny streaks and dots delicately painted to accentuate his eyes. A golden earring attached to a peacock feather hangs from his left ear, swaying delicately when he moves.

His skin appears polished and glossy, like that of a porcelain doll, his figure lithe and broad shouldered. He wears an iridescent blue and green robe that is adorned with gemstones. Underneath he wears a fitted, sleek black suit, complete with a tie. Strange, dark dust covers his hands and long, claw-like nails.

Appearance (female version): Her turquoise eyes glow with a terrifying kind of potency, lips formed in an ever-present half-smile. She stands taller than most humans, her long hair streaked with black and silver and pulled back in an elaborate updo. A few wisps have managed to free themselves from the chignon and float gently around her face, dark strands clinging to shining greys like black ink stuck to parchment.

A golden earring attached to a peacock feather hangs from her left ear, swaying delicately when she moves. Her lashes are long, each black one followed by one of silver. She wears purple-blue eyeshadow and shimmering purple lipstick.

Her skin appears polished and glossy, like that of a porcelain doll. She wears an iridescent blue and green robe that is adorned with gemstones. Underneath she wears a low-cut dress  that clings to her voluptuous figure. Strange, dark dust covers her hands and long, claw-like nails.  

Appearance (non-binary version): Their eyes glow with a terrifying kind of potency, lips formed in an ever-present half-smile. They stand taller than most humans, their long hair streaked with black and silver and pulled back in a loose ponytail that reaches their lower back. Their lashes are long, each black one followed by one of silver.

Sometimes their figure appears soft, shaped by feminine curves, other times lithe and slender with broadened shoulders. They wear an iridescent blue and green robe that is adorned with gemstones and slide off their shoulders, baring the intricate piece of golden jewellery tied around their neck.

Their long lashes, each black one followed by one of silver, curve above shimmering purple-blue eyeshadow and purple lips. A golden earring attached to a peacock feather hangs from their left ear, swaying delicately as they move. Strange, dark dust covers their hands and long, claw-like nails.  

Current Progress:

Written/reworked chapters: Prologue, chapter 1, beginning of chapter 2.

Edited chapters: Prologue, chapter 1.

Demo wordcount excluding code: ~35k as of end of April 2025.

Total wordcount excluding code: ~47k as of end of April 2025.

Credits

@filopay for the gorgeous cover art

Canva for the other images used in this post

[thehumanwiki]

hi and welcome to

✨bullshit that has ACTUALLY happened somewhere in the Pokémon franchise✨

-a teenaged boy runs away from home because of his abusive mom only to join a crime gang funded by his abusive mom.

-the player character is given a smartphone by and with direct contact to God.

-a man cosplaying God (the same God you got a phone from) attacks you with a demon banished to another dimension.

-a suicide cult led by an evil snowflake kills like one hundred other protagonists.

-there is an entire elemental typing consisting of abused and evil Pokémon that is super effective against everything else.

-the player falls into an alternate world and one of their friends is immediately arrested for playing sports.

-in the thrilling sequel, a bunch of ghosts kidnap children in their amusement park in the Shadow Realm.

-now that I think about it there are like three different games where the player character starts by falling from the sky.

-the protagonist of the TV adaptation has died like seven times, been crucified in Paris, watched several apocalypses, and has watched SO many people die in front of him, and I don’t think he’s brought it up like, ever.

-in one game, you can go on a crusade to brutally conquer the entire continent.

-the player of one game is part of a time loop caused by a magic turtle that indirectly kills one of their friend’s mother. Or father. Depends on the version.

-the player’s adoptive father is possessed by the personification of hate and sends them directly to Hell, then tries to do it again when they get out.

-the mafia’s plan for getting their boss back after he left is to violently hijack a radio station and ask really nicely.

-a space agency’s plan for stopping a meteor form colliding with the earth is to open a wormhole to another dimension. this plan is stopped by a woman in a torn cape who destroys their equipment and robs them.

-the protagonist’s father had a godlike clone fuse his consciousness with a mouse, and fights a man who fused his own consciousness with an alien.

-the one a cult leader chose to be king of his new religion is an abused autistic boy with green hair and wearing a baseball cap.

-you literally rob people’s Pokémon in one game and you’re still the good guy. …is there a gender neutral version of “good guy?”

And now for a BONUS ROUND!

✨shit that has gone down in the Pokémon manga adaptation alone!✨

-terrorists blow up an ENTIRE port city!

-one protagonist spent two years trapped in a Dream Realm™.

-you think that’s bad? TWO protagonists are trapped in the depths of space for like six months!

-you think THAT’S bad?! FIVE protagonists are turned into stone for an indefinite time period!

-a little orphan girl is hypnotized and trapped in a suit of armor.

-they crucify the gym leaders???

-one boy is whipped in the face with a chain used to subjugate the Gods Of Time And Space and he’s literally fine.

-a father punches his son in the face and hurls him down a staircase. The American translation censors this as a lightning strike.

-this same son fell into the ocean because of an earthquake like five chapters after he was introduced.

-one of the current protagonists is basically Wednesday Addams.

-two protagonists were kidnapped by birds and raised by a supervillain.

-two villains try to destroy the environment of an entire country, cause an apocalypse, and are stopped by being trapped in a flying car which crashes.

-a mysterious supervillain saves them— SOMEHOW— and makes them fight to the death for a suit of armor. The one that survives causes the apocalypse AGAIN but dies.

-they both get brought back from Hell to save the world, and after that’s over, they turn to dust and go back to Hell.

-the supervillain who saved them the first time also summons like ten gods and dips out, never to be seen again.

In other words Pokémon is weird (affectionate).

[peanutpinet]

BABE!!!! We absolutely need a second part to Little Things, we need to know how their relationship develops and see Sylus fall in lover with reader's soul. PLEASE BABE PLEASE!!!

Welcome to My World - Sylus x Fem Reader (Sequel to Little Things)

Request: Craving for a sequel to this w/ reader actually going back to her world and sylus just defying all odds shshshshs these kinds of fics are so interesting love em <3

A/N: Just a lil something for those who wanted to see what would Sylus be like if he were to actually come out of the screen and into our world (still having his evol but is not addressed). Also if anyone is a Kpop fan, I just want to say, do have a listen to Aespa’s Welcome to My World. It embodies this fic so much and am putting some of the lyrics into the story! I hope you guys enjoy!!

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

Also, if you haven't read Little Things, the "first part" of the story, do have a read. Will be link here. But you don't have to read it and can just read each of these fics seperately

Warnings: Fluff but mainly ANGST, Isekai Theme, Will be Going back and Forth between LADS universe and our universe, slow burn because Sylus is tryna find you :))

Funfact: I remembered the TV Show: Westworld and how the characters of the game gain conciousness when writing this fic

Songs to listen to: NCT Dream - Broken Melodies, Aespa - Welcome to My World, NCT Dream - Like We Just Met

N109 Zone - 01:48 AM

It was in the middle of the night. When all are asleep, people in the N109 zone, those in the shadows have only started to wake up and get on about their day, including Sylus. Slowly awakening from his slumber, Sylus saw the girl that was beside him, fast asleep. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady motion; indicating that she was in a deep sleep.

Smiling to himself, Sylus decided to scootch a bit closer and caressed the girl’s cheek. But as he did, the girl immediately grabbed his wrist tightly and jerked awake. “Who the fuck…w-where am I?!”

Hearing the girl’s words, Sylus knew. “You’re not her…”

Real World - 09:28 AM

You woke up with a pounding headache but slowly regained your consciousness, you noticed how the bed wasn’t as big nor was it as warm as when you were used to. Jerking up, you took in the room you were in. The bright white ceiling was the first thing you see, the smell of alcohol and blood was faint but you could smell it, and then you heard a beeping noise which made you turn and saw that your hand was hooked onto a monitor and an IV drip.

Whipping your head around, you search for your phone until you find it and immediately look at the date when you suddenly get a notification from both Instagram and Twitter mentioning the new update for Love and Deepspace.

“I’m back…” you sobbed yet your fingers glided across the screen of your phone, pressing the game that you swore you were in

As the game loads, you see the cutscenes of all of the characters and can’t help but feel emotionally overwhelmed whenever you see Sylus’ cutscenes.

Once the game loaded and you could hear that cafe jingle along with those familiar red eyes, you tried to see whether or not anything had changed in the game other than the new updates but when you clicked on his tall figure, the lines he said were nothing out of the ordinary. Even in the text message icon, you couldn’t text him like you did when you were in the game.

“Was it all just a dream?”

“Y-you’re awake!!” you heard someone talk and as your eyes looked at the doorframe, it was the nurse

You soon found out that you had been in a coma for a little over 2 weeks yet it felt like you were in the game for 2 months, maybe even more. Your best friends came to visit you every day and now that you’re awake, they were bombarding you with food, life updates, and all.

For once, you actually didn’t feel as lonely as you were when you appeared in the game.

Maybe it truly was all just a dream��

From a distance, a black crow was watching your interaction with your friends from a tree that was just outside of your window. After some time, the crow eventually fled and flew away from the tree.

N109 Zone - 04:18 AM

Sylus was beyond pissed. He took MC to where he took you in the beginning to get your evol and aether core checked but additionally, he wanted to know if you were truly not in the MC’s body. Sylus’ worker questioned as to why he brought MC again to check her evol and aether core, confusing the Onychinus’ leader.

Even when the two came home, the twins didn’t notice any difference from MC. What’s wrong with everyone? You’re not MC and it goes the other way as well. Why were the twins pestering MC who to Sylus, was not you.

“But boss, Miss Hunter and you have known each other for over 2 months now. What do you mean she’s not her?” Luke questioned, genuinely confused at his boss’ attitude

“She’s not. Have you forgotten who taught you both how to cook the simplest meal? The one that bought you those bulletproof vests?” Sylus demanded, something, anything about your sudden disappearance or at the very least, anyone other than him remembering your existence

“It’s Miss Hunter, though?” Kieran replied, making Sylus groan. “Just, leave me alone for the next few days” Sylus left the room and walked past MC who grabbed his wrist, making his brow arch in confusion.

Sighing, Sylus turned to see MC. “What is it that you want?”

“Where are you going? I went through all the trouble to get the N109 zone and I want answers regarding the aether core” MC demanded but Sylus just chuckled and used his evol to remove MC’s hand from his wrist

“You already have the aether core you’re looking for. Why don’t you go back and ask your doctor about that? I have other matters to attend to. Like why are you here instead of her” Sylus mentioned, walking away until MC talked to him

“You’re always mentioning her but you never mentioned her name. Who are you exactly talking about and what does it have to do with me?” MC questioned and this time, Sylus grabbed her by her neck and pinned her to the nearest wall

“Don’t tempt my patience. I only have so much left ever since your attitude shows up instead of something else I want. From here on out, I could care less about your little quest. You can even have that brooch you’re wearing to get in and out of the N109 zone without getting harmed. But I want you to leave. Go back to your doctor, that fish man of an artist, or fake hunter for all I care. When I come back to this place, I hope that you’re not here anymore. Or you’ll hurt even more” Sylus warned, releasing MC as he went who knows where.

Sylus went into his car, the car that you love to drive in. Though you were just a soul in MC’s body, he could immediately tell the two of you apart. What scent do you like, the small trinkets that you would buy to keep his things more organized, some small keychain plushies that he would put on his keys which is in contrast to his scary look.

You might just be a soul that just so happens to be in MC’s body, the body of a person he should’ve been interacting with, the one he should’ve been bound to. But why does his heart feel incomplete? Why does his soul long for your own.

Gripping onto the steering wheel, Sylus looked at the plushie you put in this car. It was a koala, one of your favourite plushies, because you told him that you looked like a koala when Sylus carried you around. “I swore to you that if this were to happen, I would find you. Regardless what happens, I will find a way to get back to you. Our stories’ unfinished, sweetie. Wait for me. I’ll do anything to get back to you”

Real World

It’s been several months since you woke up. You still played the game but not as often anymore. You got a job at your friend’s office as a secretary. It pays well, you and your friend are roommates, life has been going fairly well that you barely played the game that provided you comfort.

One day, however, there was a bouquet of red Carnations mixed with pink Camillas on your desk with a note attached to it. “I hope this gets to you. If this ever reaches you, it means that I’m another step closer to seeing you again. There’s this uneasy feeling I’ve been feeling since you were gone. I promise I won’t stop finding you”

Confused, you asked everyone, including the delivery man who delivered the flowers to you but no one knew where it came from. It didn’t even mention your name and only a description of you.

Brushing it off, you thought it must’ve been some kind of prank until several more flowers reached you. One after another, there were notes along with the flowers which all made your heart clench because whoever this person was, it seemed that either you left a very deep impression on them or this was some sort of stalker.

“Did the first one reach you? I’m getting closer”

“I hope that you’re eating well. Wait for me”

“It seems that you’ve forgotten about me once more. No matter, I’ll be sure to jog your memory once we meet again”

Another year has finally passed and the bouquet and notes kept on coming until you saw the flowers and notes that came in. Instead of the usual red Carnation or pink Camillas or even sometimes Forget me nots, this time it was a bouquet of black and red roses with a note of a familiar handwriting and scent.

“I’ve finally found you. You said that you were worried about me finding the real you but to me, you’re just as perfect as your soul. Your face, your body, it matches your soul perfectly. And even though you might’ve forgotten about me, I assure you that my love for you is still the same like we just met. Perhaps in the game, I would allow you to go live your life without me because it’s safer for you. But here, looking at you, I can feel myself coming alive once more. Whether you try to move on, I know that there’s a lingering feeling behind your pretty head thinking of the possibility. And you would be correct, sweetie. I’m fulfilling my promise to you. For there is no love greater than mine.

P.S: we should thank Mephisto for always managing to find you when I couldn’t

-Sylus”

You were in shock. Sure, there was a small voice, hidden behind all your to-dos, your schedules, your wants, likes, needs. A faint voice telling you of the possibility that perhaps Sylus was the one to send you all those flowers and notes but you were in your world, the real world. You would lock that faint voice and never think about it again. You were realistic. There was no way that a fictional 3D man would send you all of that.

And Mephisto? He’s a bird. A mechanical bird that is tied with Sylus. Everything seemed ridiculous. You couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day until your boss called you for a sudden meeting outside of the office and at a restaurant.

The restaurant was filled with high-class people, some were doing business with another while others were simply finding ways to spend their money. Suddenly, it reminded you of the time when you were in MC’s body and Sylus would take the two of you out to dinner.

Remembering Sylus, the flowers, and the note, you decided to excuse yourself to the restroom but in reality, you decided to log into the very game you downloaded to seek comfort. The nostalgia was coming back. They made a new update and introduced a new male character. Once your game loads, Sylus is still in the game and when you poke him, thinking that he’ll respond like how he would when a player hasn’t logged in for so long, he surprises you.

“You’re probably wondering why am I not responding to you in a way that you expect. Well, why don’t you check my messages on the message feature, sweetie?” Sylus mentioned and immediately, you went to open the message feature in the game and once again, you were shocked with what you read on the screen that you had to cover your mouth.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, kitten? I’m sad that you’ve forgotten about me but I’m genuinely happy with how you’re living your life so far”

“But if I were to tell you that I want to be apart of your life here, would you accept me?”

You were given the chance to answer him, to reply to this sudden message but your boss had already called you back and unfortunately, you had to go back to the table and sit beside your boss.

As you were about to sit down, you heard that familiar soothing voice that always calms your nerves; especially when you’re in the N109 zone. “Is this your secretary that we’ve been waiting for?”

Immediately, you looked up and met with those soft bright red eyes behind small glasses. The white hair you’ve gone through with your fingers was styled like how you first met him. The figure sitting in front of you was wearing a soft grey sweater and black jeans.

And that smile, that smile that you’re so used to seeing everyday is now showing in front of you again. “Pleased to meet you, sweetheart. Shall we begin the meeting?”

Throughout the meeting, you tried your best to pay attention and jot down all the notes you needed. You struggled for a moment and even towards the end, you stutter your thank you and goodbyes until the white-hair man called you.

“Waiting for someone, sweetie?” you heard that damn voice as you could feel all hairs on your skin stand up

Turning around, you finally got a good look at him. All of his 190cm height was towering over your figure. Your actual real-life self and not the MC you created in the game.

On one side, you wanted to talk, to question him if all of this was just another one of those visions you used to have. On the other, you wanted to jump at the man in front of you. To cry in his arms as he holds you close. But nothing. You were frozen in your spot as this Sylus look-alike smirked at you and held his index out which suddenly a black crow rest on.

“Is, is that��” you managed to utter, making the man in front of you chuckle

“Mephisto. An actual crow this time” he said, extending his hand out so the black crow was within your reach

Extending your own index out, the black crow, Mephisto went onto your index and you instinctively stroke its head. “We never stop looking for you, you know”

You look up to see those eyes that once were filled with rage now filled with sadness. Sighing, you tried to remind yourself that this is the real world, not your game.

“I'm sorry, sir. You must've gotten the wrong person. I don't think we’ve met before this meeting today. Your bird must be very friendly to have gone on another person’s hand” you mentioned, intending to return the black crow, still not believing that the man and bird in front of you are who you think they are

But instead, the man in front of you turned and took something from his pocket. “Is that so? Well then either you don’t want to remember what we’ve been through or Mephisto might’ve gotten the wrong person. Then how about we reintroduce ourselves to one another?”

“I’m Sylus, this is Mephisto. We were from a faraway land called the N109 zone. For the past year, I've been building my multimillion security tech company” Sylus mentioned, extending his hand out, revealing the brooch that you once wore as a promise to Sylus to stay by him

Shocked to see the brooch, you stutter at your words but Sylus noticed this and gently took one of your hands which you didn’t deny. “I meant what I said and I’m keeping my promise. My only regret is I couldn’t come find you sooner”

“H-how? This has got to be a joke. You’re not real. You’re not actually here. I must be dreaming again. I’m going mad” you started to lose your mind but Sylus pulled you into a hug

“Tell me this isn’t real then. Tell me that you don’t see me. Tell me that you don’t feel this warmth we both have wanted for a long time. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll gladly walk away from you so that you can continue to live your life as is but don’t expect me not to want to be a part of your life. Don’t think that even if I walk away today, I won’t try my best to still keep an eye on you” Sylus stated, whispering into your ear, kissing right below your ear

Taking in his calming leather scent, you slowly sob in Sylus’ chest as he strokes your head, calming you. “You’re such a stubborn crow” you finally hug Sylus, indirectly accepting him back into your life

“I know. But it’s worth it. I finally get back to you. Though I can’t offer you as much as I would when we were in the N109 zone, I do promise you that I will be here this time. I’m not letting you go that easily. So, you’re willing to let me back?” Sylus asked, making you chuckle

“Welcome to the real world, my world, Sylus” you said, getting on your tiptoe to give his cheek a kiss but instead, Sylus turned his head, held your neck and leaned for an actual kiss

A/N: Ngl, I was simping over my own writing of this. Where can we find an irl Sylus T^T

[ronjunnie]

JENO FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

arcane @neonacity

case oasis @neonc1tylights

ONESHOTS

my first and last (m) (37k) @leejenowrld

picture perfect image (35k) @a-cupof-jo

i suddenly realize my archnemesis is hot (during a battle to the death) (22.5k) @choerrypuffs

sunshine (21.3k) @endthedream

shadows in the snow (m) (20k) @jenonctcity

ready for love (19.5k) @jnnul

dream()scape @technologyculturedneo

tongue-tied (17.4k) @starlightkun

summer of love (15.2k) @lattaeyongs

kitchen frolics (14.8k) @radiorenjun

the perks of having a hot best friend (14.3k) @jaeyunverse

Stepping Into The Moonlight (m) (13.3k) @jenonctcity

wicked games (m) (12.8k) @iridesuhnce

nothing in return (12k) @cozyjae

fight club (m) (11.9k) @tyonfs

pupsick (11.8k) sequel (8.8k) @starlightkun

home (m) (11.6k) @byunbaekby

the roommate contract (11.3k) @jaeyunverse

hold fast (11.1k) @kiachiako

summer lovin' (9.8k) @softsichenghours

midnight moon (9k) @jaeminhours

it's yours (m) (6k) @neopuppy

the element of substance (5.2k) @choerrypuffs

lavender haze (3.4k) @springdaybreaks

summer heat and summer swims (m) (3.4k) @hyuckssunchip

for real love (3.1k) @jungnoir

searching for sun, water, and attention (2k) @flashbangstars

sleepy kisses @blu-joons

get smart (m) (1.8k) @glitchfiles

drunken guest and a tail (1.6k) @simpsiren

you wounds wrapped with my love (1.5k) @slytherinshua

rainfall @xrenjunniesx

all night long @writemekpop

TIMESTAMPS

1:34 @kkaebsongtypo

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11:27 @doeilovr

11:38 pm (m) @hyucksong

12:23 @lqfiles

12:40 am @kkaebsongtypo

12:51 am @snapchattingnct

[midgarangel]

ꗃ snowed in pt2 | arthur morgan ⭐️

summary: sequel to “snowed in.” the morning after. arthur might have to leave after all.

contents: nsfw! arthur morgan x fem reader. good honor arthur, pre tb, marking, penetration, table sex, spit, spanking (like once lol), arthurs sweet on you, “good girl.” kinda angsty if you squint..reader really doesn’t want him to leave.

words: 2.7k? i’m guessing.

—

The bed beneath you felt cold. Contrasting with your warm skin. The peak in the curtains allowed the sun to show itself, casting shadows on the walls of the cabin. It was early, very early. Your body aching in the best way possible as your mind reminisced on last night.

Arthur.

The kiss in the barn.

Just everything about the man.

You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Taking in a deep breath, coffee was the first thing that hit your nose. With a smile on your face, you slowly got up, wrapping the sheet around you.

Rounding the corner, there he was. Mr.Morgan making a fresh pot of coffee in his union suit. The suspenders hugging his shoulders in the best possible way.

“Mornin’.” You say shly, leaning against the wall. Your voice barely above a whisper. It was quite raspy in the morning.

Arthur turned around, greeting you with a hot cup. Inhaling the aroma, you take it. It’s not your favorite drink in the world but you can’t complain.

“Mornin’. Careful it’s hot now.” He pulls out a chair for you to sit at the table. Both of you sipping on the hot cups.

“How did you find the stash? I don’t remember tellin’ you where it was.” You ask, raising a brow.

Arthur chuckles. “Snooped around, hope you don’t mind.”

“Why didn’t you wake me? Could’ve made it together.”

His hand covered yours resting on the table.

“Wanted to surprise ya.”

There it was, that smile he couldn’t get enough of.

Little did you know, an hour before you had awoken, he took a moment to enjoy the sweet, dreamy look on your face. Just seeing you bundled up in the blankets, knowing you were safe and secure here, sent a warm rush of delight spiralling through his chest. He couldn’t interrupt that.

“Consider me surprised then.” You laughed.

The birds outside sounded extra loud this morning now that the storm was over. With the fire crackling, birdsong’s being sang, and the man in front of you, you were in bliss.

“How’d ya sleep?” Arthur asks, taking a big sip.

“Like a baby. Muscles are sore though.”

“I bet.” He says. Taking both of your cups to the sink. When he returned he began again.

“I wasn’t too rough wit ya now, was I?”

“No. I loved every moment, I’m a big girl ya know.”

The mans face reddening, gave away the affect you had on him. He hadn’t been this intimate with anyone since Mary, and that was a long time ago.

“Ain’t gotta butter me up.”

“You need more compliments in your life, Arthur.”

What a sight you were. Over hear boosting his ego while hugging the sheet wrapped around you. It looked like it was about to slip. He chuckled standing tall over your small frame seated in the chair.

Raising the corners of your mouth into a soft smile, you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing the bottom of his suspenders bringing him closer to you till you felt the chilly surface of his buckle against your cheek.

Feeling his coarse hand land softly on your head, he ran his fingers through your hair that was soft under his palms. Arthur wasn't good at feelings and often found himself tongue-tied in situations like this. His heart churned at your sudden display of emotions.

Looking back at you was a man with warm, soft-blue eyes and tousled honey-blond hair. Your chest tightened at the look he gave you, making you feel like the most precious thing he had ever seen.

“How am I pose’ to leave after these few hours with you, huh?”

A soft gasp left your lips.

“Don’t go. You could stay…”

Sighing, you stared at him through your lashes. Palm stroking his thigh. He could feel himself melt at your behavior. The tension in your kitchen was searing, the pot of coffee no longer the only thing hot.

“Let it fall Darlin’.”

In an instant the sheet fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He made a subtle stand up motion with his hands. As soon as you stood, you were lifted in the air causing you to squeal and close your eyes.

Opening them, you looked down at him, the sight more erotic than anything you had ever seen. He held your gaze through his hazy ones.

“Now, I know you’re delicate,” Arthur prefaced, a smirk on his face. He was riling you up, as he often did.

“But you oughta let me get one last taste before I go.”

Cradling his head in your hands, you kissed him like your life depended on it. Wanting to savor every last second you had with the man. He groaned into you, your tongues fighting for dominance. His big hands resting on your ass, kneading and squeezing while carrying you two to the wall near by.

He puts you up against it, immediately going for your neck. His hands squeeze your thighs, keeping your legs in place but you wrap them around his waist anyways.

It was a welcome surprise to learn that Arthur loved marking you. Time felt slow like you had hoped. He nipped and licked the skin underneath your ear making you yelp.

“Can’t get enuf of you.” He said kissing the bite, soothing it.

“Take me, Arthur.” Your breath was more of a pant as his hand traveled downwards to your plump lips.

“Sure ya ain’t too sore still?” His hand ghosted over your cunt.

You shook your head no. Still sore but not really, it’ll go away you thought. Both of you were incredibly desperate for each other that you didn’t want to wait anymore.

“Did I do this to ya? Make you all hot and bothered, beautiful?” He asked, his western accent super apparent.

He took the little whimper you released as a ‘yes’ and a plead for more.

Arthur took two fingers and hooked them inside of you, feeling the soft skin and wishing it was his cock instead. His thumb rubbed circles on your clit and you were already getting so close. You were able to tune out the noises outside, only hearing his praises in your ear as he looked at your face. So close. Almost there.

“God, please stay.” Pleading with him, your breath was more of a pant as he pumped two fingers into your pussy. Or was it three? It felt good. More than good. You couldn’t remember if he ever added more than one, but it felt fuller. And fuller. And fuller. Until you felt like you were going to burst.

“I wanna. I swear I wanna.” He responded.

“I have some business to take care of first. Then mm all yours.”

You were already dripping down his hand and if you could see below you, you’d probably notice small puddles of your arousal on the hardwood floor.

The moment you found your climax and finished around his fingers, his thrusting ceased. He removed his fingers thoroughly, hoping to replace it with something more satisfying.

“Tell me what you want. Need to hear you say it Sweet Girl.”

“Nothing but you..please,” you begged. “I want you. Wanna feel you inside of me.”

“Here? In ya cute lil kitchen?”

“Mhm. Anywhere.”

“Careful what you wish for Darlin’.”

It felt like your bodies were meshed together. Your fingers unbuttoned his union shirt with quickness. As soon as he was shirtless, Arthurs hands were back on you, rubbing his fingers up and down your sides. He held you close to him as his mouth pressed harsh kisses and bites down along your neck again, leaving marks that probably wouldn’t fade for a few days. That thought only made him want to mark you more, make you his.

Once he’d soothed the bite with his tongue enough to take the sting out he kissed his way back up your jaw and to your mouth. Kissing him just felt right, it felt like home, it felt like what your mouths were made for.

A clash of teeth and tongues and lips that lead to both of you making the noises that proved how much you wanted, no, needed each other.

When he finally pulled back, you were completely breathless but Arthur wasn’t even close to being done.

Your hands held his hair and ruffled through it as he turned around and backed you up towards the small kitchen table. You yelped his name quietly when your ass hit the corner. Hands falling to his chest to stabilize yourself as you pulled from the kiss to catch your breath a bit.

Arthur let out a low growl as he turned your back to his chest. His arms wrapped around you. One across your chest to grab your breast and the other around your hips. His stubble tickled the back of your ear as he nibbled at your skin.

“Bend over,” he commanded gruffly and you felt yourself clench around nothing.

He pulled back to admire the view in front of him. You decided to wriggle your hips to show him, making him sigh as his hand came down to swat at your bare cheek. The sound was sharp but the sting was sharper as you moaned and chewed your lower lip, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You alright?”

With a fervent nod from you, you felt him moving his way down your body with chaste, rough kisses along your arm.

“I liked that.”

“Good girl.”

He knelt down as he rounded your backside and bit at your right cheek which made you hiss in pleasure. His hands came to your hips as he pulled you closer to him so that he could lick a stripe along your folds.

“Gotta make sure she’s ready.”

The only thoughts you could form were of Arthur, of the way he loomed over you. The way he spit on your cunt to make it even easier for him to slide his cock into you.

You were mewling his name and moaning quietly which was music to his ears but he wanted you louder still.

Another moment passed and you felt him line himself up and press his weeping tip into you.

He groaned in your ear as he pressed into you slowly, feeling you stretch around him. He filled you and bottomed out. “Fuck,” he hissed when he pulled out just enough to thrust back into you.

You cried out softly against your arm which effectively muffled your noises. But Arthur could still hear you and it urged him to keep going. His hips snapped against your ass as he quickened his pace.

“Taking it well sweetheart, might just let them think the pinkertons got me.”

His words were intoxicating and you were sure that you were not going to be able to walk right after the way he was stretching you.

“Tell me what you need,” he grumbled as his hand gruffly slid down to your chest and grabbed at one of your tits.

You moaned in response, unable to find your voice to speak. It was as if you had forgotten how to be human as he thrusted into you over and over, your face pressing against the wooden table, sure to leave a mark. But the only thing you could feel was the way he was hitting that bright spot within you.

“Oh, Arthur.” You moaned out. He moved faster, One of his hands reached down between your legs to rub furious little circles on your clit, causing you to moan out his name again.

It took only a few more thrusts for you to come undone, chanting his name and cursing as he fucked you through your high. His hand kept moving, his groans kept coming. He worked you through your own high and your body nearly collapsed from the overstimulation but he kept going.

A dozen more thrusts followed by a loud grunt from him, he pressed into you. Feeling hims spill his warm seed into your pussy. Rope after rope of cum painted your inner walls and you clenched around him at the sensation.

Once he was spent, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades. When he softened, he pulled out and watched as his cum started to dribble down your thigh. A satisfied smirk appeared on his lips as you continued to catch your breath and stood up slowly.

“You made a mess.” You teased as you turned towards him, leaning against the table. Your eyes watched him put himself back together. As he pulled up his suit, he shrugged and chuckled, giving you a knowing glance.

“Could always clean it up if ya want,” he teased back, his tongue pressing out of his lips to lick at them slowly. Your breath hitched watching the movement.

“Next time.” You managed to croak out and he cocked an eyebrow at that.

He took your chin in between his thumb, giving you a quick peck. You held his wrist.

“Let me draw ya a bath while i’m at it.” He says, trying to make up for the fact he wouldn’t be here much longer.

You sighed softly, shaking your head. “You’re good to me.”

“Wouldn’t be anything else to you.”

—

After your warm bath, you opened the bathroom door to find the area around you abandoned. Your heart sank. Did he leave without saying goodbye? Looking for any sign of him, maybe he left something behind?

Quickly putting on the first dress and jacket you could find, you made your way outside in search of the man who stole your heart in such a short amount of time.

The wind hit your face as you shielded the sun from your eyes. Snow up to your shins, you followed the fresh footprints that led to the barn.

There he was, inside, doting on Olive. This time he had on his clothes from yesterday, hat and all. It seemed like your emotions hit all at once. He could see your teary eyes as soon as you were face to face.

“I swear i’ll come back to you. I mean it.”

He embraced you. Like a dagger to the chest. It felt like you were sending him off to war. You wanted to remember every touch, every lingering glance, his eyes, his words, everything.

Holding you tightly, he soothed you. Rubbing your back and kissing your forehead as you sniffled. He wiped away your tears, holding your face in his hands.

“You have my word sweetheart, now stop your cryin.”

He usually kept his word. There was no doubt in your mind he wouldn’t unless something happened.

“Need ya to take care of Olive like you’ve been doin’ ok?”

“Of course.” You sniffled.

“I’ll try to be back in a week or two. If I can’t come as soon as that, then i’ll write you.”

You walked Arthur and Boadicea back to the front of the cabin. Double checking he didn’t leave anything behind.

“You’re sure you got everything?”

Arthur nodded as he packed his saddle.

Making sure it was sturdy, he tucked in his weapons so they’d be readily accessible during the ride back to camp.

“Yep. Left some medicine in the barn just in case.”

Hopping on his horse, Arthur reached out for your hand, kissing your knuckles before he rode off.

“Thank you. For everything.” He said after letting it go.

You smiled warmly at him. A simple nod of your head.

“Be safe.”

“I’ll try my best Darlin’.”

It didn’t take long before their silhouettes disappeared down the path then around the corner, into the afternoon snow.

—

started my 3rd playthrough of rdr2 last weekend, bad honor though..we’ll see how it goes lmao. ty for reading xx <3

[beggamoth]

The most loyal servant and their blue-balled Prince

summary | aemond targaryen survives after the battle above the god’s eye thanks to the little trinket you gave him. now he's crippled, catatonic and vaguely aroused when you tie his braces and change his linens.

technically a sequel to the things that cannot be unsaid

characters | aemond targaryen x servant!gn!reader, aegon as a comedic relief (sort of)

notes | not proofread. very chopped english. mentions of physical therapy and all the things that are adjacent to the freshly disabled person. i tried to be as accurate as I can but i'd love to hear suggestions or criticism if you have any. very ooc aemond.

wordcount | 2,8 k

any kind of feedback is highly appreciated!

Aemond rarely dreamed, but if he did, his dreams have always been sharp, cinematic things – clarity as sharp as a sword edge, vivid as blood on the snow. But this one had been… different.

No carnage. No screams. Just sky.

And the peaks.

The Fourteen Flames had glowed like gods’ torches above him, and Valyria had risen from the obsidian earth in tiered white bloodless cities. Rising, their peaks plunging into the sky and crystalizing in immortality in the minds of white-haired and white-bearded Targaryen exceptionalists. The air smelled of brimstone and myrrh. He wore robes of purple silk, embroidered in high Valyrian glyphs—wedding glyphs, he knew somehow, like he knew the language in the marrow of his bones.

And beside him, bareheaded and barefoot as custom demanded, walked his betrothed.

Your neck was bare. Your eyes, wide with recognition but not surprise.

You were not smiling. But neither was he. That was the Valyrian way.

You were wed before a pool of molten stone, your wrists bound with red string. You spoke your vows with your fingers pressed to the ridge of his missing eye – no eyepatch, no sapphire – just empty black eyesocket with the warm wind whistling through it.

And then you kissed him. Not out of affection, but as rite. As law. Your lips tasted like ash and poppyseed.

“Dāria iā ñuha.” You whispered. You are mine.

And it was the truth in its earnest.

Aemond woke to the scent of boiled lye and copper.

His body was slick with fever sweat. The back of his tunic stuck to his shoulders. His good eye shot open, wildly scanning through the thickening gloomy shadows of his sickroom—and landed directly on your frame, crouched by the edge of his bed, sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in the most humiliating business known to man.

Cleaning the bedpan.

He blinked.

You noticed. "Oh, you're awake. Great." Your voice was all chirp and no dignity, and suddenly all pathos of Old Valyria was shattered by the sound of… sloshing in a ceramic bowl. “Try not to move too much. The stitches are still fresh.”

He tried to speak. Swallowed. Tried again His throat was as dry as a parchment.

 “And by the way, you talk in your sleep. In High Valyrian. Which is rude, because I only know the herb names.” You stood up and walked across his sickroom to the door to empty it.

He tried to sit up, as if you had an invisible ribbon around your waist tethered loosely to his chest, but enough to pull. The world tilted.

You glared. “Lie. Back. Down. Unless you want to have a real accident this time.”

“You were there,” he rasped. “In the dream.”

You blinked, pausing mid-step. “Well, that’s... concerning.”

“You—” His voice caught. “It was Valyria.”

Your brows rose slowly, visibly trying not to laugh. “Ah. That explains it. Sweating, delirium, speaking dead languages. Did I also have wings?”

“No.” He exhaled, staring at you. “You were real.”

You sighed, moved the covered basin on your hip and placed your hand on the doorknob. “Yes, Aemond. I’m very real. Flesh and blood. Just ask your laundry.”

He looked down at the linens, then back at you.

The glow of dream-Valyria still pulsed faintly behind his eye.

You pushed at the door. “Anything else you need?”

His mouth opened. Closed. His throat worked.

“…No.” And the door slammed shut behind you.

But later, he would write it in his journal.

He would write every word he remembered.

Because something in that dream had felt older than time. And worse—right.

Aemond does not speak of the dream again.

He doesn’t ask you what he said. He doesn’t even glance at you the same way. Which is to say—he doesn’t glance at all. It’s as if his one eye has decided you no longer exists in the visible spectrum.

He is recovering, inch by agonizing inch, in the way of men who feel shame for being seen broken.

The maesters prescribe stretching – for his recovering joints. He does it alone, in the grey hours before dawn, somewhat hastily, with more shame and fear of being caught mid-act than some married men fucking their ways through pillow houses.

Maesters also prescribe boiled calf marrow, vinegar compresses, and good posture. He tolerates the first two. He growls at the third.

You bring him bitter tea that smells like moldy oranges and burned cloves. He drinks it, because he’s afraid you’ll tell Alicent if he doesn’t. (You won’t. But he doesn’t know that.)

You clean his bandages. Wrap his leg. You do it like a professional, no giggling, no commentary���just humming, usually the same tune Helaena sings to dead moths.

Once, your hand brushed his thigh. He flinches, full-body movement – but not from pain.

None of you speak of it, supposing the matter settled.

You hear it first from the wetnurse—well, not really a wetnurse anymore, but an old woman with a breastbone like a coat hanger, red face and meaty fingers and an unfiltered mouth—who hisses it while arranging the washed linens.

“They say the prince’s legs won't mend straight. Might walk like a crab from now on. And the dragon, she won’t lift again.”

You nod politely and murmur a thank-you, because the proper response to unsolicited gossip is always a thank-you, and return to your room with a lump in your throat and a bundle of salves clutched tight against your apron.

His limp settles into something manageable, you notice. Not too pronounced, not too awkward. You sometimes (or rather often) glance in his direction during court and watch how he adjusts his stance, heel slightly turned, to keep the weak leg from catching. He hides it well. Too well.

You wondes if he practiced in the mirror.

Vhagar, meanwhile, lies coiled in the Dragonpit like a half-buried ruin. One of her wings has sagged like wet parchment, never to lift again. Some say she will die soon. Others say she dreams of fire.

You imagine telling Aemond: I remember the words. From the dream.

But instead you say nothing.

You smile when you hear him grunt. Make jokes about his bootlaces – when any other fool would’ve been sent to the Wall before he could ever finish the sentence (but how could he? You’re apparently very special)

You do this for him.

Because the dream had been real, yes.

But the world around you was not Valyria.

And this—this was your small, quiet loyalty. Pretending not to see.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough. Or that was too much. No matter how much mental effort you put into second-guessing and overthinking, your brain, this buzzing and hyperactive thing, couldn’t produce any reason – even the most nonsensical one – as why you’ve been dismissed.

And not even directly!

The first hint comes when the old woman with bad knees and stiff fingers arrives in your place, fumbling with a salve she can't pronounce. You are not sent for. Not the next day, either. Or the day after that.

No formal letter. No dismissal spoken aloud. Just silence where once there were folded linens, fresh poultices, little bottles of poppy and powdered pearlroot. No more of that strange incense smell lingering near his bedside—rosewater, burnt wormwood, and something faintly metallic, like old copper.

You go to the quartermaster one day. He brushes your off, muttering something close to ‘his highness’ orders’, with almost pitying, and which is strange, unsettled look in his face.

You are offended, naturally. But you nod, stiffly. And go around your other duties.

Aemond had no use for the word ‘love’. It was a word from bawdy tavern ballads, or worse, sappy poems in the library that no one read. It was used by men who cried curled in the whore’s lap while they silently counted their coin.

No, he had a problem. A you-shaped problem.

Just imagine: He’s sweating through his undershirt, the brace on his leg itching like fire, and he’s holding himself together with one good hand and the last sliver of dignity he hasn’t already bled out over this fucking war — and then you are again. Of course you are. Always quiet, always efficient, with your too-clever unsmiling eyes and those small fucking hands that touch, prod and cut open abscesses without hesitation.

You had knelt before him to buckle his brace, and Aemond breathes in on one, two, three - deeply. And holds it for several seconds.

He had to grip the edge of the bench—grip it, hard, with white-knuckled fingers—because your hand brushed his thigh and his body reacted. Not like some court poet's swoon. Not like some helpless, shivering boy. No—like a beast. Like something starved.

Your hands are light. Brisk. Efficient. You never fumble, not even when your knuckles accidentally linger near his groin. Not even when you tug it too tight and he grunts, and you let out a breath through your nose—soft, like don’t be such a baby, but not unkind.

You say nothing. Keeps lacing. Keeps pretending not to feel his pulse under your fingers, hammering away like a caged creature, because his heart felt too big for his body and its beating echoing even in the soles of his feet.

His hand, useless as it is, twitches once. He doesn’t mean to let it fall to your shoulder, not really—only the edge, only to steady himself. You do not flinch. You also don’t look at him.

He wonders—desperately—if you know

The moment stretches like hot wax. Then you tie the last knot, adjust the padding and step back, looking at your work.

“There,” you say, as if you’d mended a curtain. “You’ll need a new brace for that leg. The swelling’s down. I’ll adjust it later.”

He nods. Like an idiot. Doesn’t speak.

You pick up the linen and walk out the door with the quiet grace of someone who absolutely knows what you just did to the motherfucker

He does not move for a long moment, head in his hands, for longer than he will ever admit.

You are too soft. Too unafraid. You do not know what it does to him, your small hands tightening a bandage near his ribs while humming under your breath. The casual way you walk into his room without fear, kneel before him to adjust the brace on his ruined leg like you’re checking a hinge on a cabinet. You lean too close. Look him in the eye too long. Speak his name too gently.

He is not a gentle man.

He has felt his temper rage hot, seen it boil over in fire and steel. He has fought beneath the belly of a dying dragon and killed enough men to know what he’s capable of when he breaks. And he will break, if you keep doing what you do. Standing so close. Tending him like you don't know what he is.

So—no. It’s not safe.

You’re the only one who’s seen him completely undone. Limping. Fevered. Mewling into the mattress as you changed the linens soaked in sweat and other humiliations. You cleaned his fucking bedpan, and didn’t blink. Wiped blood from his gums. Steadied him when he vomited up milk of the poppy and bile in equal measure. Demonstrated appalling loyalty in a way that should be humiliating and undignified but you carried yourself with such grace so Aemond could not use this word while actually meaning it.

And now you’re kneeling in front of him, mouth slightly open while you tie the brace, and all he can think about is that little pink mouth. How you’d taste. How you’d sound. What you’d say if he gave in.

He could see it too clearly, feel it, how easy it would be. You are small, pliable. You trust him. Trust him utterly. You’d offered him water and tucked the hem of his tunic without asking and smiled when he hissed as the brace scraped raw his knee. All he had to do was reach. Just a flick of his hand, your wrist in his palm, the other around your throat—

No.

NO.

He’d taken a whore once, in the Street of Silk. She’d laughed while he fumbled, older, knowing, cruel. He’d not gone back. Not since. It wasn’t want that he’d felt that night. It was a dull ache. A theory. A duty to manhood. He had not even come.

But this—this was not theory.

He’d read about it, heard it in whispers and in sloppy written novels that bored him to death even while listening the retelling. Something about ‘ravishing’ and ‘restraint’ and ‘temptation’ and ‘the flex of hand and the white-hot desire when she leaned on his arm while getting out of wheelhouse’. He heard about it and laughed because he thought that inaction is easier than the action and being tempted by other’s flesh is a skill issue. But now, it makes horrifying, undeniable sense.

This was a blight, rotting through his marrow. This was a fever with no cure. Not in the poetic sense. Not in some metaphor scrawled in a bard’s song. His hands physically. fucking. itch. As if his body is saying: Do something.

Touch you back. Press a hand to your throat. Slide a palm along the arch of your spine and see if you make a sound.

Take.

What if I don't hold back?

What if I break?

What if I want so much I ruin you for it?

And that thought — that one — is what breaks him.

Because he would. Would ruin you.

Not out of malice. But out of magnitude. Because he doesn’t know how to want gently. Never learned how. Never needed to.

And you are so close. Your mouth is soft and unsmiling, and you smell like wormwood and crushed lemon leaf and not fear. And him being a cripple would not stop him from tugging you down and forcing himself on you, but you seem to be unaware.

That’s the worst of it.

You are not afraid of him.

You should be.

So he assigns someone else.

No fanfare. No notice. No explanation.

He speaks to the quartermaster in the same breath as ordering his boots polished and his ledgers updated.

“Replace them. Give them other duties.”

The new handmaid is terrified of him. She drops his shirt the first time she dresses him. That’s fine. Good.

You never come again.

And he doesn’t see your expression when you hear about it. Doesn’t hear you say “Oh. Okay.” in that small, neutral voice. Doesn’t see the way your hands freeze just briefly over the jar of salve, then move on.

But he imagines it. Daily.

He lies awake thinking about you not being there. And it hurts less than you being there. And somehow that is worse than anything.

Aegon finds it hilarious.

“Gods,” he wheezes, slouched against small mountain of pillows. “The mighty Prince Regent, the One-Eyed Terror of the Riverlands, reduced to a blushing maiden because little [name] doesn’t say hello with a smile anymore—”

He pauses for effect, then lets out a strangled little hic, laughter shaking his ribs.

Aemond says nothing. As usual. Just stands there with his arms crossed, eye twitching like he’s trying to kill Aegon with his mind. But he immediately feels bad about the lingering thought because Aegon says this from beneath approximately eleven pounds of bandages, bitter poultices, and a crushed ego. He’s propped up with pillows, his hair hasn’t been brushed in a week, and his chamber reeks of burnt lavender and dragon rot—but his eyes are sharp again, and that’s dangerous. Aegon sharp is always worse than Aegon stupid.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Aegon goes on, grinning like a devil. “It’s adorable. You’ve got that haunted, pining look. Like a widow in mourning.”

He wipes at his face with his sleeve. “Tell me, when did it happen, hm? Was it the poison thing? Or was it when they were elbow-deep in your guts, tending to your fevered nonsense while you muttered sweet nothings in High Valyrian?”

Aemond’s knuckles flex.

“You really dismissed them?” Aegon asks, incredulous. “Truly? I thought that was a rumor. Gods be good. You daft, self-flagellating virgin.”

“I am not a—”

“Oh, you’re a spiritual virgin. Same thing.”

“I’m Prince Regent—”

“You’re blue-balled and spiralling!”

Aemond turns out to stride off dramatically, forgetting about the pain and the limp.

Then:

“...do you want me to talk to them?”

Aemond turns very slowly.

“No.”

“I’ll be sweet.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll say you write poetry.”

“Aegon—”

“‘Oh [name], my soul doth ache / For thy foul starched apron and poisoned cake—’”

Aemond purses his lips, muscles twitch in his jaw. His hair whipping in the air as he practically bolts to the door, to save himself from humiliation in case Aegon notices his furiously blushing ears.

Aegon calls after him with an evil little grin, “Don’t worry! They’re not speaking to you, but I bet they’d still change your chamber pot if you shat yourself.”

Door slams.

Aegon kicks his feet up, toasts his cup of the herbal tea to the empty air, and says to no one in particular, “I give it a week.”

[vividxpages]

✩‧˚౨ৎ˚✩₊ The Great War PART 2₊✩‧˚౨ৎ˚✩‧

PART 1 + PART 3

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 2800

summary: after meeting Jace by the shore of the sea in secret, the Blacks do everything to reunite the two of you. But will you make it to him safely? And how much are you both willing to risk for each other?

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, arguments and tears, kissing, happy ending

a/n: Part 1 has gotten such love, I needed to write a little sequel. Hope you like it <3

𓆩♡𓆪

Always remember Uh-huh, tears on the letter I vowed not to cry anymore If we survived the Great War

It was like every cell of your being was fueled with fire when you returned to King’s Landing much later that night. Vignettes of the beach and Jace were replaying themselves in your mind, making you walk towards your chambers as if in a trance.

You had seen him again.

You had kissed him goodbye as if it was your last time, although he had whispered promises into your ear that it wouldn’t be. Be alert, stay safe, he had said to you between those last breathless kisses. Mother and I will figure out something.

You smiled to yourself, feeling as if the world suddenly looked just a little brighter, although the corridor in front of you was only lit by torches on the wall.

If had been any more concentrated, you would’ve seen him first.

A shadow slipped from the darkness and before you could scream out or even blink, your older brother had pushed you against the hard stone wall, caging you in and scanning your face with his one remaining eye.

“Taking a walk at midnight, sister?” Aemond rasped out and you wanted to squirm away from him, the sudden unpleasant encounter washing all those happy moments from before away. As you tried to slip past him, he caught your wrist so hard, it hurt.

“Let go of me, Aemond.” You gritted your teeth, struggling against his much stronger hold of you.

“What would mother say if she heard you were without a chaperone, hm?” He challenged you, a cruel smile on his face. “Or even worse…what will our great king say if he learns you’ve been with the enemy?”

Everything in you froze at his implication.

You stared at him with wide eyes, heavily breathing. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” You finally ripped your hand free and resisted the urge to caress the burn in your wrist. This would come later, in the safety of your chambers.

Suddenly, you became painfully aware of how you looked. The disheveled hair, rosy cheeks from the cold by the sea, plump lips bruised from kissing… At least, Jace had been careful enough not to leave purple blue flowers on your neck.

Aemond regarded you with an unreadable expression, crossing his hands behind his back. “I’m not saying anything, since you surely are reminded your place and have not crossed paths with our enemies, am I right, dear sister? But if I catch you riding your dragon to where Vhagar can’t have an eye on you, I’ll shoot you out of the sky myself.”

You stared at each other for a very long time. You hated how mute you were always becoming in your brother’s presence, how powerless they both made you feel, like every bravery Jacaerys had breathed into you had suddenly vanished. A flame blown out by ice cold wind.

“Sleep well.” Aemond whispered before he walked away from you.

With each of his leaving steps, you could breathe a little more freely.

ㅤ♡☁︎⋆｡˚

The following weeks only continued to darken the clouds on your horizon.

A concerning new routine found its way into your days, sleeping in late and staying in bed as you watched the grey sky outside your window. Food you only accepted when you really needed to and although your mother gave you concerning and sometimes scolding looks, no one really cared about how you spent your meaningless days.

You had not attended council and you didn’t believe Aegon was going to let you again any time soon. Helaena sometimes visited you, but she spoke in riddles and could not comfort you. The only person who could haunted your dreams and was miles and miles away, across the Blackwater Bay and out of reach.

Jace had told you to be patient and alert, but it was getting harder to get out of bed every day.

“An afternoon refreshment, my princess.”

You looked away from your window, just as the servant turned away from you and left the room. On the table near your bed, a plate of small cakes and fruit waited for you and in the middle of it, was a small roll of parchment.

You furrowed your brows. No one in the castle sent messages to you.

You slowly unrolled it, your eyes reading over the words written, but not quite understanding them yet.

Tomorrow night. We’ll stage a distraction. North gate. We’ll meet you over the Gullet.

Your head snapped up and hope filled your chest once more.

♡☁︎⋆｡˚

You squinted your eyes once more as you looked over your shoulder, the massive fire at the feet of the Red Keep painting the night red. The Blacks had outdone themselves; every eye of the city was looking towards the destruction the flames caused.

How poetic. You were leaving your home behind unseen, unheard, while it burned.

You focused on the way ahead of you, the dark sea underneath you and your dragon sparkling underneath the moonlight. You concentrated on the rhythmical wing swing and the prospect of arriving at Dragonstone soon, once again reunited with Jacaerys. Forever this time.

You were not coming back. The next time you’d face your family, you would stand on the other side of this war. And you were ready for it.

But so was Aemond.

A giant beast suddenly busted through the clouds beneath you, your scream being swallowed by Vhagar’s roar as Aemond stirred her towards you. You threw yourself to the right, barely slipping past her giant maw as it snapped shut only inches away from your dragon’s wing.

You heard Aemond screaming your name in fury.

“Naejot!“ You screamed, urging your dragon on to go faster, impossibly faster than the beast chasing you. Your heart was pounding all the way up into your throat as you heard Vhagar roaring behind you. One command from Aemond and you’d fall into the ocean like a burned star. You silently prayed the Gullet was almost under you, praying for just another day, just one more-

“Dracarys!”

You braced yourself, thinking of the dark eyes you had loved so much one more time.

But the dragon fire did not come.

Not for you, at least.

♡☁︎⋆｡˚

You still had no idea how Rhaenys had reached you in time or why Aemond had decided to flee then.

Perhaps, you were not worth the fight.

You would’ve never thought to be so thankful at such an idea.

You barely had the time to thank Rhaenys before you had been led through the darkness around Dragonstone, still needing to stay invisible until you had reached the safety inside those walls.

And once you reached them, Jacaerys was there, pulling you tightly against his chest and holding you as if you could simply vanish with the wind every second. You had allowed him to look you over, still shaken and with your mind still on this disastrous flight before he had led you to the hall where his parents had been anxiously waiting.

When you had sat down and his hand had slipped out of yours, you already wanted it back.

But first, they needed to know what had happened out there.

You still couldn’t believe your brother had really wanted to kill you.

After you had finished, Daemon sympathetically pushed over his goblet with wine and you gratefully took it and resisted the urge to chug it back in one gulp.

“How could this have happened?” Jace had been thundering for a while now, walking up and down the room, tense and still out of his mind with worry for you. “Our sources have told us Vhagar has been away from King’s Landing earlier today.”

It seemed like not even the queen had an answer for it.

But you had. You sat up a little straighter, biting your lip before you looked into the flames next to you and spoke. “Aemond has been getting suspicious. He knew of our meeting by the sea and…he had warned me not to pursue it again.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon looked at you with surprise, but Jace was a whole different story.

“What?” He looked at you with wild disbelief. “So you are telling me you’ve went out tonight even though you knew Aemond could’ve caught you and done what not to you?”

“What do you think I should’ve done instead?” You asked him quietly, barely a whisper.

He fixed you with a wide-eyed stare, his fingers trembling as he raked them through his curls. “Perhaps not shown up to our invitation if you knew Aemond was suspicious?” He suggested shakingly. “We would’ve found another way without risking your life.”

“There is no other way, Jace!” You shot back, just as hot-headed as he was now. Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a look over the table, perhaps thinking of their own heated discussions in the past. You drew the blanket you had been given tighter around yourself, taming your tongue. “I would’ve died in that castle, one way or another. I might as well could’ve tried to reach you before my end.”

“Do not talk of such things.” Jace whispered, shaking his head. You saw his brown eyes getting teary at the mere thought of it. “Do not-“

“It doesn’t matter now-“

“It matters to me!” He exploded and you leaned back, shocked at his sudden outburst.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Rhaenyra said calmly, jaw tense. “I think this night has been eventful enough for the two of you. We will deal with everything in the morning, but now I believe you should retire. Jace’s room has been readied for the two of you. We are glad to have you with us here, my dear, we truly are.”

The tension could’ve been cut with a knife as you walked back to Jacaerys’ room.

You had started to shiver, the wet strands of your hair clinging to your neck, clothes ruined and dirty by the stormy weather between the clouds. When the door closed behind you and you took off the blanket, you hissed with pain.

“What is it?” Jace looked at you, alarmed. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. “Not really, but…I think when I took a turn in the sky, one of the reigns came loose and cut me.” It would explain the burning pain in your shoulder. When you tried to raise your arm to take a look, a sudden whimper tore through you.

Jace was in front of you in an instant, steadying you as he intently looked at your face. “Don’t move too much. I’ll take a look at it, okay?”

“It’s fine…” You did not feel fine.

“Let me help.” Jace said, adding in a whisper: “Please.”

It was quiet once again between you as he slowly led you to the edge of his bed. It would’ve been romantic if you hadn’t been such a mess, but Jacaerys did not seem to care about your appearance. He walked around his room with a mission, collecting a warm washcloth from the basin and a bandage, just in case.

You watched him silently as he went on his knee in front of you and slowly started to peel away your rider’s jacket from your shoulder. You breathed through your teeth as the fabric came away bloody, the burn of the rope worse than you had expected. Now, with the adrenaline leaving your body, the pain came knocking at your door.

Jace grimaced at your pain, intertwining your hand with one of his own as the other gently began to dab at the cut, making you wince with every little motion. “Sorry.” He mumbled, his thumb brushing soothingly over your palm. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped some time ago. That’s good.”

You nodded, still mute and exhausted as you let him take care of you. You almost wanted to sink back into his sheets and simply disappear in them.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper like this.” He said quietly after a while as he wrung out the cloth into the small basin to his feet. “I should’ve stayed composed, especially after the night you had. You are braver than all of us, ñuha jorrāeliarzy. I just- I could never forgive myself if something happened to you. We were thoughtless with this idea and impulsive and-“

“And I am glad of it.” You interrupted him softly. You argued with yourself if you should tell him how you had slowly rotted away in King’s Landing, withering without his light and the love his family embraced you with.

“You’ve gotten hurt.” He interjected gravely.

“Which wasn’t your fault.”

“But-“

You raised a hand, wanting to cup his cheek, but quickly stopped when it burned.

Jace was still kneeling in front of you, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips so he could softly kiss your knuckles. You could almost smell how worried he was about you, how he was still battling with himself, making himself think this was his fault. He brushed back a lost curl from your face and smiled sadly. “I forget myself. You’ve had a long journey. I do not want you to suffer even more, I’ll go fetch a Maester.”

“It’s only a scratch.” You joked tiredly, which earned you a doubting look. “Please, Jace. I’ll be fine until morning. I just need you. I’ve longed to be with you like this again for so long.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He said hoarsely, slowly rising to his feet, adoration burning in his eyes. “I could barely stay calm all day. Perhaps I’ve dreamed up that you’re here now.  If so, I never want to wake up again.”

You smiled at him, a real smile this time. “Then I’ll be dreaming with you, Jace.”

And finally, you could see a smile on his face too. “I will get some clothes for you.”

Quietness came down on the room once more, the comfortable kind this time.

You watched from the bed as Jace rummaged through his closet and pulled out one of his longer tunics, all warm cotton and his scent coating it. He helped you with your shoes, insisting that you should not move a finger anymore tonight. He lovingly kissed your ankles and took the most care that you wouldn’t have to lift your injured arm too much as he slid the piece of clothing over your form.

“There.” He looked at you warmly as you shuffled back into the sheets. “Gods, I have missed seeing you in my clothes. My bed.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, although you knew you did not have the strength anymore to do exactly what you wanted to do with him. Your muscles were sore and your bandaged shoulder only good for one night, but you knew Jace was going to wait a lifetime for you if he had to.

Perhaps a whole lifetime laid ahead for the two of you now.

You nestled yourself against his chest as he slipped beneath the covers with you, sighing happily as your head fit perfectly into the place where his neck met his strong shoulder. A dark curl was tickling your forehead and as he closed his arms around you, one leg shifting to fit between your thigh, you knew you were home.

You listened to the sound of him breathing, your bruised hearts slowly calming down until you were sure they were beating in sync. Only a few candles by the bed lit the room and you felt yourself slowly drift into a well-deserved sleep.

But there was one thing still tormenting your love’s mind.

“It’s just…” Jacaerys whispered into the darkness of his room. You could feel him swallow tightly, his fingers trying to calm himself by caressing your spine. “Tonight made me think of Luke. And knowing you’ve been up there, with Vhagar so close to you- I can’t lose you, my love. I can’t.”

You shuffled until you could look at him, chest aching at the unshed tears in his beautiful eyes.

“You won’t lose me.” You promised him, wiping away his tears. “You will never lose me, Jace, I promise you. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

He sniffled, but nodded fiercely. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered and lifted his chin so you could kiss him.

The kiss by the beach had grown into a wildfire, untamed and fueled by the desperation of wanting each other for so long. This one made you dizzy for a different reason.

There was a final calmness to it as your lips softly moved against each other, tasting every second like the world only slowed down for you. It was slow and relishing, like the first breath of fresh air after a lifetime of holding your breath. Your nose brushed against his as your hand found its way into his curls and if your shoulder had been any healthier, he would’ve hoisted you into his lap.

But unlike the other times you had come together, you had all the time in the world now.

And tomorrow, the sun would rise and shine just a little brighter, because you had finally found each other.

-------------------

(I'm writing a third and final part 3, so let me know if anyone would like to be tagged when I post it 🥰🎀)

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Morning After

(A Sequel to Ace in the Hole)

A commission from the lovely @spoczkot :)

Cw: miscommunication, insecurity, gambling, oral sex, vaginal sex, tentacles, double penetration, sensory deprivation

male shadow monster x afab reader

Some beautiful art of our lovely shadow monster

Word count: 5k

Most days, you woke up suddenly, to an alarm or a nagging feeling that there was something you needed to do. 

You absolutely hated it. The sudden shift from sleep to the waking world. It always left you feeling anxious and restless. 

The best way to wake up in the morning was the was you were waking up now. Slowly, barely able to tell where your dreams ended and where the light, silky blankets began. You drifted slowly, softly, back into consciousness, and finally, when you were good and ready, you opened your eyes.

All you could see was black. 

You blinked, confused and disoriented, half convinced you’d just forgotten to open your eyes. 

When the darkness persisted, a spike of panic ran through you. 

You wanted to reel backwards but you didn’t know where you were or what was blocking out your vision. 

You felt a warm presence at your side and pulled away from it, sending yourself tumbling off the edge of the unfamiliar bed. 

The bed. You could see it now, sprawled across the floor, tangled up in a blanket you’d ungraciously taken with you in your panicked frenzy.

A low voice grumbled from the bed, you presumed disturbed by the newfound lack of blankets and the sound of someone falling to the floor beside him. 

You managed a sheepish smile as you gathered your bearings, the events of the night before surfacing in your mind. 

You were here, with Nocturne. 

A pitch-black face peeked over the edge of the bed as he rose from sleep more gracefully than you had. 

“You having fun down there?” he asked, his morning voice a little gravelly.

You nodded, pushing his blankets back onto the bed as you clambered to your feet. 

“Didn’t take you for that much of a clutz,” he said, a teasing lilt ever-present in his voice.

You smiled, sliding back under the covers. “I’m not really, I just don’t usually wake up blind. I feel like that’s excusable.”

He was so hard to read, his void of a presence difficult to gather coherent facial expressions from if you didn’t know what you were looking for, but you saw him tense for a moment before turning to the clock at his bedside. 

“Fuck, I’m late.”

He rose from the bed in a hurry, haphazardly grabbing clothes from his closet and throwing them on, you all but forgotten in his bed. 

You took the hint, rising beside him to grab your own things, admittedly in less of a hurry to leave than he seemed to be. 

He paused, shifting to look over his shoulder to look at you as you gathered your things, pulling your clothes on quickly. 

He shook his head. “No, you don’t have to leave. You can stay as long as you want.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t actually want you in his apartment on your own, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless, that he was at least being as gracious as he could.

You waved him off, working quickly towards making yourself scarce despite the feeling inside your chest tugging at you, pleading with you to stay. 

But you didn’t want to stay, not really. Not with him gone.  

Upon seeing that you were set on leaving he slowed, his frenzy calming seemingly to ensure he could leave with you. 

It was a considerate gesture yet still it pulled a thread of guilt tight inside you, at inconveniencing him, holding him back from whatever he had to do. 

You left at the same time, him being a perfect gentleman for you all the while, holding the door open for you and giving you a gracious nod as he headed on his way.

You spent most of your day debating whether or not you should show up at the casino that night. Would it look desperate? It probably would but to be honest, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Would he want you there? 

When you got particularly nervous you couldn’t help but imagine him turning you away, deciding he was done with you, or pretending not to know you at all. You weren’t sure which would hurt worse. 

But in the end, you couldn’t keep yourself away. It would take more self-control than you had on hand

You’d never been so nervous walking in before. It felt like everyone was looking at you. When you looked up, you saw Nocturne. His lack of features did nothing to disguise the fact he was staring at you. 

You settled at his table, and he dealt cards while looking straight at you, his face entirely unreadable. 

You had gotten no better at poker, despite his ‘lessons.’  In fact, you’d say you’d gotten much much worse. 

You lost all your chips incredibly fast, not pacing yourself like you normally did, far too frazzled for that. In about an hour, your entire budget meant for your next visit was gone. 

Part of you hoped maybe you’d be familiar enough with him soon that you wouldn’t need to come here every other week anymore. But maybe that was wishful thinking. 

Everything in you wanted to go get more chips so you could return to his table with an easy excuse but you were already running ahead of what you should have spent this week. 

So instead you waited, hoping he’d come up to you when his shift was done. 

And so you sat, with about two hours ahead of you, waiting for midnight to come and for him to get off work. 

You didn’t have much to do in the meantime. Normally you headed out as soon as you lost but part of you thought, or maybe just hoped, that he’d come talk to you. 

Even if nothing came of it, you couldn’t leave without at least talking to him. 

Not after last night. 

You were incredibly bad at looking busy, it seemed, stirring a drink you didn’t want halfheartedly as you waited. 

You tried not to feel too self-conscious. Other people were idling around you, you were far from the only loiterer, but you just felt like you were doing it wrong. 

As long as you didn’t look too out of place, you supposed it didn’t matter. 

And so there you sat, staring at the little whirlpool you’d formed in your drink as you waited, trying not to look up too much. You imagined it would only serve to make you look more nervous and flighty. 

This determination to keep your head down meant that when someone cleared their throat next to you, you almost jumped out of your skin. 

Your head jerked up to find a familiar, dark face.

He leaned back a little, looking almost sheepish. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to say I’m sorry about this morning. I thought maybe you could come over again and I could make it up to you?”

“More lessons?” You weren’t sure if you were more excited or nervous about this turn of events. 

What did he want? Just a repeat of last time? Probably. You set yourself on being grateful for it either way. 

“Whatever you’d like.” He reached out to take your hand before clearly thinking better of it, pulling back as you followed him out of the casino and back to a familiar apartment. 

The mood was decidedly different from the night before. 

He shuffled off towards the kitchen immediately, looking back at you standing near the door. 

“Come in,” he said, beckoning you forward. “What would you like?”

“What?”

He gestured back towards the kitchen. “To eat. I’m afraid I was a terribly rude host last night, I didn’t make you anything.”

You shook your head dismissively. “You weren’t rude.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Anyways, what do you want.”

“You really don’t have to-” you tried to insist before he cut you off. 

“And yet I’m going to. You’re not going to decide anything, are you? That’s fine. Do you like pasta?”

You gave him a small nod and he immediately started pulling out pots and boxes and fresh ingredients faster than you could keep track of them.

You wanted to help but you didn’t know where to start. He moved so swiftly and fluidly through the kitchen that it felt like any attempt to assist would hinder him more than anything. 

You hesitantly moved to his side, asking a quiet, “What should I do?”

He gave you an amused glance. “Nothing. I’m making it for you, your job is just to sit back.”

You frowned, a crinkle forming between your brows. “I want to help.”

“You really don’t have to.” His voice was soft and low and you could feel your cheeks heat at the sound of it. 

“But I want to,” you said, giving him what you hoped was a winning smile. “Now what are we making?”

He let out a fond little sigh and then put you to work. It was not lost on you that he was giving you the easiest tasks but you didn’t mind, you were happy with the compromise, so long as you were being helpful. 

What made less sense to you than his insistence that you let him do most of the work was the way he made a point to stay away from you, keeping a careful distance as he moved gracefully about his tasks. Whenever you drew nearer to him he always found a convenient excuse to move to the other end of the kitchen. 

At one point you reached out to grab the handle of a pan at the exact time he did and he pulled back before your hands had a chance to meet, almost like he’d been burned. You couldn’t help but worry you’d done something to upset him and that was why he was keeping his distance. But then why would he invite you here?”

So you tested the waters, intentionally bumping into him a few times, trying to make it as casual as you could.

He seemed nervous about it more than anything, almost leaning away as you got close to him. 

You felt him go completely stiff as you brushed up next to him, your arms barely touching. 

“You should be more careful,” he said, and you pulled away, embarrassment coloring your face. 

But he hadn’t asked you to stop, he’d asked you to be more careful. Surely if he wanted you to stay away, he’d tell you as much. 

So you pressed on, brushing up against him on occasion, desperate to figure out what was clearly making him uncomfortable so you could fix it. 

The problem with touching him, which you wanted nothing more than to do, was it rendered you functionally useless. If you so much as bumped against him you were left grasping blindly for utensils and sticking your hands out in front of you to try desperately not to bump into anything. 

It made you feel like an idiot. When he had to grab your hand to avoid you smacking it right into the hot stove that you would’ve sworn was feet away, you sheepishly stepped back from him, determined to stop making a fool of yourself. 

But as soon as you both strayed far enough away from the stove you were back at his side, brushing against him again. 

Your hand shifted around, feeling for a spoon in the dark, refusing to move away from his side as he just stood there. He wasn’t pulling away for once, you weren’t about to ruin this. 

It wasn’t entirely unselfish. You wanted to touch him, you liked having him close. At least when he wasn’t desperately pulling away from you. 

You heard a low chuckle and then a voice right next to you said, “Open your mouth,” his words moving hot air over your neck. 

You did, patient and trusting, and were rewarded with a mouthful of warm food, delicious on your tongue.

“It’s amazing,” you declared, determined to show him how much you appreciated everything he was doing for you. 

“Good, I’m glad.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

And then he pulled away and color bloomed back into your vision, leaving you feeling more disoriented than when it had been black.

“So what did you get up to today?” you asked, leaning back against the cold marble of the countertops.  

He shrugged. “Nothing much, mainly just working.”

“Oh.” You’d hoped he’d at least pretend to have a reason he’d rushed off this morning. 

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t really sure why he’d invited you over at all. You’d clearly misread the situation, at least some part of it. He didn’t want to be close to you, had lied to you. All the evidence felt overwhelming. You were being a fool. There was nothing to figure out, you were taking advantage of his hospitality. He didn’t want you here, of course that was why he was pulling away. What other reason would there be?

His head cocked to the side. “What did I say? You look like a kicked puppy.”

“No, it’s fine, I can take a hint. I really didn’t mean to impose, now or this morning.”

He froze. “Oh my god, I forgot. This morning I was… I… No, you caught me, it was an excuse.”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “Right, understood. I should go.”

He reached out to grab you and then stopped, pulling back again. “Don’t go,” he settled for instead, sighing out the words with both of his hands firmly at his sides. 

You shook your head. “I really don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not. It wasn’t an excuse for me.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t… I just wanted to give you an out.”

“An out? You were the one who left, you said I could stay.”

He sighed. “Not from my apartment, from me.”

You flinched back. “I get it, I understand not wanting some stranger to stick around, I promise in the future you can just tell me that. You didn’t have to lie.”

He groaned. “No, it’s not like that. I like you, I really do. You’re sweet. I thought you’d stick around just to be kind, I didn’t want to make you think you had to stay just because we slept together.”

You started to laugh as soon as he got the words out, unable to control the instinct. He stared at you in clear confusion until you managed to force out the words between giggles. “I was thinking the same thing about you. You know, I was trying so hard to be casual, I guess I fooled you a bit too well. Why would you think I wanted to leave anyway? I was clearly crazy about you. I was there constantly fawning over you and you thought I wanted to leave?”

“It’s not that crazy. I saw how scared you were when you woke up. I know I’m not exactly a convenient person to be around. Plenty of people are attracted to me, sure, it’s cool and sexy to be stuck in the dark like that, but it’s not something people want forever. People try blindfolds on for a fun, kinky night, they don’t do it every day. You can’t hold hands with me on walks, would have to avoid touching me if you wanted to do basically anything. I’ve been here before, the novelty wears off fast and I get left behind with it. Figured it was good to give you an out. And sometimes, maybe, it’s a little easier to leave first. Hurts less that way.”

You froze for a moment, unsure what to say. You leaned forward a bit, half intent on hugging him but as you watched him tense up once again, you leaned back into the counter. 

“You know,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I had the biggest crush on you for ages. It wasn’t just about your quick fingers and card tricks, although I have to admit, they didn’t hurt,” you said with a smile. “I first came there, to see you, because my friend said you were sweet. She said you made sure she felt safe there, that you kept a guy who was bothering her away. But more than that, you made her laugh afterwards, cheered her up. I had no idea how right she was. You always paid attention to me, made me laugh the whole time I lost, and let me hang around after.  At first, I thought it was some sort of tactic, a way to get better tips, and I didn’t mind. But you never really seemed to pay that much attention to anyone else and I thought that it was awfully considerate of you to at the very least make sure I didn’t see when you did, to try and make me feel special, because surely that was all it could be. And even that gave me butterflies. You were so sweet and funny, but it couldn’t be anything more than that. So when you decided to take me home last night I was so excited not because it was some fun fantasy, but because it was you, and because you wanted me. You’re not a blindfold, you’re a person. And I can get gloves for walks or you can help guide me or.. I don’t know, I haven’t had much time to think about it, but I’m sure we could figure something out. If you wanted to, that is, I don’t…”

And then his mouth was on yours and the words you’d been saying faded away entirely.

His hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you close, as he pulled you with him, slowly and steadily leading you somewhere, your mouths never parting. 

The two of you fell back onto the couch and you didn’t even flinch at the movement. You trusted him, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

In the position you’d fallen into, you were on top of him, pinning him to the back of the couch. 

He didn’t seem to mind, two of his tendrils snaking around your hips to pull you even closer, his hips just barely bucking up, begging for friction. 

You gave it to him, grinding down on him as his tongue grazed the seam of your lips and you opened them to allow him inside. 

He deepened the kiss eagerly, thumb stroking your cheek gently, sinking back into the couch to bring you further over him. 

And then you smelled burning. 

You pulled away from the kiss, trying to look towards the kitchen before realizing that you couldn’t. 

He rose to try and meet your lips once more, tendrils trying to pull you back towards him. 

You resisted the urge to give in to him, instead muttering a quiet, “Do you smell that?”

He flew off the couch and was in the kitchen in a second, taking the delicious food that had been basically finished and that you’d barely gotten a taste of off the stove. 

He took a quick peek inside and you could tell in an instant that it was ruined as he dropped it into the sink with a sigh.

His hands rose to cover his face as he looked back at you, sitting disheveled on the couch and you swore if he were human, he’d be a bright red right now. 

“I just wanted to make you dinner, oh my god,” he said, his voice muffled by his palms. “Some date this is.”

You perked up instantly. “This is a date?”

His fingers shifted open so he could look at you. “Maybe. If that’s alright with you.”

A delighted laugh escaped you, unbidden, before you were throwing yourself at him again, lips crashing together as you pulled his hands away from his face. 

He took it in stride, hoisting you up onto the counter, which pulled a surprised little squeak from you.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down impatiently. You lifted yourself a little on the counter to allow him to pull them down, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh as he did.

“At last one of us should get to eat,” he muttered, nipping playfully at your thigh as you giggled, hands falling to tangle themselves in his hair. 

It really was a shame, you decided, that you couldn’t admire him like this, between your thighs. 

You whined out a quiet “please,” and he buried his face in your core in an instant, wasting no time and mercifully, making you beg no further. 

He ate you out like a man starved, hands firmly pressed into your hips, holding you close, keeping you unmoving as you tried to buck into his face. 

His tongue was longer than that of any man you’d been with before, snaking inside you before withdrawing so he could suck on your clit dutifully once more. 

He didn’t so much as come up to breathe, lapping relentlessly at you. You were sure most of his face was covered with your wetness at this point and he couldn’t seem to care less. 

You came like that, on his counter, his mouth working you over tirelessly. 

Your back arched, shifting into him even further, practically fucking his face as you came. 

Even as you came down from your orgasm he didn’t stop, tongue pressing deep inside of you as you let out whines of overstimulation. 

You tugged him back by the hair and didn’t need your vision to be able to imagine the smug little self-satisfied look that was plastered across his face, You’d seen it more than enough times. 

You shifted to move off the counter and his hands met your hips, pulling you off and making sure your feet reached the floor safely. 

You smiled at him as he led you back towards the couch and you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

“My turn,” you said, leaning down before a tendril wrapped around your chin and pulled you back up. 

“No, stay up here with me.”

You gave him a teasing grin. “Come on. I mean, you were supposed to feed me.

His grip on you remained unrelenting. “Please. I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice softer.

Who were you to deny him that?

Nimble fingers moved down, gentle and careful with you as they pushed inside you, and his lips met yours once more. 

He tasted of you, a little sweet, moans escaping him as you licked into his mouth, desperate to feel more of him.  

His fingers pulled out of you soon after he’d begun touching you and you couldn’t help but whine in displeasure.

Almost instantly his fingers were replaced by something thicker. He held tight to you as he pressed inside, slowly, until your hips met. 

The tendril inside you now, the one that sat right between his legs, refused to stay still, squirming around in your tight heat, pressing against you perfectly, your back arching up at the movements. 

He buried his head in your neck, his hands and tendrils alike keeping you close to him, as close together as two beings could be. 

“God, you feel so good, so good for me. My perfect girl.”

Your hips bucked up, try to get movement, to get more. 

He pressed soft kisses across your face as you hurtled towards a second orgasm, approaching much faster than the first. You were too far gone to kiss him back properly but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Everything was messy and disorienting and you couldn’t be more content in it all, gripping onto him, wanting everything he’d give you as long as he’d stay close like this. 

You were more than happy to let him do the work, to surrender to the sensations

As his hand absentmindedly stroked your lips, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, you took his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them dutifully, wanting as much of him as you could get. 

“If you wanted your mouth filled so badly you can have it, you just have to ask nicely. 

You let out a pleading noise. Talking felt impossibly hard, your thoughts moving slowly but desperately towards things that felt much more important than words, reaching for him again. 

In a moment, that was no longer an issue, a thick tentacle entering your waiting mouth, pressing down gently on your tongue, almost caressing as your mouth hung open. 

You came a second time like that, with one of his tendrils in your mouth as he thrusted in a steady rhythm inside of you. 

It was less slow and soft than the last one, hitting you suddenly and quickly, leaving you with nothing to do but hold onto him. You let out a cry and gripped him hard enough to leave bruises on any human as he fucked you through it.

The tendril currently in your mouth squirmed and you could practically feel him trying to keep it from pushing further inside, 

You moaned around it, unable to do much more than that as he thrusted hard and unforgiving into you, the rocking of his hips moving you in time with him. 

His arms held you as more and more of his tendrils snaked across your body, wanting to touch as much of you as they could, endlessly greedy. 

He grunted out the word “close” and as soon as he did, your mouth was suddenly empty again before impatient lips pressed against yours. You swallowed down his moans as he came inside you. His grip on your hips remained tight and you thought it just might leave marks. You hoped it would, wishing you could leave any on him in return. 

He pulled out of you with a little hiss and moved to walk away before your hand swiftly reached out, pulling him back toward you as quickly as you could. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said as you tugged him into a tight embrace. 

He chuckled. “As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I should clean us up.”

You leaned back into the couch with a huff before suddenly and without warning, you were being lifted. 

You sunk into his embrace, more than happy to be carried around. The sound of a tap turning on came from beside you but you ignored it, leaning into Nocturne’s chest. 

And then, unceremoniously, you were dropped onto a familiar, soft bed. 

Your vision returned for barely a moment before it was gone again, a warm cloth being stroked across your skin as he sunk into bed beside you, quietly cleaning both of you off as you snuggled into the covers. 

He tugged at your shirt and only now did you realize it was still on. It had been all but forgotten during sex but now he pulled it off indignantly, like it was a barrier too much. Like he needed to be able to touch you. He pulled it off with a little of your help, throwing it unceremoniously to the floor and burying his head in your neck. 

“No running off tomorrow morning, right?” you asked as your fingers carded through his hair. 

“Of course not,” he said, his breath tickling your skin as he spoke. “I think I owe you breakfast.”

You gave a content little hum, hoping breakfast tomorrow was at least a little more successful than dinner had been. 

Or maybe, upon reflection, you wouldn’t completely mind a repeat of tonight.

But then, you wouldn’t mind a cozy breakfast either. Wouldn’t mind eating across from him, not touching for a while so you could have the time to admire him. Wouldn’t mind eating in the dark so you could lean against him as you ate. 

No, you thought. You wouldn’t mind any of it. 

His tendrils snaked around your arms and waist to hold you close, all but trapping you against him, pulling you into a little cocoon of warmth as one grabbed the blankets and tucked them carefully around you. 

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss into the closest one. 

He let out a quiet groan, the tendril reaching to caress your face. 

Amidst the nest of tendrils you found yourselves cuddling inside of, you felt his hand reach for yours, your fingers entwining with his. 

“Next time,” he muttered, “I’m going to make you the best dinner you’ve ever eaten, mark my words.”

You felt your heart swell, holding him tighter as he spoke. 

Next time.

[bluelavendre]

Title: In His Shadow Sequel

Yandere Idol Jungkook X idol reader

All Fictional Ya'll!! hihi

You should read the first part first here

Enjoy!

-Bluellexoxo

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The warm aroma of coffee wafted through the cozy café, mingling with the soft hum of chatter and occasional bursts of laughter. The setting was picturesque—a bright morning with sunlight streaming through the large windows, illuminating the table where Y/N sat. But despite the seemingly cheerful scene, she felt a weight pressing down on her chest.

At her side sat Jungkook, his hand resting possessively on her thigh beneath the table. His smile was radiant as he engaged in animated conversation with his parents, who sat across from them. His mother’s soft laughter filled the air as she recounted old stories, and his father’s deep chuckles followed closely.

Across from Y/N sat Jennie, her best friend and unwavering support. Jennie’s eyes sparkled as she sipped her latte, occasionally chiming in with playful comments. She had been the one constant in Y/N’s life through every high and low, the anchor Y/N clung to when everything felt like it was spinning out of control.

Y/N smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Her lips curved upward as if on autopilot, a trained expression she had perfected over years of public appearances. She nodded and chimed in with polite affirmations whenever the conversation steered toward wedding details. But inside, her mind was elsewhere.

“Y/N-ah,” Jungkook’s mother said, drawing her attention back to the table. “Have you thought about what kind of flowers you’d like for the bouquet? I was thinking peonies—they’re so elegant, and they’d suit you beautifully!”

“Oh, yes,” Y/N replied, her voice soft, “peonies sound perfect.” She gave a slight nod, her fingers curling tightly around the handle of her coffee cup.

Jennie noticed the subtle tension in Y/N’s posture, the way her smile wavered for a fraction of a second. She reached across the table and gave Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze, her thumb brushing lightly over Y/N’s knuckles.

“Peonies would look amazing,” Jennie said with her trademark enthusiasm, stepping in to ease the pressure. “And with the venue you’ve chosen, they’ll add a nice pop of color!”

Y/N threw her a grateful glance, but it was fleeting. The weight of the discussion loomed over her like a dark cloud, and her mind drifted again, back to the lingering pain of her past.

Her parents’ voices echoed in her memory—harsh words and disappointed glares. They had been so proud of her once, envisioning a future where she’d follow a “respectable” path, perhaps becoming a doctor or a lawyer. But when she dropped out of school to chase her dream of becoming a performer, their pride turned to anger.

“You’ll regret this,” her mother had said coldly the day Y/N packed her bags and walked out. “Don’t expect us to pick up the pieces when this falls apart.”

Jennie had been there that night, standing outside in the rain, waiting for her. “Come on,” Jennie had said with a soft smile, holding out her umbrella. “You’ve got me. Let’s figure this out together.”

“Bub?” Jungkook’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked at her, concern flickering in his eyes. “You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Y/N blinked, her focus snapping back to the table. “Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, forcing a brighter smile. “I was just thinking about all the planning we still have to do.”

Jungkook grinned, clearly reassured. “Don’t worry, bub. We’ll handle it together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The irony of his words wasn’t lost on her. For someone who claimed to want to share everything, Jungkook had a way of making every decision feel like it wasn’t entirely hers to make.

His mother clapped her hands together, her excitement palpable. “This wedding is going to be the event of the year!” she declared. “We’re so proud to welcome you into our family, Y/N.”

Jennie caught the fleeting flicker of sadness in Y/N’s eyes, the way her shoulders stiffened at the mention of “family.”

“Yes, family,” Jennie chimed in, her voice light but with an edge of protectiveness. “And Y/N’s lucky to have such wonderful in-laws.” She smiled at Jungkook’s parents, but her hand brushed against Y/N’s knee under the table—a silent message that said, I see you. I’ve got you.

As the conversation carried on, Y/N sat in silence, her mind a swirling storm of emotions. She was grateful for Jennie’s presence, for the way her friend shielded her from questions that felt too invasive. But the pressure was mounting, and with each passing moment, Y/N felt herself slipping further into the role everyone expected her to play.

The perfect fiancée. The dutiful soon-to-be wife. The woman who had it all.

And yet, deep down, all she wanted was to breathe, to escape the walls closing in around her.

“When will the wedding be?” Jennie asked, her tone light but curious as she took a sip of her coffee.

Jungkook’s mom’s eyes lit up, clearly thrilled by the question. “Yes! We need to pick the perfect date,” she chimed in eagerly. “And don’t worry about timing. We can always send a request to give our Kookie a few months’ leave for the—”

“I—I think it’ll be best after Gguk’s enlistment,” Y/N blurted out, cutting off the older woman mid-sentence.

Her voice trembled slightly, but she masked it with a nervous smile, squeezing Jungkook’s hand for support. Her heart raced as the table went quiet for a beat, the sudden change in tone catching everyone off guard.

“R-right, bub?” Y/N added, glancing at Jungkook with an expression that begged him to back her up.

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at her. He tilted his head slightly, his long hair framing his face, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “If that’s what you want, bub,” he said gently, though there was a hint of curiosity in his tone, as if he were trying to read between the lines.

Jennie watched the exchange closely, her brow furrowing slightly, though she quickly hid her concern with a bright smile. “That sounds like a good idea,” she chimed in, breaking the brief silence. “You’ll have plenty of time to plan everything exactly how you want it, Y/N.”

Jungkook’s mom, however, seemed slightly disheartened. “Oh, but wouldn’t it be better to do it before? That way, you could start your married life together right away.”

Y/N’s fingers twitched slightly in Jungkook’s grasp, and she forced herself to keep smiling. “I just think it’ll be less stressful this way,” she explained quickly. “We don’t want to rush something so important.”

Jungkook’s dad nodded in agreement. “That’s fair. It’s better to wait and do it properly than to feel like you’re cramming it in.”

Jungkook’s mom reluctantly sighed but smiled. “If that’s what you both want, then of course, we’ll support it.”

Y/N let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her fingers remained intertwined with Jungkook’s, though her palms felt clammy. She hated how her decision felt like an excuse, but deep down, the thought of planning a wedding while juggling the weight of their strained relationship felt unbearable.

Jungkook leaned closer to her, his lips brushing against her temple as he whispered, “You sure about this, bub? We can talk about it later if you’re feeling unsure.”

His voice was soft, but there was a lingering note of concern. Y/N nodded quickly, plastering on another smile. “I’m sure,” she whispered back, though the turmoil inside her said otherwise.

Jennie, ever perceptive, caught the faint tension in Y/N’s voice. She reached across the table and nudged Y/N’s arm playfully. “Don’t stress too much, Y/N. It’s your wedding—it’s supposed to be fun!”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice quieter than she intended. “Fun.”

The rest of the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but Y/N found herself zoning out, her thoughts spiraling. She was grateful for Jennie’s subtle attempts to steer the focus away from the wedding, throwing in jokes and stories that had everyone laughing.

When the lunch ended, and everyone began to leave the café, Jennie pulled Y/N aside. “Hey,” Jennie said softly, her tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Y/N hesitated, looking over at Jungkook, who was busy saying goodbye to his parents. She forced a smile and nodded. “I’m fine, Jen.”

Jennie frowned but didn’t press further. “Just… if you ever need to talk, you know I’m here, right?”

“I know,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

As Jungkook came over, Jennie stepped back, giving them space. “Ready to go, bub?” he asked, his hand slipping around her waist.

Y/N nodded, leaning into him despite the unease twisting in her stomach.

The ride back to their shared penthouse was mostly silent. Jungkook hummed quietly to himself, his hand resting comfortably on Y/N’s thigh as he drove.

“You’ve been quiet,” he finally said, glancing at her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just tired,” Y/N lied, looking out the window to avoid his gaze.

Jungkook frowned but didn’t push her. Instead, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. “I’ll take care of you, bub. You don’t have to worry about anything, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that they could fix the cracks in their relationship. But as the city lights blurred past, she couldn’t shake the growing doubt in her heart.

When they arrived at Jungkook’s penthouse, the familiar space welcomed them with its modern, minimalist charm. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the city skyline, glowing with the soft hues of twilight. Jungkook kicked off his shoes at the door and took a slow, deliberate look around the expansive living room, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“We need a bigger fortress,” he said suddenly, a sly smile playing on his lips as he glanced back at Y/N.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his comment. She tilted her head slightly, a mix of confusion and curiosity in her expression. “A bigger… fortress?” she repeated, her tone unsure.

Jungkook walked over to her, slipping his arms around her waist. “Yeah, bub. Bigger. Better. Somewhere even more private, where it’s just you and me. No distractions, no interruptions.”

He said it so casually, as though he were talking about a simple weekend getaway, but the intensity in his eyes made Y/N’s stomach flip. His grip on her waist was firm, almost possessive, yet his smile was warm and loving.

She forced a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “This place is already massive, Gguk. What more could we possibly need?”

Jungkook leaned down, brushing his nose against hers. “It’s not about space, bub. It’s about security. I want to make sure you’re safe, that no one can get to us.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine. Sometimes, Y/N struggled to understand the extremes of his emotions. One moment, he was furious and jealous, his temper flaring at the smallest of things. The next, he was soft and tender, showering her with love and affection.

“You’re confusing sometimes, you know that?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s smile faltered for a brief second before he cupped her face gently. “How so?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure if she should voice her thoughts. “You… You’re so unpredictable, Gguk. One moment, you’re mad and jealous, and the next, you’re like this—sweet and loving. It’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed slightly as he listened. He sighed, pulling her closer so their foreheads touched. “I know I’m not easy, bub. I know I can be… intense. But it’s because I love you so damn much. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but the raw emotion in it was unmistakable. Y/N felt her heart clench. She knew he loved her—he made that abundantly clear every single day—but sometimes, his love felt overwhelming, like it was smothering her instead of lifting her up.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook,” she said softly, placing her hands on his chest. “But you have to trust me. You have to let me breathe.”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might argue. But instead, he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll try, bub. For you, I’ll try.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest ache. She wanted to believe him, to believe that things would get better. But deep down, she couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt that had taken root in her heart.

“Come on,” Jungkook said suddenly, his tone lighter as he pulled back slightly. “Let’s order some food. You’ve had a long day.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the change in topic. As Jungkook busied himself with their dinner plans, she sat on the couch, her thoughts swirling.

A week later, the day had finally arrived. Jungkook stood in front of the mirror in his penthouse bedroom, running a hand over his freshly buzzed head. The soft, short bristles felt foreign to him after years of long hair flowing freely down his neck. He turned his head slightly, studying his reflection. Despite the haircut symbolizing discipline and transformation, there was something in his eyes that remained wild—untamed.

Y/N stood by the door, leaning against the frame as she silently watched him. He looked so different, so… formal. The lack of his usual hair, coupled with the sleek military uniform he’d already started wearing for familiarization, gave him an aura of authority and distance that she wasn’t accustomed to.

“You look…” she began, searching for the right words, “different.”

Jungkook turned to her with a small, lopsided grin. “Good different or bad different?”

She walked closer, her eyes softening as she reached out to touch his head. “Good different,” she said with a small smile, her fingers brushing over the buzzed cut. “Just… new.”

He chuckled, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her into his arms. “It’s still me, bub. Don’t worry. I might look like a soldier now, but I’m still your Gguk.”

Her heart clenched at his words. There was an ache deep inside her chest, one that had been growing ever since the reality of his enlistment began to set in. He’d be gone for two years, and though he promised to visit and stay in touch, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that things would never be the same.

“When do you leave?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible against his chest.

“In an hour,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her. “I’ll drop you off at Jennie’s before I go.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “I can come with you to the base.”

Jungkook shook his head, a soft but firm smile on his lips. “No, bub. I don’t want you to see me leave. I want your last memory of me to be here, like this, okay?”

Her throat tightened, and she nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

The drive to Jennie’s house was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Y/N stared out the window, watching the city blur past, while Jungkook occasionally glanced at her, his hand resting on her thigh. When they arrived, Jennie was already waiting outside, her usual bubbly energy subdued as she saw the somber expressions on their faces.

“I’ll take care of her,” Jennie assured Jungkook as he helped Y/N out of the car.

He nodded, pulling Y/N into one last hug. “Take care of yourself, bub,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ll write to you every chance I get.”

Y/N clung to him, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Be safe, Gguk. Don’t overdo it, okay?”

He pulled back just enough to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

And with that, he got back into the car, giving her one last wave before driving off. Y/N stood there, watching until his car disappeared down the street, her chest feeling hollow.

Back at the base, Jungkook stepped out of the car, greeted by the buzz of activity as other recruits arrived. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. This was a new chapter, a chance to prove himself in a different way.

But as he walked through the gates, his mind was already drifting back to Y/N—her scent, her touch, the sound of her laugh.

He clenched his jaw. No matter how far away he was, she would always be his.

Y/N was lounging on the couch, wearing an oversized hoodie, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, when her phone buzzed on the table. She lazily reached for it, expecting a message from Jennie or her manager. Instead, it was a call.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice soft and casual.

“Good morning, Y/N-shi!” her manager’s cheerful voice greeted her. “I’ve got some exciting news for you. Calvin Klein has reached out—they want you to sign as their global ambassador.”

Her eyes widened, and she nearly spilled her coffee. “Wait, what? Calvin Klein?”

“Yes! They’ve been following your career, and they believe you perfectly fit their new campaign. Isn’t that incredible?”

A wave of pride and excitement rushed over her. “Of course, I’ll do it! Tell them I’m in!”

Her manager laughed. “I knew you’d say yes. They’ll set up the contract and photoshoot schedule soon. Also, expect more calls—ever since your tour ended, brands have been lining up for you. Vacation or not, you’re the hottest name right now.”

True to her manager’s words, Y/N’s phone didn’t stop buzzing. Over the next few weeks, she found herself swamped with offers. Luxury brands wanted her face on their campaigns, magazines requested interviews, and talk shows begged for her appearance. Parties and events flooded her calendar, and Jennie was by her side through most of them.

One evening, as Y/N and Jennie sat in a chic lounge after an event, sipping on champagne, Y/N’s phone buzzed again. She glanced at the screen. It was her manager.

“What’s up?” she asked after answering the call.

“You’re going to love this,” her manager said, excitement clear in their voice. “You’ve been asked to co-produce a song with a male artist. It’s a big name, Y/N. Huge.”

Her eyes lit up. “Who is it?”

“Lee Minjae. He’s just released two chart-topping albums and is looking to collaborate with someone as dynamic as you.”

Y/N felt a thrill run through her. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing! Let’s do it!”

The project with Minjae turned out to be one of the most exciting things Y/N had worked on. They spent long hours in the studio, brainstorming, writing, and producing. As they collaborated, rumors started swirling online. Fans began speculating about their chemistry, and shippers quickly emerged, piecing together photos from studio sessions and public events.

Since her engagement with Jungkook was kept discreet, many believed her rumored relationship with Jungkook had been false, adding fuel to the gossip about her and Minjae. Articles speculated about a budding romance, and hashtags trended overnight.

Late one evening, Y/N was lounging at home when her phone rang. She didn’t even need to check the caller ID to know who it was.

“Bub,” Jungkook’s voice was cold, tinged with frustration, “what the hell is going on?”

Y/N sighed, already knowing where this was going. “What are you talking about, Kook?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Minjae. The photos. The rumors.”

“It’s just work, Jungkook! We’re co-producing a song. That’s it.”

“Doesn’t look like ‘just work’ to me,” he snapped. “Have you seen what people are saying? They think you’re with him.”

“Why do you care so much about what they’re saying? You know the truth,” she retorted, her voice rising in frustration.

“I care because it’s my fiancée they’re talking about!” he shouted. “Do you know how it feels to see those headlines while I’m stuck here, miles away, unable to do anything?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She hated fighting with him, but his possessiveness was starting to suffocate her. “Jungkook, you need to trust me. This is my career. I can’t control what people say, but I can’t stop living my life because of rumors.”

His silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

“Fine,” he finally said, his voice icy. “But don’t forget who you belong to.”

A week after their heated argument, another photo of Y/N and Jungkook from years ago was leaked online. It was an intimate picture of the two of them at a private gathering, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist as they laughed together.

The internet exploded with renewed speculation about their relationship. Fans began connecting dots, some claiming the photo proved they had been secretly dating for years.

Jungkook called her again, but this time, his tone was softer. “Bub, it’s everywhere now. Everyone knows.”

Y/N sighed, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. “What do we do, Gguk?”

“We let them talk,” he said firmly. “Because at the end of the day, you’re mine, and I’m yours. Let them say whatever they want.”

Months passed in a blur for Y/N, her schedule packed with photoshoots, interviews, songwriting, and collaborations. The added responsibility of planning her wedding made her life even busier. Yet, she welcomed the distraction. It kept her grounded and gave her a sense of normalcy amid the chaos.

Jungkook, on the other hand, kept his distance. He wanted to stay focused on his duties in the military, ensuring he was in his best shape—mentally and physically—for his fiancée. He’d been working harder than ever, driven by his love for her and his desire to be a better man. Every time a new photo of Y/N surfaced on social media, he’d save it immediately. Even in the midst of military drills, he’d steal glances at his phone just to see her face.

Back at their shared penthouse, Jungkook’s parents often dropped by to check on Y/N. They treated her like family already, making sure she wasn’t overwhelmed by everything on her plate.

One afternoon, as Y/N was having tea with Jungkook’s mother in the living room, her soon-to-be father-in-law entered the room with a grin.

“Y/N-ah,” he started, sitting down across from her, “have you heard about Jungkook’s latest project?”

She tilted her head, curious. “Project?”

His mother chuckled, shaking her head. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Her father-in-law leaned forward, his smile widening. “He’s been investing his savings in a new house for the two of you. He says it’ll be your dream home.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “A new house?”

His mother nodded. “He wanted it to be a surprise. He’s been so excited about it.”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest. She should’ve been touched, but the weight of everything—their strained relationship, the upcoming wedding, the unresolved pain—made her feel conflicted.

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself in Paris for Fashion Week, joined by Jennie. Their shared suite overlooked the sparkling Eiffel Tower, the city buzzing with energy and glamour. After a long day of events and runway shows, they retired to their room with a bottle of wine in hand.

Y/N poured herself another glass, the alcohol loosening her tongue. Jennie watched her with concern as she began to ramble.

“Jen,” Y/N slurred slightly, her cheeks flushed, “you know, sometimes I feel like I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You’re doing amazing, Y/N. Look at you—everyone’s obsessed with you.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes glistening. “It’s not about the career. It’s about… everything else. The wedding, Jungkook, the baby we didn’t have…” Her voice cracked, and Jennie’s heart sank.

“Wait, what baby?” Jennie asked, sitting up straighter.

Y/N sighed, tears spilling over. “It happened months ago. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until I wasn’t anymore. And Jungkook… we fought about it. He blamed me, Jen. He said I didn’t take care of myself.”

Jennie’s eyes burned with fury. “He what?”

Y/N wiped her face with her hands. “I know he didn’t mean it, but it hurt. It still hurts. And now we’re planning this wedding, and I’m just… I’m scared, Jennie. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Jennie pulled her into a tight hug, whispering soothing words as Y/N cried into her shoulder.

The next morning, Jennie wasted no time. She stepped out onto the hotel balcony with her phone, dialing Jungkook’s number.

“Noona?” he answered groggily, his voice laced with sleep.

“You idiot,” she snapped, not bothering with pleasantries. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?” Jungkook was instantly alert, sitting up in his bed. “What’s going on?”

“Do you have any idea what Y/N’s been going through? She told me everything—about the baby, the fight, how you made her feel like it was her fault!”

Jungkook’s heart sank. He hadn’t realized how deeply his words had hurt her. “Jennie, I—”

“No, Jungkook. You don’t get to ‘Jennie’ me. She’s your fiancée, and she’s terrified of this wedding because of you. She’s putting on a brave face, but deep down, she’s breaking, and you’re too blind to see it.”

Jennie’s words hit him like a truck, and guilt washed over him. He had been so focused on himself—on the military, on the house, on his plans—that he hadn’t stopped to consider how Y/N was feeling.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

“She’s sleeping. She was a mess last night, Jungkook. Fix this. I mean it.”

Jennie’s scolding only fueled Jungkook’s fury—not at her, but at himself. He hung up the call and sat on the edge of his bed, his hands in his hair.

He thought about the baby they had lost, the pain he had buried instead of confronting. He thought about Y/N, working herself to the bone while pretending to be okay. And he thought about their wedding, the dream he was so focused on that he had forgotten to ask if it was what she wanted, too.

Jungkook’s anger boiled under the surface after Jennie’s call ended. He wasn’t mad at her; he was furious at himself for failing Y/N, for being blind to her struggles, for saying things he could never take back. But his emotions, raw and volatile, had nowhere to go. His hands trembled as he sat on the edge of his bed in the barracks, the weight of guilt pressing down on his chest.

Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and dialed Y/N. The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “Fine,” he muttered under his breath.

Jungkook stormed out of the barracks, ignoring the curious glances of his fellow soldiers. His heart pounded as he made his way to the commanding officer’s office, the fire inside him driving every step.

Meanwhile in Paris…

Y/N woke up groggy, her head pounding from the wine the night before. She groaned, shielding her eyes from the sunlight streaming through the window. Jennie sat by the vanity, scrolling through her phone.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jennie said softly, her tone cautious.

Y/N sat up slowly, rubbing her temples. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon. You’ve got some events later today, but I told them you might be late.”

Y/N sighed, her mind still clouded with the memories of her breakdown the night before. “Thanks, Jen.”

Before Jennie could respond, Y/N’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. She reached for it, her stomach twisting when she saw Jungkook’s name.

“Are you going to answer that?” Jennie asked, her tone sharp.

Y/N hesitated before shaking her head. “I… I can’t. Not right now.”

Jennie nodded, but there was an edge to her expression. “He needs to hear from you eventually, Y/N. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

Back at the military base…

Jungkook’s commanding officer stared at him in disbelief. “You want a leave of absence? Effective immediately?”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook said firmly, standing at attention.

“Jeon, you’ve been doing well here, but you know the rules. We can’t just grant leave without a valid reason.”

Jungkook took a deep breath. “It’s personal, sir. I need to fix something important. If I don’t, I might lose it forever.”

The officer studied him for a moment before sighing. “Fine. You’ve got three days, Jeon. Don’t waste them.”

Jungkook saluted, his jaw set. “Thank you, sir.”

Later that evening…

Y/N and Jennie were at a rooftop party in Paris, the glittering city stretching out beneath them. Y/N tried to enjoy herself, but her mind kept wandering. She hadn’t responded to Jungkook’s calls or texts all day, and the guilt was eating at her.

She was sipping a glass of champagne when she felt a strange sensation, like someone was watching her. She turned, her breath catching in her throat.

There he was.

Jungkook stood at the edge of the crowd, his military buzz cut making him look sharper, more intense. His dark eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

“Is that…?” Jennie whispered beside her, following her gaze.

Y/N set her glass down, her heart racing as Jungkook walked toward her with purposeful strides. The crowd parted for him, sensing his presence like a storm rolling in.

When he reached her, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he grabbed her wrist gently but firmly and led her away from the crowd, ignoring Jennie’s protests.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling.

He stopped in a quiet corner, turning to face her. His jaw was tight, his eyes filled with a mix of anger, hurt, and determination.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, his voice low but intense. “I needed to see you, to fix this.”

“Fix what?” Y/N said, her own anger bubbling to the surface. “You can’t just show up like this and expect everything to be okay.”

“I know,” Jungkook admitted, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I know I’ve screwed up, Y/N. But I can’t stand the thought of you going through this alone. I can’t lose you.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. “You hurt me, Jungkook. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like I was to blame for everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was angry, scared… I didn’t know how to handle it. But I’m here now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

She looked at him, torn between love and frustration. “You can’t just fix everything with words, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “But I’ll prove it to you. Every single day, I’ll prove it.”

Y/N’s walls began to crack, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through her defenses. “You have a lot to prove,” she said quietly.

“I will,” he promised, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

As she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, she wondered if they could truly move past the pain. But for now, she let herself believe in his promise, holding onto the hope that they could find their way back to each other.

Jungkook stayed in Paris for a few weeks with Y/N, giving them both time to reconnect and breathe. The chaotic nature of their lives had always kept them apart, but in the quiet, romantic setting of Paris, it was as though time had slowed down. The city, with its art, its beauty, and its timeless charm, seemed to wrap them in a cocoon where the outside world couldn’t reach them.

Jennie had left them alone, sensing that they needed space to work through their emotions, away from the constant buzz of their high-profile lives. It was during this time that Y/N began to see a side of Jungkook that she hadn’t noticed before—a side that wasn’t driven by anger or jealousy, but one that was vulnerable, open, and truly sorry.

They walked hand in hand along the Seine, the city’s lights reflecting in the water, casting a soft glow over them. The night felt magical, the air crisp and cool, a perfect setting for the conversations that needed to happen. They found a quiet park bench and sat down, just the two of them, watching the world go by.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” Jungkook asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled at the memory. “I remember. It was chaotic, full of press, and we barely had time to enjoy it. But even then, it was special.”

He nodded, his gaze distant as if he was lost in the past. “We were so young, so naive. But I promised you then, and I promise you now, that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always fight for us.”

Y/N looked at him, studying his face, trying to understand the depths of his emotions. “You always fight, Jungkook. But sometimes, I don’t know if it’s for me, or for the idea of us that you’ve created in your head.”

He turned his head to meet her eyes, his expression a mix of regret and vulnerability. “I know. And that’s something I need to work on. I’ve always been afraid of losing you, Y/N. You’re everything to me. But sometimes, I take that fear and turn it into something toxic. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Her heart softened at his words, and she reached out, gently placing her hand on his. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. But you did, Jungkook. And I don’t know how to just move past that.”

Jungkook sighed, the weight of the words hanging between them. “I know. I understand. It’s just... I’ve always been afraid of losing people. I think that’s why I act the way I do. I saw my parents fight growing up, saw the instability in relationships, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen to us. But I let my fear control me.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around his. “I get that, I do. But love... love isn’t about control. It’s about trust. You have to trust me, Jungkook. I’m not going anywhere. But when you act the way you do, it makes me feel trapped, like I’m not allowed to breathe or live my own life.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to control you. I just... I get jealous. I get scared when other people are around you, when I see you so independent and successful. It makes me feel like I’m not enough, like I’m going to lose you to someone else.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart aching for him. She could see the honesty in his eyes, the deep-rooted insecurities that he had never fully expressed before. “Jungkook, I’m not going anywhere. I love you. But you have to trust me. You have to trust that I choose you, that no matter how successful I get, you’re the one I want to be with. It’s not about being perfect, it’s about us choosing each other every day.”

He looked at her, his eyes softening, and nodded slowly. “I want that. I want to be the man you deserve, not the man who keeps pushing you away because of his own fears.”

Y/N leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “We’re not perfect, Jungkook. But we’re perfect for each other.”

As they sat together, talking for hours into the night, Y/N realized just how much Jungkook had changed. He wasn’t the same person he had been a few months ago, the one consumed by jealousy and control. He was growing, learning, and trying to be better—for her, for himself, and for the future they both dreamed of.

The conversation shifted to other things—lighter topics, like the future they wanted to build together. They talked about Bam, their dog, and how they both envisioned a life with him and maybe, someday, children of their own. They dreamed of a house, not just any house, but a home where they could raise a family, a place that would always feel like a sanctuary for them both.

“I want to build something real with you, Y/N,” Jungkook said, his voice sincere. “A family. A home. I want to be the man you can depend on, no matter what.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her heart. “And I want that with you, Jungkook. I want us to be happy, to build something solid and strong.”

They stayed like that for hours, wrapped up in each other’s company, talking about their future. For the first time in a long while, Y/N felt like the love between them wasn’t just about passion or jealousy—it was about trust, vulnerability, and a shared vision for the future.

As they walked back to their hotel hand in hand, Paris lights twinkling around them, Y/N knew that they still had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time, she felt hopeful about what that future could look like. She didn’t have all the answers, but with Jungkook by her side, she was willing to find them together.

Jungkook's departure to continue his military service felt like a bittersweet farewell, but it was also a relief for Y/N. The weight of their previous emotional turmoil had been lifted after their heartfelt conversation in Paris. As he left, his words echoed in her mind: "I’ll be back for you. We’ll make this work." She clung to those words, knowing that he was truly trying to be better, not just for himself, but for their future.

Though the fans in Paris had leaked countless photos of them, capturing their intimate moments, Y/N didn’t let it affect her anymore. The scandal and public judgment had once plagued her, but now she was more focused on what was to come. The love she had with Jungkook wasn’t something to be hidden or ashamed of. It was real, and that was all that mattered. She could breathe again, free from the constraints of other people’s opinions.

As the months passed, the anticipation for the new house grew. The idea of finally having a space that was truly their own, a place where they could build a life together, filled her with excitement. She, along with Bam and Jungkook’s parents, was there to see it for the first time. Jennie, of course, was also by her side, always her rock through everything.

When they arrived at the house, it was even more breathtaking than Y/N had imagined. The spacious rooms, the modern yet cozy atmosphere, and the incredible view—it was perfect. But there was one room that stopped her in her tracks: the baby room.

It was beautiful, with soft pastel colors, a crib, and shelves filled with toys and baby clothes. The room was a clear sign of Jungkook’s hope for their future together. His parents looked thrilled, talking excitedly about the grandchildren they’d one day have. But Y/N didn’t know how to feel. The room, filled with all the promise of a family, felt like a weight on her chest. She had always dreamed of having a family, of having children with Jungkook, but the idea of becoming a mother in the midst of everything they had been through—the tension, the jealousy, the misunderstandings—felt overwhelming.

Her emotions were all over the place. She was happy, yes, but she also felt the sting of uncertainty. Was she ready? Was Jungkook ready? Would they really be able to give their child the kind of love and stability they both needed?

But the warmth in Jungkook’s mother’s eyes as she lovingly touched the crib eased some of her worries. Her future mother-in-law seemed so hopeful, so sure of the future. That brought Y/N a sense of comfort. She wasn’t alone in this journey. They were in this together, and whatever uncertainties she had, they would work through them as a family.

----------------------------

As weeks passed and Jungkook neared the end of his service, everything seemed to fall into place. The wedding plans were finalized. The venue, the guest list, the flowers—it was all coming together perfectly. Y/N could hardly believe that after everything, they were finally here, about to take the next step in their relationship.

There was still a lingering feeling of doubt in her heart, but that was only natural. The idea of marriage and children, of truly committing to a lifetime with someone, was a big deal. But deep down, she knew that she had made the right choice. Despite everything that had happened between them—despite the struggles, the pain, and the obstacles—they were still standing side by side, stronger than before. And that was what mattered.

Jungkook had grown, and Y/N had grown with him. They had learned, perhaps the hard way, how to communicate, to love, and to trust each other. Their love wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And that was all they needed.

The day Jungkook was set to return was fast approaching, and with it came a flood of emotions. Y/N was excited, nervous, and hopeful all at once. She knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one that would involve not only their love, but their future, their family, and the life they would build together.

And as she stood in front of the baby room once more, a small smile crept onto her face. She didn’t know exactly what the future held, but she knew that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever came their way. And that thought, as simple as it was, gave her the peace she needed to move forward.

-----------------------------

The day of the wedding arrived, and it was everything Y/N and Jungkook had hoped for—intimate, quiet, and filled with nothing but love. No public statements, no press, and no fans. It was a sacred moment, one meant only for the two of them and their closest loved ones. The air was heavy with emotion as they exchanged vows under a canopy of white flowers, surrounded by those who truly mattered.

Y/N’s heart raced as she gazed into Jungkook's eyes, his expression filled with sincerity and affection. Their promises to each other were heartfelt, words exchanged that signified the bond they had nurtured over the years—despite all the obstacles they had faced. It was a testament to their growth as individuals and as a couple.

The moment felt surreal, and for a brief moment, everything seemed perfect. As they sealed their vows with a kiss, the cheers of their family and friends echoed around them, but Y/N felt like time had slowed. She held onto the sensation of peace, the joy of finally finding her way to this point.

But as they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, something about the atmosphere shifted. There was a slight unease, something unspoken hanging in the air. It wasn’t anything anyone else noticed, but Y/N felt it deep in her chest.

Later that evening, as the reception unfolded, Y/N and Jungkook shared private moments, their connection undeniable, their love shining brightly. But just as they were about to cut the cake, Jungkook’s phone buzzed on the table. He hesitated for a moment before glancing at the screen. His expression immediately changed.

As the night went on, the wedding celebrations were in full swing. Y/N and Jungkook danced, laughed, and shared tender moments together, basking in the love of their closest friends and family. Everything seemed perfect—too perfect, in fact. The kind of perfection that made Y/N’s heart race, yet she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

The night progressed, and Jungkook’s smile never wavered, but there was a certain tension in the air, a weight in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t ignore. The last song played, and as they stepped away from the dance floor, Jungkook excused himself for a moment.

Y/N, still lost in the glow of the evening, smiled to herself. She had always wanted this kind of love, this kind of commitment. But as she turned to find him, she saw him stepping into a quiet corner, his phone pressed to his ear, his back turned to her.

She watched him for a moment, intrigued. His tone was low and calm, but there was something in his voice that sent a chill down her spine. She couldn’t hear the words, but the energy in the room seemed to shift as she waited, her heart starting to race for reasons she couldn’t explain.

After a few moments, Jungkook hung up and turned around, his usual charming smile back in place, but there was something different in the way he looked at her—something dark, almost possessive.

Y/N’s curiosity gnawed at her. She approached him, but before she could say anything, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Are you okay, bub?” he whispered.

She nodded, unsure. "You seemed... different just now."

Jungkook gave a small, reassuring chuckle. “Nothing to worry about, love. Just some business stuff. Everything’s perfect.”

But as she gazed up at him, she knew there was something more beneath his calm demeanor.

Hours later, as the guests began to leave and the penthouse grew quiet, Jungkook sat in a dimly lit corner, his fingers tapping against his phone screen. Y/N was preparing to call it a night, feeling the weight of the day catching up to her, when she overheard Jungkook talking again.

This time, his voice was much sharper, filled with a cold, calculated edge.

"Yes, everything is perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but cutting through the silence. "Leak everything. Let them see. Let her know she won’t be able to leave me. Except for the thing I told you... And you know what to do with them. They’ve been hurting her long enough. Let me be the karma."

Y/N’s heart stopped as she heard his words, her stomach sinking into her chest. It was as if the world around her came to a crashing halt.

Jungkook wasn’t the man she thought he was—not the man she had fallen in love with. She could hear the coldness in his voice, the hint of manipulation and control.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to process what she had just heard. The realization that something much darker was at play sent a shiver down her spine.

And as Jungkook ended the call, he turned to her with a smile, but it wasn’t the smile she knew. It was something far more unsettling.

"Everything’s just fine, love. Let’s enjoy our night," he said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth.

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, a flood of questions and fears crashing through her mind. What was he planning? And what had he just promised to do?

The truth was closer than she thought, and she was only beginning to see the dangerous game he was playing.

[dcnatural]

Above Wayne Manor

Word Count: 3632

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Jason Todd x Tim Drake x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: During a plane ride after a mission, Luke Fox begins to flirt with you, but your brothers get jealous and decide to mark you as theirs.

A/N: Work written for the @macrocest winter bingo, filling the prompt for "marking their territory".

A/N: This work is a sequel to Below Wayne Manor. I rarely make part 2, but BWM was so well received that I decided to make a follow up, Thank you to all the read, liked and/or commented <3

It had been a couple months since you had lost your virginity to your brothers, in what became the first of many secret meetings in the cave. Bruce remained oblivious to the whole thing and, while you had a feeling Alfred had somehow found out, the butler had never mentioned anything to anyone.

You'd thought it would be weird to be in a relationship with your three older brothers. In reality, it was anything but. Those nights in the cave were your favourites, your heart beating faster whenever Dick, Jason or Tim sent an encrypted message asking for a meet-up. It wasn't always the four of you, sometimes you hung out with just one or two of the boys, or they hung out with you, but there was no jealousy among the four of you. You didn't quite know what to call that dynamic, but you knew it felt right.

The only thing that bothered you was the secrecy of it all. The hushed tones, the hidden encounters. Never being allowed to even talk about what happened in the cave when you were out of it. You wish you could just… be with them. Let everyone know you belonged together. Surely there were bigger issues in Gotham than four siblings being in love. Or, even if you couldn't be public in your civilian identities, why not let everyone know that Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin and Flamebird were in a relationship? But whenever you brought up the topic of going on dates or even doing it in the manor, your brothers quickly shut down the idea, saying that Bruce would go crazy if he found out.

Sometimes, at night, you laid awake worrying that for them it was just a casual fling. Sex for the sake of sex. But then, how to explain the sweet words they whispered in your ear all the time? Or the frequent emotional conversations you all had after sex? Still, as months passed by, you learned to accept it as merely 'siblings with benefits' and gave up on dreaming of it being anything more. 

* * * 

The low hum of the Batplane's engines filled the cabin, a constant, soothing vibration that contrasted with your still accelerated heartbeat. The sleek interior was dimly lit by faint blue panels, casting long shadows over the faces of your companions. Dick sat at the controls, his hands steady as he navigated the aircraft through the night sky. Jason was leaning back in his seat across the aisle, arms crossed as he watched Tim type the mission report on his laptop. Luke, sitting in front of you, tinkered with the cowl of his Batwing suit. 

You sat by the window, your knees tucked to the side and your head resting against the glass. Outside, the world stretched endlessly beneath you, the clouds below glowing in the moonlight, pierced occasionally by the faint glimmer of city lights. The stars above were shockingly bright, free from the interference of Gotham's ever-present smog and neon haze.

"It's beautiful, right?" Luke said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet. You glanced over to find him watching you instead of the view, a crooked smile softening the sharp angles of his face. Ever since he had taken the role of Batwing, you two had been spending a lot of time patrolling together, so when Batman asked you and your brothers to take care of a splinter cell of the League of Assassins in Markovia, you decided to invite Luke to tag along. And it was a good thing you had, as he had proved essential in the fight.

You nodded, "The view? Beautiful indeed."

"Yeah, I was totally talking about the view," he said with a laugh, his tone a little too quick. A faint blush crept up his cheeks, barely visible on his deep brown skin. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, then after a moment of hesitation, got up and slid into the empty one beside you. "So," Luke began, his voice trembling slightly, "I've been meaning to ask, do you have a boyfriend?"

You noticed Jason tensing on the other side of the aisle, his hands gripping the armrests of his seats a little too tightly. Even Tim glanced up from his screen to stare, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he returned to his task.

You laughed, "No, I don't." You shrugged, keeping your voice casual. "Why do you ask?"

Luke chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, not that it's any of my business or anything. I just figured, you know... someone as amazing as you probably wouldn't be single." He winced as if realizing how forward that sounded, his gaze darting away before returning with a sheepish grin.

You felt a warmth spread through you at the compliment. Luke was undeniably handsome, with a sharp jawline framed by neatly groomed stubble, warm brown eyes, and a soft, boyish smile that was making your stomach flutter. However, you were seeing someone, or rather, multiple someones. But you couldn't tell him that. 

"No, no one special," you replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

Luke's shoulders relaxed a bit, his eyes glimmering with hope. "Good to know. Means I still have a shot, right?" His grin widened, but his fidgeting fingers betrayed his confidence.

From across the cabin, you felt Jason's eyes on you, burning with unspoken tension, while Tim's typing slowed once again. Dick glanced back briefly, his brow furrowed but his focus still on piloting.

"Maybe," you said with a playful smirk, deciding to let the moment hang in the air. "You can start by asking me out."

"That's enough!" Jason growled. His chair creaked as he pushed himself up, the sudden movement drawing everyone's attention. His boots thudded heavily against the cabin floor as he strode over to you and Luke, his expression darkened with a barely contained fury. He loomed over Luke, his shoulders tense, and his fist clenched tightly. "You better stay the fuck away from my-"

"Sister", Tim cut in, jumping to Jason's side to hold back his arm, before Jason could throw a punch he would regret later. "How would you feel if I was shamelessly flirting with Tiffany?"

Luke stood up, he was shorter than Jason, but he held his ground, his chin tilted up in defiance. "I'm sorry, I thought we were all friends", he raised an eyebrow, looking from Jason to you and back to Jason. "I'm just trying to get to know your sister better. Is that a crime?"

Jason scoffed, "You're trying to get into her pants, more like it." Tim's grip on his arm tightened, but Jason shrugged him off, his eyes never leaving Luke's. You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat.

Dick, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. "Jason, enough." His voice was calm, but authoritative, making everyone pause. "Luke, come here, I need you to take control of the plane."

Luke hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking between Jason's tense stance and Dick's calm demeanour before he finally nodded and made his way to the cockpit. Dick handed over the controls, giving Luke a brief rundown of the basics. All the while, Jason and Tim continued to shoot you angry looks, while you kept your gaze fixed on the window, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You couldn't hide that your brothers' jealous reaction had been a pleasant surprise.

Once Luke had settled into the seat, Dick placed a large headset over his head, adjusting it securely before strolling into the cabin. 

"There, now we can have a private conversation." Dick said, as he sat down next to you, his thigh brushing against yours. "You too", he added, turning to Jason and Tim, "take your seats." The two obeyed, taking the seats in front of yours and Dick's so that the four of you were facing each other. 

"What do we even have to talk about?" Jason grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, I don't know, how about the fact you almost punched Luke because he showed interest in me?" you retorted.  "What's that about?"

Jason hissed in a low tone. "I don't care what you do. But have the decency to not rub it in our face." Jason's jaw clenched, his eyes darting away from yours. 

"Besides, he's not good enough for you," Tim added. 

"While I disapprove of his methods", Dick said with a pointed glare towards Jason, "Jason was right to interfere. You shouldn't be dating anyone right now, birdie," he ended in a soft tone, placing his hand over yours and giving it a light squeeze."

You raised an eyebrow, a defying smirk on your face. "And why not?"

"Because you fucking belong to us, and we don't want anyone else sniffing around you", Jason blurted out.

Tim and Dick nodded in agreement, their gazes intense as they awaited your reaction to Jason's outburst. 

"I belong to you?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. You were very pleased to hear that he considered you to be his, but you weren't going to let him know that just yet. "I wasn't aware I was a possession."

Jason winked at you. "Oh, doll, don't play coy. You know exactly what I mean."

"Or perhaps she just needs to be reminded of who owns her", Tim added with a conspiratorial smile.

Dick chuckled and looked from Jason to Tim. "Well, maybe we should remind our little bird that she does actually have a boyfriend. Three, in fact."

Before you could reply, Dick pulled you into his lap, his mouth going straight to that spot in your neck that made you gasp in pleasure. Not missing a beat, Tim left his seat and kneeled in front of yours, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your head towards him and capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth. You moaned seeking more contact.

Jason, taking advantage of the way your body arched towards Tim, reached over and unzipped your suit, his knuckles brushing against your skin. You shivered, your nipples hardening into peaks, straining against your bra, which Jason noticed as soon as had removed your bodice.

"Oh, it never fails to amaze me how easy it is to turn you on", he said in a mocking tone, thumb brushing over your sensitive nub and making you whine.

Dick's mouth moved to your collarbone, his teeth grazing your skin. "She's always ready for us, aren't you, sweetheart?" he asked and could only nod. You could feel his hardness pressing against your backside, and you rubbed against it, eliciting a moan from him. 

"Use your words, pretty girl," Tim urged as his lips left yours, his hands moving to your waist, unzipping your suit further and pushing it down to your hips and leaving you almost completely exposed.

Three pairs of eyes watched you with intensity, waiting for your response. Your head was fuzzy from their kisses and touches, and you could feel your clit throbbing with need, your pussy also desperate to be filled up. "Fuck yes," you shouted. "I'm always ready for you."

Jason smiled wickedly. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm yours", you told them with honesty, squeezing Dick's hand while you looked at Tim and Jason. "I've always been yours." Jason opened a large smile and leaned down to kiss you, his mouth rough and unrelenting against yours.

"And it's time we let the world know that", Dick growled into your ear, causing you to shiver.

"Is everything alright back there?" Luke yelled from the cockpit.

Tim pressed a button in his earpiece to reply. "Just keep flying the plane to the Batcave and mind your own business", he said, before tossing the communication device aside.

Jason bit down your lip, teeth sinking into the tender skin and making you taste blood while Dick's mouth continued to attack your neck. Tim removed your boots and the rest of the suit with agility, his hands going for your bra and panties next. 

Dick then stood up, lifting you with him, and carried you to the back of the plane where a large, plush couch was situated. He laid you down gently and Tim and Jason followed, their eyes never leaving your naked body.

Tim kneeled beside you, running a hand up your thigh. "Spread your legs for us, sweetie", he commanded, his voice low and rough. You complied, cheeks burning bright as you revealed your glistening pussy to them.

"Here's how this is going to go", Dick announced, taking control once again. You and your brothers were used to having him barking orders and dictating your encounters. "Baby, you have really hurt our feelings tonight," he said to you, giving a wink to show that he wasn't really being serious. "So we are going to hurt you in return."

Dick's words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt yourself getting wetter. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. You had seen them playing rough with each other, but so far, they hadn't ever hurt you. The thought of them doing so made your heart beat faster. 

Jason chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You heard the boss, doll. We're going to make you pay for teasing us like that."

Tim leaned in, his breath hot on your ear. "If it ever becomes too much, remember you can always safeword. We don't want to really  hurt you."

You nodded, rolling your eyes as you muttered the term you had heard then use before. "Yes, yes, I know. Batword."

The three men nodded and exchanged a knowing look. Tim sat down on the couch and suddenly Dick was flipping you onto your stomach and bending you over Tim's knees, making sure to hold your legs in place. You still hadn't really processed the change in position when you felt Jason's gloved hand coming down hard on your ass, causing you to let out a small shriek. 

There was barely time for the stinging sensation to pass before Jason gave you a quick succession of five slaps. This time, instead of a cry of pain, you let out a loud moan of pleasure, your hips grinding automatically against Tim's legs, seeking fiction.

"Oh, it seems our little slut likes that?" Dick said, running a finger through your folds to collect your wetness. He admired it for a moment, and then brought his finger to his mouth, sucking it clean. Tim's hard cock poked at your belly, pre-cum already staining the leggings to his suit.

Jason merely chuckled at your reddening but cheeks, and gave you another series of smacks. You didn't bother to suppress yourself this time, letting out a series of whimpers and groans. Jason kept slapping you while Dick and Tim watched, cooing words of encouragement at you: "Good girl", "Taking your punishment so well", "You look so good with palm marks on your ass".

You mentally counted each slap, and Jason kept them coming until you reached fifty, evenly divided between each cheek. When he finally stopped, your skin was burning and you knew that in the morning there would definitely be marks. Which was what they wanted, afterall. Your brothers were marking their territory, laying their claim over you.

"So pretty the sounds you make…" Jason said, running his tongue over his lips. his bulge was visible under his pants and your pussy clenched at the thought of his cock. He crouched in front of you, face close to yours. "Are you holding on alright?" He asked, and you could feel the worry in his tone.

"I'm good," you said a little breathless. "Just… thinking about getting fucked", you confessed.

Dick shook his head."No, no, no. You are not getting any cock tonight, princess. This is supposed to be a punishment, remember?"

You whined. "But--"

Jason cut you off, grabbing you by the throat and cutting your breath. "You heard him, you are not getting fucked tonight. Complain again and we will keep denying you for a whole week", he finished and let you go.

"Or maybe we will comply and fuck your ass", Tim added nonchalantly. Your eyes widened. Although you had talked about it before, they had never actually entered your rear entrance, and the idea of them doing so was quite… intimidating. Especially considering that all of them were well sized.

"Sorry", you quickly apologized. "I promise to not ask again tonight."

"Good", Dick replied, running a head through your head. "Your turn, Tim."

Tim got up from the couch and Dick took his place under you. Jason slid on your side, and with his gloves off, he touched your folds, smiling upon feeling how wet you had gotten just from his spanking you.

Tim maneuvered your body again, so that you were sitting on Dick's lap, your back against his torso, legs opened on the front. As you wondered what exactly Tim was going to do, his mouth closed around your clit and he began sucking hard.

Dick wrapped his arms around your shoulders to prevent you from moving, and Jason's hands casually grabbed your boobs, while Tim gripped your thighs, keeping you from squirming too much, while he kept licking and sucking your pussy. 

You could feel your orgasm building up, your body tensing as you got closer and closer to the edge. Tim's tongue was relentless, flicking and circling your clit at a maddening pace, while Jason's fingers pinched and rolled your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chanted, your head thrown back against Dick shoulder, your hips bucking in an attempt to get more friction. Tim's hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he continued his assault on your pussy. Dick took full advantage of your exposed neck, his teeth sinking into your skin and his lips sucking hard enough to form a deep red bruise, marking you just like Jason had done with his handprints on your ass.

Then, as soon as it had all started, Tim pulled away with a loud pop, leaving you panting and on the brink of an orgasm. You let out a frustrated groan, your body aching for release. Tim calmly got up to his feet, unbuckling his belt while Jason and Dick continued to play with your body, their hands roaming over your skin, their mouths leaving marks all over your neck and chest.

Tim's belt hit the floor with a clatter, followed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down. You looked up to see him standing over you, his cock already out and in his hand, stroking it slowly. He was long and thick, the head glistening with pre-cum. You licked your lips, eager to taste him.

Tim smirked at you, wrapping a hand around his length and giving it a slow stroke. "I thought we had made it clear that you weren't getting any taste of us today."

"But, you-", you protested but Jason clamped your mouth, turning your words into muffled sounds. While you were still confused, Tim began to furiously masturbate. 

"Just stay there and be a good show," Tim commanded, his voice rough with desire. 

Tim continued to stroke his cock, his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and hungry. Dick moved his hand to touch between your legs, while Jason continued to suck your breasts, the combined sensations causing you to moan and arch your body, despite their strong hold. Tim's strokes became faster, his grip tightening around his cock. You could see the muscles in his arm flexing, his breath coming in short gasps.

You watched, your mouth watering, as he jerked himself off, his hand moving up and down his thick shaft. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum", he panted, his abs tensing. He let out a low groan, his hips thrusting forward as he came, his hot cum spurting out in thick ropes. Jason moved out of the way just in time for Tim's cum land on your chest and stomach. You let out a whimper, feeling the warmth of his release on your skin.

Dick chuckled. "Look at you, all covered in his cum." Dick's voice was a low growl in your ear, his hands smearing Tim's release all over your skin. "You look fucking gorgeous, baby."

Jason leaned in, his tongue licking a trail of cum from your collarbone up to your chin. "Delicious too," he murmured, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, sharing Tim's taste with you.

Tim, still standing over you, looked down at you with a satisfied smirk. "Do you still think you don't belong to us?"

You shook your head, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal. "I'm yours," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dick pulled you in a tight embrace, not caring about the mess in your chest, his lips pressing against your forehead. "We know, baby. And we're going to make sure everyone else knows too."

Tim and Jason exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They both nodded, their expressions serious. "It's more than time for Gotham to know that the Wayne girl is taken," Tim said, his voice firm.

"And as a bonus, we get to piss Bruce off," Jason added. 

Dick released you and carefully placed you on the couch. "Which reminds me, we must be near the Manor. I'll go land the plane." 

"Wait. What are you going to tell Luke?" you inquired.

Dick waved his hand dismissively, already strolling towards the cockpit. "I guess I'll just tell him to stay away. Or he'll have to deal with your three boyfriends."

[bunji-enthusiast]

Closer And Closer

Note || as requested by many, here is the sequel! This was a ton of fun to write 🤲

WC || 2,535

<(Previous Part)> <(You are here)>

Sypnosis || With your new friend in hand, you begin earning some unexpected honesty—and new understandings.

Once, there was a dream. Sometimes it would recur, coming back to you in the encroaching depths of your mind no matter how much you wanted to stop dreaming this very same dream. It was always on and off, how it can always come back–like a nightmare–just how can one describe it?

People can forget their own dreams long after they wake up, lest they be lucky to want to write down the dream. So you were one and the same, the trepidation always sneaking upon you, like an approaching danger that will never fail to make your nerves stand on end. 

“Mommy,” You tugged at the hem of the woman’s dress, a baby trapped within a limited consciousness; yearning for love, curiosity and just always wanting to be around your parents. It’s natural and in nature for a young child to always want their parents. “Why are you gonna be gone for so long?”

Oh, that sweet, sweet voice. How adorable could you be? The woman just looked down upon your small form with a smile, so very reminiscent of motherly love. Only a mother could bring a kind of peace like that to their child, the woman thought. She crouched down to your level, patting the crown of your head with a gentle hand, so very gentle as you remember her even gentler heartbeat. A voice came from her mouth, words carried with a saccharine tone. “My little sweet apple pie, it is only a work trip!” She giggled, then wrapped her arms around you and held you close. Causing you to giggle as well, laughter so joyous even the woman holding you now couldn’t help but feel such joy because of you alone. “I’ll be back before you can say Poppies!”

You look up at her, strangely the woman’s face was misty, enshrouded by black shadows. As if reality didn’t want you to see her, your own mother. Still, a smile remained upon your face as you nodded at the woman. “Hehe! Okay, mom.”

Slowly you blinked, the world suddenly began disappearing from sight, the environment twisting upon your peripherals. 

“What?”

You groan audibly, cursing to yourself under your breath. “Of-fucking-course.” 

Slowly, You remember where you are now. A hand comes into your view and holds you steady, a very familiar one. 

“Don’t get up too quickly, you will get weary Angel.” His voice warns, it still seemed so strained and worn worse for wear. Just what kind of things had Catnap done to DogDay? Perhaps you shouldn’t worry about it, something like that is a very personal thing to ask about, no doubt. 

You coughed, pounding on your chest as you slowly rose awake. Your companion had been waiting calmly for you to collect yourself, but that had made him a little worried as he winced when you coughed. Slowly enough, you ease yourself into standing with DogDay’s help, all that jumping and landing seriously hurt your body a great deal. No wonder you were exhausted as hell right now.

Right, no time to worry about that now. It was time to be more worried about what to do next, “DogDay, you think you can handle being carried around by me in that state?” You asked with an airy tone, you didn’t want to be too loud and accidentally attract any nearby toys who are under Catnap’s influence. DogDay slumped for a moment, most likely still very worn out from probably the way he had been hanged. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling everything coursing through him, he was very much here and alive.

He always had been continually reminded of this very thing.

Reminded of Catnap.

“No need to worry about me, Angel.” Your companion spoke, his fur ruffling about in his movements. You probably were gonna have to do something about that later, DogDay sorely needed some cleaning up. “I am tougher than you think.” 

It seemed his words carried a half-hearted weight, carrying no affirmed meaning to them. You looked at DogDay incredulously, clear as night and day that you knew this well; worn out, tired and cramping for a plan to end the Prototype. You’ve never gotten a good look at the Prototype, only a few times you have gotten a good look at the Prototype’s hand–there must be a whole body from beyond the shadow’s.

Awaiting, no doubt terrifying too. But, you dealt with adrenaline rushes and terrifying monsters from the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned Playtime Co. 

“Ah, well, just tell me if anything is bothering you.” You nodded at him, patting down your clothing, the dust falling in your wake. DogDay was quiet for a moment, taking a hand-step back as he looked around at the environment once more. He was considering something, considering how to go about the next phase of the way. 

“No safe places here, nothing good.” For a moment, you swore that you had seen his mouth contorting into a frown–though in every Smiling Critter, they always are smiling–So this was completely new, different somehow. “My apologies Angel, safe places are rare to find.” DogDay sighed, he in a sense was habitually instinctive to keep his loved ones safe; going so far as to make sure they have a good sleep. Even if it meant at the cost of his own health. 

He cared deeply for his friends, but they were gone now. Catnap was someone he could not recognize anymore, that wasn’t his friend.

DogDay’s only focus was making sure you are alive and safe.

Something of which is admittedly difficult to do, knowing all the horrors that had occurred in Playtime Co. but it wasn’t too troubling for someone like you. DogDay was glad for you about that, impressed even that you had managed to survive thus far before you had met him. 

You patted his head, causing him to look back at you. “Nothing to apologize for! Everyone’s just… a little too crazy nowadays.” You mutter, walking over to a dusty pile and finding a tape. There seemed to be thousands of these tapes all around the Factory, some of which you could’ve sworn recording yourself. 

Being a former employee for Playtime Co. is one thing to say, but being an engineer was a different process. You were only involved in the works of designing and constructing, not once had you ever really got hand in hand with actually building things. But you were highly proud of the work you had done and completed alongside your fellow co-workers, looking back on it now… all it had done simply saddened you.

How it seemed to be the way that the toys seemed to be so lifeless, once so full of joy, love and empathy for everyone in this place all together.

You wouldn’t mind turning back the clock and doing good for once more, the right way this time. When everything was said and done, the toys you came across were well justified in their anger for being abandoned–but you weren’t looking to be on the top list of being killed either. Considering how you had gotten lucky apparently by quitting the day before your co-workers had all disappeared.

Getting through this place was no trouble, you remember some good places of this Factory like the back of your hand. Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy of whom is his spouse, was rather different to the likes of the tall-blue furred beast. Rather inconceivable in behaviors, Kissy Missy was a perturbed ally, one you didn’t expect. All the toys you met so far, (save for Poppy, and Kissy Missy) had full intentions to kill you from going any further.

This Factory is a whole goddamn amalgamation of mysteries you weren’t sure you wanted to solve anymore. Let alone having any trust in every being you come across now too, how disturbing must this get? You sure as hell weren’t Elliot Ludwig. 

“I simply wish I could be of more help.” DogDay recounted with a mournful tune, breaking you out of your thoughts and consolation. You frown at him, wanting to offer comfort: the words could not come through. He shuffled around to begin looking for things too, but now something had crossed your mind. 

You still couldn’t piece together almost everything between DogDay and Catnap, some things he had said back at the heretic altar had stuck with you. Until now it was dismissable, out of sight and out of mind you supposed. Though you recounted some thoughts that had warmed you in ways you didn’t expect, at first meet he already was of great character–someone you truly wanted to be around.

The repugnant smell that had always seemed to be invading your senses was gone now, this particular area was an untouched one. “DogDay… do you mind if I ask you something?” You spoke, stepping over the rubbish and noting the sound footsteps that echo in your wake. Don’t walk too much, this area may be empty but it didn’t mean that Catnap wasn’t watching. That cat was terrifying to you. Permeating nightmares had run endlessly through your mind, and his gas before when calling back on previous close counters with the obsessed follower of the prototype were far too close. 

Continually he had gone about looking for anything that may be of assistance to you both, still he had spoken in reply, “Angel, I will answer anything. You deserve as such.” DogDay recounted, noting what he had said to you before you fell to the slumbers of sweet, sweet sleep. 

Cool, cool cool… that was dandy and nice of him. You just weren’t sure how to articulate the very question that lays burning in your mouth, for fear of the fact you might be gazed upon with ranicid and covert questioning, like an ornery old bitch. Pointedly you stepped around the rubble, in turn you came across an old set-up, as if there used to be children here. A blanket laying upon the ground and the ravaged pillows, still in condition that you could say that was okay to be recycled for use. Still quite in a-okay position to sit down on, waiting for DogDay to finish scrambling around.

“So,” You began, lacing your fingers together and intertwining them purely out of your nerves spiking in your body as of right now. “What’s… the deal between you and Catnap?” Abruptly, at those words, his very being felt as if he tensed up. You couldn’t read him right now, suddenly incomprehensible to understand. 

“I suppose you should know about it, in order to really understand Catnap.” He motioned, steadily crawling over to where you sat. “Catnap was someone you could get along great with, quiet and not much of a talker, but actions speak louder than words Angel.” 

Then, there was a lapse in his words; DogDay was doing his best to keep himself steady and calm. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to fall apart in front of you, that is not very leader-like of someone such as DogDay.

“Oh, his actions spoke so much more for him than one little word.” He nodded, laying his head upon his crossed arms. DogDay had made himself comfortable as he shifted to a proper position. “But, things happened. Very bad things.” You were albeit surprised he was willingly sharing such information with you, as personal as it would appear. 

Still, you had remained muted, this was something that could conceivably help you in dealing with the nightmare cat later on. “Something had happened to him, something I wasn’t aware of. Angel, he.. wasn’t the same Catnap. He wasn’t my friend anymore.” Now, you could understand this well.

You yourself never had a good trade off within all your relationships, no matter what kind of relationship it was… be it; platonic, romantic, friends even! Humans are odd and sometimes indescribable in nature, but it simply has always been this way. But friends change, sometimes partially and even supernaturally.

In DogDay’s case, it was gruesome and religious. Catnap by no means was someone to act fool with, something you could pick out with merely just from first impressions. In passing, this was no offense whatsoever–personally that cat looked scary as hell.

“All my friends just,” Then, DogDay allowed himself to breathe again once more. “I wouldn’t wish it even on my own worst enemy.”

“The Prototype?” You snorted, shifting your weight from one end to the other as you gave him a benign quizzical look. 

“Angel.”

“I'm messing with you!” 

You waved him off, then put your hands in your lap. It was oddly endearing in how you behaved, the normalcy around here is rare, DogDay would admit. “So it seems, Prototype is his god. I don’t understand every detail, but The Prototype saved him.” He beckoned, recounting the mention of the Prototype from not even two minutes ago. 

“So Catnap began viewing this, Prototype as such?” You finished for him, tilting your head. Your companion nodded, lifting his head to recover proper eye contact with you. 

“Poppy, the rest who are on your side want nothing more to end the terror of the Prototype’s reign. Come to save me Angel, I thank you so much for that.” Honesty was a fickle thing for DogDay since recalling recent events, but had it come to you? The fearless dog didn’t mind. 

“Oh it’s nothing to be thanked for,” You grin at him, ever so slightly. But he’ll take that, “You were in so much pain. That’s a position no innocent person, or toy deserves to be in.”

DogDay had to consider this for a moment, so much consideration had been done lately. Yet, it was all done to simply understand the chaos underlying this factory, no doubt it had caused a lot of trauma (to many in this place) alone. “You're right about that, Angel, I suppose I had gotten too comfortable in all my reckless decadence.” Willfully, he was well aware of his actions as a leader. Some of which he had questioned why he had made them.

Your hand on his ragged-torn furred head had snapped DogDay out of his conscious thoughts, “We all deserve peace, that means you too DogDay.” 

You were right.

It seems there are still many things to be learned.

“You are far too kind to me.” He sighed, leaning into your hand. You never moved your hand away from him. 

“Though we should probably get you cleaned up.” That sentence alone suddenly broke the comfortable atmosphere, still much rather comedic however. 

“Right,” DogDay barked, as if he really was laughing. His whole body shook, it was rather a wave of happiness. Something he had not often felt, it had almost shocked him a little. “I believe they would have some bandages and towels nearby, water too.” Your companion then noted it would most likely be at a medical station somewhere.

You raised a brow at this, causing DogDay to nod with an air of laughter about him as he spoke once more whilst you had hoisted him over your shoulders. “I worked with children quite more often than not, you would be surprised at the amount of things that happen during playtime Angel.”

[Taglist: @zacklover24 ]

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 3

Michael Myers + Drugged and/or captured.

This is a spiritual sequel to the bondage/shibari Michael Myers prompt from last year’s Kinktober. This is a shorter one, cuz ya boy is busy with his studies 🤓

Pretty sure this counts as dub-con, so like, watch out for that ig.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

A year had passed since your last run in with Michael Myers, one year since you had panicked and tied him up and left him on the floor of your living room. And one year since he escaped the very moment you looked away. You had been on edge all year because of it, as Michael had never been found or caught, his killing spree even seemed to come to an end for the time being after he had left your home. This didn’t stop the entire population of Haddonfield from worrying as the next Halloween night approached.

Most who could afford it left the town for the week leading up to Halloween and afterwards, but you, like many, could in no way afford a two-week holiday. Your run in with Michael wasn’t a secret though, so the day before Halloween your manager had sent you home early and told you to return a few days after the holiday. It felt like they were signing your death warrant, but it also made sense to keep the murder count down if Michael was gonna come for you again this year.

Ever since the past Halloween it had been impossible for you to sleep, to the point where you had been prescribed sleeping medication. You didn’t want to take it the days leading up to Halloween, terrified that you wouldn’t be able to wake up in case Michael showed up again, but as you sat on your couch already feeling like a corpse you were regretting that decision.

There hadn’t been a single report of murder this year though, so at some point in your sleep deprived delusions you’d convinced yourself all was safe, popped your meds, and fallen asleep in your bed still completely dressed. But maybe you should have listened to your paranoia more, as not long after you had gone to sleep a familiar slow-moving shadow snuck through your house, heavy footsteps approaching your bedroom where you laid splayed out like a starfish, a pool of drool already forming on your pillow.

Michael could only give a small head tilt as he saw your unconscious body, unsure of what to do. Part of him had hoped for a repeat of the last year, as the feeling of your ropes holding him in place had never left his mind, awakening a different kind of hunger than his usual hunger for blood. Even as Michael crawled up onto the bed, his bulk causing your bedframe to creak in complaint, you barely twitched.

Michael panted under his mask as his hands shook, feeling an unfamiliar churning in his abdomen as he dug through your drawers, pushing aside knickknacks and different toys you kept laying around, pulling out a colourful rope similar to the one you had used to tie him up with last year. His work was nowhere as skilled as your own, but it worked in securing your arms above your head, leaving them out of his way as his wild strength tore your clothes to ribbons.

You vision swam as you woke up, your body felt too heavy and sluggish like it always did when you woke up with your meds still in your system. Normally youd only wake if you really needed to go to the bathroom, something you were pretty sure you did in your sleep most days, but this time it was different. Something heavy was bearing down on you, and as you tried to move you found your arms strung up above your head. But most noticeably was the wet heat around your length, tight and insistent. Even in your sleep addled mind you could sense the strong thighs boxing in your hips as the persons rough hands groped at your torso.

The half coherent part of your mind was sure this was all a dream, even as your vision cleared for the most part, though it was still blurry around the edges. Because how else would any of this make sense. Why would Michael Myers of all people be riding you like his life depended on it, knocking the air right out of your chest as his bulky form weighed down on you. It wasn’t the weirdest wet dream you’d ever had, and you were pretty sure you had overheard somewhere that fear could lead to lust.

He wasn’t moaning, which saddened you somehow, even as he panted and gave small grunts when you would rub against his prostate. Had this all been real, you would have grabbed his hips to show him how to hit that spot every time, but it seemed in your dream your arms were tied, and the sluggish nature of your body made it hard to even roll your hips up into his.

It was only when his hands wrapped around your throat and you could feel yourself become lightheaded that it hit you that this might be real, as your hips started to ache from the speed of his riding and your vision started to swim from lack of oxygen and not just the meds in your system. The orgasm rolled through your entire body, starting from the top of your head, and running all the way down to your curling toes as you groaned sluggishly. You were sure drool was running down your chin at this point.

You would first realize the next morning that Michael came just as hard as you did, as he didn’t seem to have cared to clean you up afterwards. He had been polite enough to release your arms though. Your hips were killing you all day, who’d have thought having a guy Michael size ride you like a wild horse would mess up your back so much. It was only as you sat eating breakfast that it hit you that it had all really happened, and you needed to sit with your face in your hands for a bit, trying to fight off the heat it created in your abdomen, trying to ignore the small hope that hed return again tonight.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

RETRIBUTION

SEQUEL TO DAMNNATION. kindly read the prequel to get a better idea on the story's direction. I know I promised an alternate ending, where angst is not involved, but I want to prolong this pain for you masochists :> Enjoy this long, hefty, and incredibly hurtful read. But, it is okay my lovelies, I shall have a good-comforting parallel-universe ending written for you guys this week. SOOO pls do keep up with my profile :)

The legend goes on, with the God of the Sea failing to protect his beloved. His fate was decided for him by his people, but now, he shall take fate upon his own hands and remake his own endings. But, does fate falter? Even to a God?

Warnings: Angst Angst Angst Angst, Spoiler to Rafayel's Lore and I put in some of my own zesty twists to the lore, Deaths and Bloods and some okay maybe not some descriptive gore.

Rafayel walked across the sandy paths of Lemuria, in his human form, with his beloved laid peacefully in his arms. Rafayel did not even bothered to shift back into his merman form as he wanted to dedicate the mundane's death to his people. Or rather, to show how much he loves her, by being a shadow of her, a human, walking amongst Lemuria. A promise he had always given her.

"You promise to show me Lemuria someday right?" He remembered the way her face would light up when he tells her stories of Lemuria. From how Lemurians had sourced for various kinds of sea stones from different parts of the ocean to build their homes to how Lemurians were created, to what do their daily routines consists of and many other kinds of stories that a man could ever dream of hearing from an actual Lemurian.

There was not a moment that y/n was ever bored of it. Instead, whenever he visits, it naturally became a conversation starter. Y'n would ask him of the most random things. "So do Lemurians possess any gardrobes?" Rafayel nearly spat his tea out, snapping his head towards her when she mentioned about toilets as they were having snacks in the middle of the night within her chambers. "Or perhaps they just do their business wherever they are allowed to---" Before she could even finished, Rafayel would have his hand on her lips, to silence her before she continue ruining his appetite for the rest of the night.

The swipe of his fingers on her pale lips reminded him of those days. She is no longer smiling now, eyes and mouth closed, her skin looked ghoulish under the water, skin reflecting light whenever the lightning above struck the surface of the sea. Rafayel's face is a sheet of calm demeanour, but the soul that lays beneath the hunk of this man is a roaring sea, just like how he summoned for the storm before he stepped foot into the vast ocean.

Fishes and various kinds of sea creatures that used to swim along the pathways are not seen nor found within miles of Rafayel's sight. None of them were brave enough to be within his presence as they knew the aura that Rafayel had emitted. It is no doubt that sea creatures are much smarter than Lemurians. Every step he took made the sea creatures scattered further away, burying deeper into their hideouts, scared for their lives.

Rafayel stood in front of his kingdom, eyes pinned against the marble white towers that he calls home. Cheers and laughters could be heard from the banquet hall, where the Lemurians were probably herded, awaiting for his return for a grand celebration towards the revival of Lemuria. But Rafayel was far from a celebratory mood. "We have arrived, my love." His voice monotonous, no hints of happiness nor giddiness, nor sadness, nor disappointment. Just numbness. A man with feelings bears empathy and sympathy, but, a man without feelings bears emptiness, null and void of all emotions.

He continued his course, holding onto y/n tighter in his arms. He had the initial thought of wanting her body to rest within his chambers before he commits bloodshed. But, having an audience might not be a bad idea. Instead, Rafayel wanted this. He knew that she could not be able to tell nor see, nor to be there to stop him, but he wanted her soul to watch him commit this, to execute damnation upon his kind. All he wanted, was to show her how much he loves her, to the point he is willing to do this, to be a mad man.

The heavy doors leading to the banquet hall slowly opened with a chant of a spell. Rafayel's eyes staring straight ahead, his once two-toned irises had now dissolved to be a dark maroon colour. His guess was right, all of the Lemurians were gathered within this hall, laughters and conversations filled the environment. But, almost abruptly, the laughters and conversations seized, and Rafayel could care less about the whispers that started to take place within the silence.

It did not took long before some of the Lemurians sensed something was off and they started swimming towards the heavy doors. Rafayel chanted something under his breath and the doors slammed right in front of their faces. The ones who tried to escape were shocked, but none of them made their move to question why the God of the Sea had a dead girl with a gaping orifice on her chest within his arms and why did he chose to present himself in a miniature form of a mere mortal. Practically the size of an ant compared to the average 2m Lemurians surrounding him.

"Your highness!" Arvia was initially cheerful, emerging from the crowd before he spotted the girl the God was holding onto. He stopped in his tracks, wanting to turn back before he felt a strong force pulling him towards Rafayel. Arvia faced Rafayel, eyes bulging when the invisible force coiled around his neck. "Your highness.... please!" The young merman coughed, the crowd watching in horror.

"You were the messenger weren't you?" Rafayel asked, eyes looking past the young merman, not even sparing him any last bits of attention.

"I was only...executing...what...was being....told..." The merman replied, his breath getting more restricted by every passing second. "I did...not...know...of...the ceremony. Please...I just want to save---"

"Your highness, no!" A mermaid appeared from the crowd, with blonde hair curling like tendrils on land, hazel eyes staring at the young merman before darting over to Rafayel's figure. She happened to be Arvia's mother. "He did what he have to...To save us all." Her sentence made Rafayel's right eye twitched slightly, fueling the God's wrath even more. "Then," Rafayel turned his head and angled it upwards to stare at her right into her eyes. His dark eyes could quite literally burn a hole through her soul as she finds herself talking back to a God. Not just any God at this moment, for he has taken his stance as a vengeful God. "Should it be justified? That I am only doing this to save my beloved?" Before the mother could even say anything, Rafayel only exhaled his breath and Arvia's head immediately got cut off clean by the invisible force. The head's eyes blinked a couple of times, floating upwards towards the surface, while its body sank onto the sea floor, twitching as it goes down. Blood seeping out into the ocean waters, creating symbols guided by the waves.

Lemurians within the banquet hall went into immediate panic, screaming and screeching, wanting to leave the banquet to save themselves. Rafayel looked up, watching as the Lemurians tried to flee. Like a bunch of fishes trapped within a fisherman's net, pushing against one another and fighting for whatever that is left for their puny lives. His voice was hushed, but clear enough to be heard within the hall. "Don't worry my people, you shall only feel the hurt that I had felt." And all of the screams halted.

...

Amund dragged himself across the sea floor, a trail of blood painted by his very own body fluids. The man was in agonizing pain, nearly to the point of passing out. Just a while ago, he was getting all cozy within his own chambers before he heard loud screams that travelled through the sea rifts. But it did not took long before it stopped so he took no mind to it, figuring it was just another norm for those celebratory parties. Not segregating the mischievious ones from the docile ones, that is just an invitation for a mishap to happen at a party.

He heard a swoosh coming from the side of his house and his door slammed open to reveal the God of the Sea, in his mundane form, covered in splatters of blood from head to toe. Amund's jaw dropped when the screams finally registered into his head. The screams may just be caused by this man standing right in front of him. The very girl Amund had tortured set securely within Rafayel's arms. Rafayel's unusual calm demeanour is not part and parcel of his personality, which further solidified Amund's questions to himself.

"Your high---" Amund was literally smashed through the walls of his house and the merman landed roughly onto the sand pile behind his house. Rafayel walked through the hole, eyes still hollow and face expressionless. "Pleas---" Another slam through another wall. And this repeated for a couple of times, until Amund was laying on the sandy pathway in the village, blood pooling out of his mouth. He tried to escape, pushing himself up and trying his best to get his tail to wag so he could generate enough momentum to give him a boost off of the ocean floor.

"It was a fairly easy instruction." Rafayel spoke, finally. Maroon eyes boring into Amund's skull. "And yet, you failed." Rafayel knelt down, showing Amund the girl he was holding onto the whole time. "You had deeply failed me, Amund. And you had failed Lemuria." Rafayel stood back up on his feet, licking his lips and looking back towards the towers that he had walked out from. "For what you had done to her, death would only be the easy way out for you." Rafayel's eyes turned a darker shade and Amund let out a blood curdled scream, begging for his highness' mercy.

It has been a while, with Amund crawling on the sea floor. Dirt and rubble trapped under the old man's nails. Some of his nails however, were ripped off due to him being tossed around---his failure to hold onto anything to slow down the impact, caused some of his nails to be ripped right off of his fingertips during the impact---with Rafayel's invisible force whenever he tried to plead for the God's mercy.

Rafayel had managed to pluck out the merman's scale, piece by piece. Lemurians scale are used to make lethal weapons not only on land, but also in the waters. Yet, they are the hardest to harvest as pulling off ONE scale would equate to a human ripping off their whole scalp in one go. So, one could only imagine the pain Amund is going through currently. Amund could barely crawl, eyes swollen from the sand that had entered his tear duct and hoarse voices turned into silenced croaks.

If Rafayel was not holding onto his beloved, he would have easily been the one to pluck out Amund's scales one by one. Rafayel's blinding rage had deluded his mind, as he watched the merman who is the reason behind his lover's death. "She was going to be my mate, my lifetime mate, for this upcoming season, do you know that?" Rafayel scoffed, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

"But you had to just test my patience, and my capabilities as the God of the Sea. Hence, what you had experienced today, shall never equate to the pain you made me go through. For you had taken my fate, my people's fate upon your own hands." He gave Amund a good kick and the guy groaned in agony, facing down as he regurgitated blood. "What I did today, was nothing but a mere taste of what I am capable of. AS A GOD." His last sentence carried a strong surge of disgust, his bloodlust psyche temporarily separated his status between Amund, an ordinary merman and himself, which is made to be a God.

"I curse...curse her." He managed to choke out and Rafayel's eyes widened, immediately leaping forward to grab the merman's head to face him. The merman croaked out his very last laugh, taunting Rafayel's actions and the last sentence of his was spoken in Lemurian, a rendition of a chant to curse y/n to be reincarnated into a sea witch.

Rafayel's blink of an eye sparked his evol, and he stood there, watching the eternal flames that was casted on Amund burn the merman from what was left of him into a pile of dust, waiting to be consumed by the planktons that lives within the sea water's ecosystem. Tears unknowingly flowed down his cheek and trickled onto his lover's face. The show is over and so is his wish to see her to be a mundane again in her next life. Rafayel held her corpse closely and tightly to his body, soft sobs finally leaving his lips as he faltered to the sea floor.

...

Hundreds of years has passed. And hundreds of years, Rafayel had travelled the seas to search for her. To at least sense any signs of her presence. Ever since the massacre, Rafayel was tied down by his own guilt, for not only failing to protect his lover, but also being the sole reason for the extinction of Lemurians. How uncanny, a legend that tells the tale of a God seeking vengeance upon his own kind just because they had killed his one and only lover. That tale would surely be pure nonsensical or would and could possibly generate pure hatred from anyone who hears it.

Rafayel could care less, like how he heard the screams of his people in their very last moments, the sound of blood and tears splattered across the once white and pristine walls that they were confined within. The sound of Amund begging not to be killed---with his throat slowly giving up on him---the last curse that he uttered and the last sounds that had bubbled from him when he was lit up with Rafayel's evol.

A hint of humming caught his ears and the man stopped his movements, ears twitching in directions to catch onto the tune. A tune only he has ever whistled. With a gesture, dolphins came surrounding the God in circles, by command. "Find out the source for me, yeah?" Rafayel asked and the circling dolphins chirped in return before they dispersed into all directions.

Rafayel's heart skipped a beat, out of nervousness? He had no idea, he still has not gotten used to the idea of his heart being whole again. Because his heart has only been whole only when he was with her. He does not need a whole heart, he only needs her to fill in for the whole of his heart. And for that moment, he shall forever await.

One of the dolphins returned, whistling back to catch the God's attention. Rafayel looked up, and without hesitation, grab ahold onto the dolphin's fin and he was led towards the source of the humming. The dolphins brought him through the kelp grounds, where his people would usually come by to forage for food when they migrate to the northern side for warmer waters during the changing in seasons.

The dolphin led him to the side of the cliff, where it plunges down to the deepest part of the ocean. Creatures beneath those waters are indespicable, and no Lemurians had ever dived that deep. And that includes the God of Sea himself. The humming came again, this time further confirming that the source of the sound came from down below. Rafayel turned around to look for the dolphin, but the poor creature had left him all alone the moment it dropped him off here.

With a deep breath and a puff of his chest, the purple haired God swam deep into the dark waters below. All of his senses heightened to the max as he himself would not expect what he might encounter. Legends were told that there lives a sea serpent so huge that it could engulf the whole world if it awakes. And that was the only legend that still kept Rafayel on edge till now.

His fear dissipated almost instantly when he spotted a faint light in the far distance within the dark. You see, Lemurians although are half-fish and half-man, they do not possess infrared vision that allows them to see in the depths. Within the depths, Rafayel's flames do not work as well as this is the place where Gods are not exactly welcomed. He sped up his swimming when he noticed the light bounces further down into the dark. Pause. Then the light comes back up, but this time, at a very high speed.

Noticing a huge shadow, Rafayel turned and immediately started charging full speed towards the cliff again. But due to the darkness of the waters around him, the God found himself entrapped in the darkness, bumping and hitting himself against the cliffside. The bone-crushing, chomping sounds that came from behind him made him not-one-bit curious to see what was actually chasing him. Right when he was about to be gnawed by a creature, he heard a voice calling out in a language he had not heard of and he blacked out.

...

"I think he is waking up." A voice whispered next to Rafayel. "His eyes are fluttering."

"Is it? Oh yeah, he does look like he is awakening." Another voice intruded, deeper, but not enough to be known as a man's voice.

Rafayel slowly opened his eyes, before he was met with two snailfishes. One with a red while another is tinted with a blue hue. His eyes darted in between the two fishes as he was trying to comprehend if they were the ones talking earlier.

"Good morning." The red one spoke and Rafayel gasped, moving away from the fish. His pupils blown out as he was shocked. He has seen fishes all of his life, but he had never encountered talking fishes. EVER. But making spells to make fishes talk is definitely a skill only a sea witch possesses. This gave Rafayel a thought, maybe she felt lonely down here so she made herself some friends.

"You scared him Red." The blue one spoke this time, and it swam closer towards Rafayel, using its spiny fins to mimic how a mundane would usually talk. Gestures, as what was taught to the snailfishes, is a common courtesy of good body language to humans. But given the snailfishes had never been in contact with any humans, they took the closest resemblance to what their highness looked like. Rafayel looked just like a human to them.

With parted hair and two eyes, a nose and a lip. He is obviously a human to their knowledge. "We are not going to hurt you." The blue fish gestured it's small fins in circles, speaking slowly for each word, afraid that the man before it would not understand them. "Our master ask us to care for you as she went out to gather some food."

"Who is your master?" Rafayel asked as he sat up, kindly hoping that it was the girl he had awaited for many years. "Where is she?" His excitement made him winced, his head still hurts, a side effect of a sea witch's spell.

The feel of the water temperature shifting made the two snailfishes swam off to one of the tunnels. Rafayel took this time to observe his surroundings. Contrast to the dark waters he was in just now, he is currently in a cave like structure, with huge seaweeds and some pebbles laid out beneath him and a sea lantern hung up at every corner of the cave to provide some decent lighting. For a moment, he did not believe that he is in a sea witch's abode.

The walls had paints on them, some forming artworks of the seas above, and some were writings written in what Rafayel assumed to be sea witch's language. Rafayel stopped at one of the drawings, it was a rough sketch of Lemuria. Seeing the sketch, his breath hitched in his throat. The past memories of his massacre surfacing again but he forced it down. Not willing to show weakness in such a foreign territory. Below the sketch, there were symbols that Rafayel could not read. But he decided not to further crack his head.

The fishes returned and Rafayel's heart dropped to the bottom of his tail when he was met with her. The girl who he had always been waiting, the girl he had committed massacre for, the girl that had made him suffer with loneliness for the past hundred years. Y/n is now in front of him, but other than human legs, it was swapped with a black and singular long tail, resembling one a Moray eel has. Her once brunette curls took on a much darker shade, the same as the waters below here. The curse happened after all, for she had became the sea witch of the depths.

"You are awake." Y/n spoke and oh how he missed her voice. The voice that produces the best laughters and asked the most silly questions. Yet, with this version of her, her voice held none of those characteristics he remembered. It was deadpanned, the lack of emotions nearly made Rafayel winced. With his lack of a response, the sea witch looked towards both of her friends. "Does he happen to be a mute?"

"He spoke to us just now, but more like engaged us in a question or two." The blue snailfish chirped, swimming back to the side of Rafayel. The same fin that used to make gestures came to give a pat onto Rafayel's cheek and the merman turned to look at the fish in question. Seeing Rafayel's reaction, the fish hurriedly swam back to its master. "He is a human as you described right? Right, master?"

"Not quite, Blue." Ironic, Rafayel thought. It is very ironic of her to name things exactly based on the way they looked. It has always been a habit of hers. She placed the seashells she had harvested neatly onto the floor and she swam over to have a closer look at Rafayel. "I think, his origins are of a mermaid." Her eyes are now a different shade of colour, black irises match the shade of her pupils. Another staple for a sea witch. "I apologise for the black out you had to experience earlier on. I had to cease the Angler Fish from rising towards the surface as I did not want it to disturb the ecosystem as of above."

"Do you know of my name?" Rafayel asked, a glimmer of hope shined in his eyes as he really wished for her to remember at least a slither of memory of him. For he had been her one and only lover in her past life. But with the way she raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, his hope got extinguished like a fire that could not be ignited.

"What do you seek for, Lemurian?" Y/n swam back towards the pile of sea shells she had collected and she grabbed one of the bottles from above her shelf. Examining the shells one by one before placing them into the bottle, only the ones that has spots on them would be chosen while the other would be tossed aside and the two snailfishes seem to be having a feast with the leftovers.

The turn of her head got her to look him right into his eyes. The warm glow emitting from the sea lantern casting a soft glow on her face. Just like the time when he held her in his arms, on top of the rock. He tore his eyes away from her, his cheeks burning from how affected he was from her gaze. But he answered her. "I came here for a potion. A potion to cure me from my wandering heart." ...

It took y/n 100 days, a cycle between 50 days and 50 nights to produce the potion that Rafayel had requested for. Shortly after the interaction, Rafayel had returned back to the shallow seas, as he could not bear to watch the love of his life not knowing him for who he is and who he was to her.

His last words to her before he departed to the shallows was, "Once the potion has been completed, I shall meet you at the sea stacks by dawn. The one far north." He said, index finger pointing towards the said direction. His eyes does not meet hers before he left. That was how heartbroken he was. His heart wearing him down day by day as he waited for the potion to be crafted.

During the 100 days of wait, he kept going back and forth between the waters and land to keep himself occupied. But the land served him better as the mourning of the princess had ended long ago. When the princess went missing, the King sent out every single one of his troops to search for the lost princess.

Rafayel purposely placed her back onto the sea stacks so she could be found easily. Knowing the God, he would have kept her by his side even if she were to be nothing but a bag of bones, but he knew, her people would want to know of her whereabouts. Even if it would only bring them to her corpse. He could not give himself anymore liberty to take her away from her people, like how he had singlehandedly perished the people of his kingdom. He did not turned his head back at all once he had left her there, swimming away in full speed so that he would not be discovered and caught, and to save himself from crying anymore.

The beloved princess' death was mourned by all. Every citizen within the Kingdom's grounds were in tears, regardless if its a man or a woman, an adult or a child. That was how loved she was. Her people mourned for her for nearly five decades, and that was how long Rafayel refused to surface and to walk on land. Every time he closed in to the shores of her kingdom, the sounds of the cries of her people would strike his ears. He became so used to it that he would visit the same place every day, by dusk, just to silently cry and mourn with the people of her kingdom.

He would not even go anywhere near his kingdom either. For it was filled with the bones of his people. The people that he used to cherish, that he would always go back to. But now, all he returns to, is a dead and eerie silence. The bloody stains of his people had now hardened, taken over by sea crustaceans as Lemurian blood offers a lot of benefits to the sea creatures. If any Lemurians lived past that day, Rafayal would definitely earn the title of 'The God Who Went Deranged'.

The day has finally came, where they shall rejoice by the sea stacks. Rafayel was already waiting there since dusk, body floating above the waters, facing up towards the bright skies painted in pastel yellows and reds. Blobs of clouds that seemed so edible Rafayel wished he could fly instead of swim. A bunch of bubbles surfaced next to him and he slightly turned his head, watching as she emerged from the waters, holding two vials in her hand. Her face expressionless and cold as the first time he had met her in this life.

"Here." She handed him one of the vials and he took it, repositioning himself from having to float, to facing her directly. "Are you sure this is what you desire?" Her question caught his attention, his mixture of lilac-lapis orbs stared into her obsidian ones. "Because your memories will be perished forever, do you know that?"

Rafayel looked at the vial, the contents of the fluid is watery, and takes on a sheen of coral-like pink. "My mind is set." His eyes caught her again. "This is what I had desired when I met you that day." His words although does not hold any meaning to the sea witch, but it held meanings that one could never fathom, within the God of Sea's memories.

"This is usually done between two, one to forget while the other to contain the forgotten memories." She explained, holding up the vial to her eye level as she continued. "And since you do not have anyone you want to consume this with, I shall be the one to contain your forgotten memories."

As expected, Rafayel knew she was going to say this. He had never once mentioned anything about the Lemurians being extinct. Neither did she asked. Always putting people ahead of herself, her nature still seeped through from her past life that it has easily become one of her core personalities even till now. Rafayel silently sighed in his own mind when he looked at this woman in front of him. The lover that he had sworn his life to, became the lover that was seemingly a stranger to him.

"We shall consume this together, and with a chant of a spell, hence the void of the memory shall take upon its place." Rafayel pulled the cap open, mirroring her actions and they drank the mixture together. Rafayel winced at how bitter the content tasted but y/n seemed unaffected, as sea witches are not equipped with a sense of taste as most of their potions tasted wicked as their personalities had always been portrayed to be. "Well enough to start?"

"Hu-Ayr-Tey Ta-Fa-Fu-Lei." Rafayel chanted and he watched as y/n's eyes widened. Finally, a reaction from her. Not in the way he had hoped for a reaction of course. You see, Rafayel, being God of the Sea, although had never travelled through the deep waters and had never knew of the Sea Witches' language, but the spells equipped by the sea witches were born out of a God's nature. Should there be benevolence, there shall be malevolence. Just like how Rafayel's massacre is a proof of a God's malevolent nature taking place physically, a sea witch's spells are born out of a God's mentally twisted nature.

"What have you done?!" She held onto her neck, feeling herself struggling to breathe as her neck is closing up on her. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" She raised her voice, looking at him with anger that starts to paint her face a shade of red. "How do you know of this spell?!" She was in disbelief, eyes shooting daggers into the merman in front of her. Rafayel showed no amusement though, his eyes although were entirely focused on her, his heart crushed.

Fate in general, creates thousands and millions of possibilities towards one's ending. For a God, fate should easily be nothing but a just another miniscule issue within their palms. But for Rafayel, the moment he fell for a mundane, was the moment he signed a blackmail for himself. He has to gamble with fate now, just like with any other mere mortal. The only advantage he got is that he could look into the near future to help him better plan out his upcoming course of actions.

This happening now, marks one of his course of actions. The fate he had chosen was to kill y/n with his own hands, so she could be reincarnated to be a human in her next life. Then, he could take place as a man, on the land, seeking for her love and attention, just like how a mere mortal would. Yes. Rafayel, the God of the Sea, would risk his status of being a God just to be a human, just to be with her. "This is the only way." He spoke to her, as he watched her slowly lose her memories to swim, her tail, now a pair of legs, flailing clumsily in an effort to save herself.

The spell that he had uttered, does not only make her forget her own identity, but it makes her forget everything, wiping everything off of her memory and giving her a clean slate. A reincarnated soul would always remember bits of their past lives, that is how deja-vu and realistic dreams come about. But this spell would wipe her memory of her past life as well. As bad as it sounds, Rafayel sees this as the only viable way for him to live his next life, having to protect her. All the other courses of action, would only lead to more bloodshed and he grew tired of it.

The tears came flowing again, watching his beloved struggle to breathe as she started to choke onto the seawater that is rapidly entering her lungs. Rafayel could only watch, he could not interfere as it would ruin the course of her next life. Heart wrenching, gut punching, every other word of torturous feeling would describe him perfectly at this moment.

Y/n reached out her hand to him, desperately looking at him and clawing for him, seeking for his help to drag her out and onto solid land. But his refusal seemingly made her accepted her fate. Her pupils then slowly stopped moving, her body slowly stopped thrashing and twitching as she continued descended deeper into the waters. A scene that reminded him deeply of Arvia during his last moments.

Once the bubbles had stopped surfacing out of her agape lips, Rafayel swam down as fast as he could, and he held her cold body in his arms again, closely studying her very last moments. Her eyes were opened, in a state of shock and acceptance, lips blue like the shade of his lapis-coloured eyes, tail had now taken form into two legs, her body stiff and hollow like how she was when he first found her in the past 100 years. The curse was finally broken, but it also broke Rafayel. With shaky breaths, he uttered. "In your next life, I promise you. I promise. You shall only ever hear of my name as to be Rafayel. I shall no longer...be the God of the Sea."

Parallel Universe Ending is Out: Salvation

I love doubling the damage sometimes, this one-shot had became somewhat of a small series. I enjoyed using a bit of my gore movie visual experiences within this piece of writing. Thank you for the ones who wished for a sequel. I hope this makes you bawl your eyes out.

But do not worry, I am already starting on a not-so-angsty ending that takes place in a parallel universe. I don't think this series would continue on as I think it is best to leave it to you lovelies' vast imagination.

As usual, any requests you want me to write? I can write it for ya :)

Have a good day and pls cry for me lovelies :)

[callsigns-haze]

His darkness, my flame: The start

Azriel and YN ended things for good. Things that happened during her release may have been bad: Azriels lies were worse. Now he lies with another she is alone at night with her son until someone breaks into her home sweet home.

Pairing: Ex!Azriel x reader....Eris x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences

Plays as a sequel of my series His Shadow or as a own fic!

The night enveloped YN in a shroud of darkness, the only sound being the occasional rustle of leaves outside her cabin in the mountain forest. The faint glow of the moon filtered through the window, casting a silvery light that danced across her room. She stirred from a restless sleep, her eyes fluttering open to the digital clock on her bedside table that glowed ominously in the stillness—2:37 AM.

A sense of dread washed over her as she turned her head slowly to the side, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of her three-year-old son, Knox, who was nestled in the room beside her. The weight of silence pressed against her chest, a reminder of the responsibilities that tethered her to wakefulness.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the coolness of the sheets where Azriel used to sleep. Now he lies with that stupid high lady's sister Elain. The memories came flooding back—his gentle presence, the way he would wrap her in warmth, the way Knox had once cooed in his arms as a baby. But those days felt distant now, almost like a cruel dream.

Her fingers brushed against the rough wood of the drawer beside her, pulling it open with a soft creak. Inside, she found a small assortment of pills, a mix of painkillers and anxiolytics that she had come to rely on since fleeing the pleasure houses that had once held her captive. Each pill felt like a bittersweet promise of relief, a temporary escape from the haunting memories that lingered, reminding her of the choices she had made. She took a handful, her throat tight as she swallowed them dry, desperate for a moment of calm.

Rising from the bed, she moved quietly through the cabin, each step deliberate as she navigated the shadows. The chill in the air prickled against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the memories that filled her mind. She entered the small kitchen, seeking solace in a glass of water. As she poured the cool liquid, the sound of the stream echoed in the silence, her heart racing as the night seemed to whisper secrets she wasn’t ready to hear.

But then, a soft creak shattered the tranquillity. YN turned sharply, her heart pounding in her chest. In the dim light of the kitchen, a figure sat in one of the chairs, shrouded in darkness. The flickering shadows revealed the glint of a dagger as it twirled effortlessly in the figure’s hands. Panic surged through her, and she instinctively stepped back, her body tense and ready for a fight.

“What do you want?” she demanded, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

The figure leaned back, the dagger spinning to a halt in his palm. “We have the same goal,” he replied, his voice smooth, yet laced with an unsettling confidence. “Revenge on the Inner Circle.”

YN narrowed her eyes, her mind racing as she tried to place the voice. “Who are you?” she asked, her breath hitching in her throat.

With a fluid motion, the figure pulled back his hood, revealing sharp features framed by tousled hair and a piercing gaze that seemed to glow even in the shadows. “Eris,” he introduced himself, a smirk playing on his lips. “Son of the Lord of Autumn. You may have heard of me.”

Recognition flickered through YN, a mix of surprise and wariness. “What do you want with me?”

Eris leaned forward, the dagger still glinting in his hand, an unsettling charm emanating from him. “You have a unique perspective on the Inner Circle’s power plays. I believe we could help each other.”

As she stood before him, uncertainty clawed at her heart. The weight of her past decisions and the tangled web of loyalties and betrayals pressed heavily upon her. The night was still young, but in this moment, with a dangerous stranger offering a path toward revenge, YN realized that her life was about to take another unpredictable turn.

A/N: let me know if you'd like to be tagged

[hbyrde36]

Rêver de la Petite Mort

Explicit | WC: 2662 | AO3

Sequel ficlet to Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter feat. fanart by Penny00dreadful

For @penny00dreadful 🖤

So-um... haha, funny story? 😅 Happy Father's Day to our @strangerthingswritersguild Daddy 👀 🙈 No, I will not explain 🤣🤣🤣

It wasn’t often that Steve slept while the sun was down these days. 

Ever since he’d asked Eddie to mark him again, to make them one heart, one mind, one soul in two bodies, he kept to a more nocturnal schedule than ever, preferring the company of the creatures of the city, their people, as well as the dedicated few who kept the world spinning while most of polite society snoozed in their beds.

He was already used to the graveyard shift, literally, even if he didn’t spend much time raising the dead lately unless he was helping to train the new hires with Wayne at the Animating firm they’d started together, or testing out the full strength of his magical abilities during his own unique training, with Jane as his guide.

But, naturally, as the official human servant of the Master of the City—servant in name only, mind you… and perhaps sometimes in the bedroom—occasionally it fell on Steve to take care of daylight business for his vampire lover, leaving him no choice but to find his rest while Eddie was up and about for the night.

Steve wasn’t sure how he could have forgotten the far-reaching implications of their joining, what them being connected in this way allowed Eddie to do while he slept, but color him pleasantly surprised when one evening, after having to sit through countless exhausting meetings with everyone from the mayor, to the loathsome head of the Order of the Eternal, Jason Carver, he fell into bed and quickly landed in a dream that gave him the most titillating case of déjà vu.

A familiar, throbbing beat pounded through Steve’s chest like a second pulse as he gradually became aware of his surroundings. He was sitting on a velvet upholstered high back chair in the middle of a large empty space, dark save for a line of scarlet light that glowed in the near distance, illuminating the black and burgundy backdrop on a low stage that had a single brightly polished pole running through its center.

Of course, Guilty Pleasures. 

He was at the club. 

The lights, dim at first, raised up as the extended introduction of a song Steve knew oh-so-well continued to play, gradually growing louder. He was already breathless, his heart hammering and his fingers clenching the edges of his seat even before the first words of the song came purring out of unseen speakers.

You let me violate you

On musical cue, and in typical dramatic fashion, the pale vision of otherworldly beauty better known to Steve now as his adoring other half—Eddie, prowled out of the wings and onto the stage wearing extremely low-rise black leather pants that hugged his body as if they’d been painted on, his favorite pair of shiny patent fuck-me boots, and absolutely nothing else.

And Steve was practically ruined before the show had even started.

The pale skin of Eddie’s upper body shone with a luminous glow in the half shadow as he made his way to the pole, each step deliberate, his hips swaying with the ease of someone who knew exactly how sinful he looked. 

All of his long curly hair was pulled back, loosely piled in a wild yet artful tangle on top of his head, leaving his lovely delicate throat bare, and his pretty face wide open to be gazed upon. Everything about him screamed—desire me, watch me. As if Steve could ever look away. As if he’d ever want to.

You let me desecrate you.

When Eddie finally reached center stage, gripping the pole with long slender fingers, his eyes locked on Steve’s own for the first time, his mouth curving into a feral grin full of heat and promise. There was a hunger to it. 

A knowing. 

Steve was instantly transported back in time, back to the days where he’d let his prejudice overrun his attraction, and worse than that, his compassion, his morals, and his good sense. He’d come such a long way since then, and though he still felt a twinge of guilt whenever he remembered what he’d done, what fate had almost befallen all those he cared about most due to his own stubbornness, he’d never been happier. 

With one hand on the pole Eddie leaned away, arching his back with an inhuman grace, and as he made a slow drop into a full split, Steve continued to recall the last time he’d been sucked into this very same dream.

You let me penetrate you

Back then he’d been sure it was only a dream, and had let himself play into his secret desires for that reason alone, able to hide behind the lie that he would have never have offered himself up to Eddie in his right mind during wakeful hours. The difference now was that he knew exactly what it felt like to give in, to trail his tongue along the dark line of hair that ran down Eddie’s lower stomach. He’d explored and worshiped what lay beyond the waistband of those pants countless times with hands and mouth, taken the long hard length of Eddie’s cock down his throat and into his body with all the reverence of a parishioner taking the sacrament. This time, as he watched the vampire begin his dance for an audience of one, Steve felt that same attraction as before, yes, but also intense and boundless love.

You let me complicate you

In a move as smooth as his descent had been, Eddie brought his legs together again and rose to his feet. He rounded the pole like a predator circling its prey, his body rolling and undulating in a dizzying display. Every movement he made flowed into the next. Fluid, seductive, sharp like a blade yet soft as a kiss. He wasn’t just dancing, he was making love to the pole, the air, the room.

And it was all for Steve. 

Warmth bloomed in his chest, joining with the fiery heat that had been building in his groin since the moment Eddie stepped out into the open. It crawled up his neck, raw desire taking hold of his mind, and not just from the sheer visual stimulation of Eddie’s body in motion, but from the absolute knowing that Eddie was his, and he was Eddie’s.

Help me

Help me indeed. 

It took all of Steve’s willpower to stay put, not to rush the stage and throw his arms around his boyfriend, begging to be taken. Such a silly word, boyfriend. Much too simple a concept for what they were to each other really. Partner was a little better but it still didn’t come anywhere close to describing how Steve felt.

Husband had a certain… ring to it though. 

He didn’t want to interrupt the show, and whatever else Eddie might have planned, but, maybe he could at least watch from a much closer vantage point, without ruining the carefully fabricated recreation.

With hard won ease, Steve concentrated on what he wanted to change, knowing he had just as much influence over the dream they were in as Eddie did, probably more so if anything with his growing control over his magical abilities. Between one blink and the next he was no longer yards away watching Eddie dance from a nice safe distance. He was there, on the stage, right behind the pole, still lounging in his fancy chair having hardly missed a beat of the performance. 

Eddie didn’t seem to notice the change at first, too far gone in his dance and the music, until suddenly, he was airborne, flipping upside down and slowly rotating as his legs straddled the pole above him. His head tipped back, sending his hair falling free from its bounds, cascading down like an inky curtain, almost brushing the floor.

Eddie flashed him a quick, wide grin when he spotted his new position on the stage, the vampire’s fangs briefly catching the lights. Just a glimpse. A reminder.

Dangerous.

Beautiful.

His.

Steve pulled his lower lip between his teeth, fighting not to palm himself through his jeans.

And then Eddie was on him.

Flexing his own control no doubt, Eddie vanished before Steve’s eyes, reappearing behind him. Which he only knew by feel, the delicate touch of Eddie’s fingertips trailing across his shoulders and the back of his neck. He’d done more than merely transport himself too, Steve discovered, when Eddie twirled around to the front of the chair, the small twin globes of his pale pert ass on full display in a delicate black lace thong. 

Steve groaned, his mouth watering at the tempting sight of even more suddenly bare flesh.

One more elegant turn and Eddie was straddling his lap in a smooth, teasing motion, his rigid cock barely contained within the skimpy undergarment as his hips rolled in perfect time with the heavy beat.

Their eyes met again, so close now, and Eddie’s hand came down to caress his cheek, a gentle touch, underlining the love beneath the show of seduction, a fierce tenderness wrapped up in every bob and sway. His dance never stopped, but became a slow intoxicating grind as he rode Steve deeper and harder into the chair.

“Touch me,” Eddie purred, his voice thick as honey and rough like smoke, a clear sign that he was as affected by all of this as Steve was. And when he didn’t obey quickly enough, lost in the delicious friction, Eddie grabbed him hard by his wrists, pulling his arms back and settling his hands firmly on his ass. “This is all yours.”

Steve’s breath caught, the chill of Eddie’s skin biting like a shock as his hands automatically kneaded the familiar mounds of supple flesh, though he was mostly used to it now. Loved it, even. The contrast between the vampire’s icy skin and his own flushed heat only added another layer to their unique intimacy.

God, how had he gotten so lucky?

His fingers moved on, brushing up the smooth line of Eddie’s back, running softly over his ribs and the flat plane of his stomach, digging in at the dip of his hips as they rolled down again and again. Eddie leaned in, his mouth all at once just inches away, his full lips half-parted, and his burning ember eyes alight with need.

Steve surged forward to answer that need with his own. Even in desperation, crashing together without regard for technique, their mouths slotted together perfectly, as they always had, like they were made for each other, and for each other alone. 

“And you are mine, Steve,” Eddie whispered, pulling back from the kiss far too soon for Steve’s liking. A transgression he was happy to forgive for now, in favor of watching Eddie slide down his body to land on the floor at his feet.  

“Every inch,” Eddie went on, his eyes growing even more luminescent as he pushed Steve’s knees apart, opening his legs wide, allowing the vampire plenty of space to rub his cheek against Steve’s clothed inner thigh, for all the world like a great cat scent marking his territory. 

Steve’s entire body shuddered in anticipation, his thoughts slow, mind drunk on the very idea of what was about to happen. He could only nod, offering up a breathless, “always,” as Eddie undid his fly, working his pants down around his ankles with an adoring smile.

“You know, I may have lived for a long time before you, sweetheart, but I did not truly feel alive until you came along.”

“I love you,” Steve gasped softly, breath hitching as Eddie finally took him in hand, fingers trailing gentle, teasing strokes along his length.

Eddie’s long lashes fluttered, his wide eyes looking up to lock with Steve’s, and with something like reverence, pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his cock, showing the same care and affection reserved for his mouth only moments ago.

“I love you, too.”

Words fell away after that, with Eddie wasting no more time in wrapping his plush lips around the head of him, mindful even here in a dream, to keep his sharp fangs from nicking what was most sensitive.

Steve moaned at the feel of it, winding both of his hands into the mess of Eddie’s tangled hair to pull it back from his face, while fighting to keep his hips carefully still. Eddie always lamented the fact that he couldn’t deep throat without drawing blood. Steve wasn’t sure he’d mind it at this point, but it was something they had yet to try. What Eddie didn’t realize was how much Steve adored his talented tongue, the way it laved over the velvet-soft skin of his shaft, wet and slick, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. And when he swirled that sinful tongue in slow, deliberate circles around Steve's reddening tip, it wasn’t just pleasure, it was perfect bliss. The sensation was dizzying, each motion drawing out a helpless tremor in Steve’s thighs, and forcing low, broken sounds from his throat.

Time lost all meaning once he had Eddie bobbing between his legs, but Steve knew it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes at most when he felt that coil inside begin to tighten. He just needed a little something more.

“Eddie, please,” Steve begged, not even knowing what he pleaded for but sure that Eddie would figure it out for him.

And of course, he did.

Eddie slowly backed himself off of Steve’s now throbbing cock, dipping into the slit with the tip of his tongue to catch a bead of precum before pulling his mouth away altogether. Steve whined at the loss, even as Eddie took him back in hand and stroked him at a feverish pace, a desperate pathetic sound that he knew got the vampire off like nothing else. Proven by the way Eddie growled into the hollow of Steve’s groin, while nosing along the sensitive skin there, until he found what he was looking for. A place where Steve knew his pulse thrummed near the surface, racing as it waited to be set free.

The pain was sharp and immediate.

Then it was gone, swallowed by something electric that crashed through his nerves like lightning. Exquisite pleasure, but not the kind you could name, like an orgasm. This was deeper, something primal that pulled at his soul, devouring and worshipping in one. That mere thought would have sent his past self running for the hills, had he managed to get this far, but the Steve of today, of now, the one that was so in love with the vampire—the man at his feet—could only fist Eddie’s hair harder and coax him on.

As much as Steve wanted to live in this moment, letting it stretch on forever, he had no hope of lasting once Eddie started to feed. He’d had no hope of lasting anyway, not after all the buildup, watching Eddie work the pole, and that heady lap dance.

A few more strokes and Steve was ecstasy, the physical embodiment of pleasure trapped in a body made of flesh and bone and blood, and he screamed Eddie’s name to the sky like a prayer to a god he hoped would forgive them both, as he spilled in a hot torrent over his lover’s fist.

Steve woke, his mouth still hanging wide open in a silent scream, unsurprised to feel a still warm wet spot where his silk sleep shorts were stretched right over his thigh. He blinked his eyes open, still riding the last trickling wave of euphoria, to find Eddie lounging in their bed next to him, trailing his fingers up and down his bare chest. 

“Hello, Sweetheart,” Eddie said softly, his mouth pulling into a wide, cheshire grin. “Sleep well?”

Steve yawned, stretching his arms high above his head, and let out a contented sigh, rolling over to press a tender kiss to Eddie's cheek. “Never better.”

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @sidekick-hero @firefly-party

@bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog  @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1

@rocknrollsalad @eternal-sunflowers @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @estrellami-1

Also a few extra folks I remember enjoying SHVH @mentallyundone @hellion-child @tinytalkingtina @vthx @thisusernameisunavailable01