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scuttlingcrab · 13 days

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Fiendish Rewards

Summary: Raphael appears at Withers' party, hoping to finally collect the Crown of Karsus from Tav. However, an unexpected turn of events causes Raphael to re-think his plans.

Notes: Featuring growing tensions and light angst. I always wondered what would happen when Raphael wore the Crown for the first time. This might be a wee bit too long but I initially intended this to be another submission for @dmagedgoods Raphael romance collection.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via raphael-ancunin)

Raphael knew he was intruding. He had no business attending Withers' party, yet he arrived fashionably late all the same. He would never show his face, grace the companions with his presence, merely to exchange pleasantries. As tempting as their tadpole-free souls were, the simple minded mortals had no meaning to him now that the Elder Brain was defeated. That evening Raphael’s only desire was to collect the Crown of Karsus. And perhaps, converse with that little mouse, if time allowed.

Thus, the Devil did what he knew best: lurked from the shadows of the wings and listened for his cue.

Raphael had abided for over a millennium after he lost the Crown to Mephistopheles, lashing out with such violent anger in the first century that he nearly eradicated an entire plane. That initial taste of defeat never left his memory; the bitterness, that rotting feeling he felt deep within his core still haunted him. It was his first introduction to failure and the last.

He eventually learned how to forge that frothing hatred for his father, his revulsion at the cursed cards he had been dealt with, into a far more superior weapon: knowledge, his greatest strength. Raphael researched, manipulated, and opened up the recesses of his mind to devour the ins-and-outs of the Hells. He painstakingly plotted, weaving his schemes into the very fabric of fate itself, planting the seeds of prosperity for what he hoped would eventually gain him a win.

Despite all Raphael had endured since the collapse of Netheril, the last 6 months had been the most excruciating. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. There was no longer an Archdevil in his path, but a mere mortal. His hunger for power grew rampant as he watched Tav continue to elude him, to harbour the final piece of his victory as she tried to reclaim what was left of her old life. That selfish creature.

To Tav’s credit, she had been quite remarkable on the battlefield, showcasing her strength and resolve as she smited enemies and climbed through the carnage to her destiny. She left a sea of corpses in her wake, the mortal rubble alone was unlike anything Raphael had ever seen. Out of all the calamities he had been fortunate enough to craft and witness, being a spectator during the fight against the Netherbrain would forever be a highlight.

When the Crown fell into the River Chionthar, Raphael eagerly watched as Tav spent weeks fishing it out, taking her precious time as she retrieved each broken piece of his future. He restlessly stormed the halls of his domain, cursing the woman for attempting such an arduous task alone. He could have aided her, sent in Korrilla as a last resort, but he refused. He would not give Tav the satisfaction, she would have to work just a little more to complete her end of the bargain. Besides, there was something endearing about watching Tav work so diligently, the determination in those eyes reminded Raphael of himself.

The little mouse was Raphael’s greatest investment and he’d be damned if she failed him now, or if he let his sudden affinity for her overtake his true purpose. Raphael’s ambitions for the Crown had somehow intertwined with his infatuation for the woman, and he was just as much to blame.

He had let this farce go on for long enough. Raphael would not stoop so low in his final moments before he rose to glory. Once Tav crowned him, these foolish emotions would cease and he would continue with his grand plan. He was a Devil and he would not let these cursed mortal emotions falter his intentions any longer; he would never allow anything, anyone, to destroy his work. Raphael’s blood, sweat, and tears would not be in vain.

Cheering suddenly came from the camp as Tav and her companions raised their chalices in celebration. Withers' speech had finally ended, much to Raphael’s delight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve listened to the monotonous dribble. The monologue was indeed rousing, but Raphael could’ve done better, if given the opportunity.

One by one, the group of heroes slowly disbanded, until only Tav remained. She made her way around the camp, stopping by each empty tent. It was as if the little mouse was paying her respects, bidding farewell to the ghosts of her past.

When Tav was done she wandered to the lakefront and sat down on a mossy rock, staring into the sparkling evening sky. The light in her own eyes vanished, leaving a dark cloud looming above her.

Raphael took that as his signal. He quietly removed himself from the cover of the treeline and began his entrance, approaching Tav with a swagger.

“If it isn’t the hero of Baldur’s Gate. My, how far we’ve come! It feels like only yesterday you fell from the skies, tadpole and all, and began your little adventure; slowly scurrying your way to triumph.”

Tav smiled at the sound of Raphael’s voice, turning to greet him. They locked eyes, her expression brightening. That look pierced through Raphael’s defences with such ease, a slight chill crawling up from the base of his spine. He stopped in his tracks, quickly recovering by placing a hand on his hip. It had been too long since they were alone, when he had last gazed into those cursed eyes. Careful now.

“Raphael, always the poet.”

“The little mouse is no longer, but now a ferocious lion. Congratulations are in order.”

Raphael gifted Tav with his most flourishing bow, hoping the gesture would distract from his earlier misstep.

“Now do tell, how does it feel to be the victor? To have saved the world? Is it as the bards have sung?” Raphael rose, taking another step towards Tav.

Tav merely shrugged, her lips quickly returning to a frown.

“Dunno.”

“I would have thought a hero to be more eloquent.”

“I'm still waiting for that ‘ah-ha!’ moment, but if we’re being honest tonight, I’m not really sure what it means to be a hero.”

“You will come to understand eventually. It’s the very nature of your existence.”

Tav remained silent, pulling her eyes away from Raphael. She stared down at her hands, studying her scarred palms.

“May I?” Raphael inquired, gesturing towards the available space on the rock.

Tav nodded and Raphael sat himself beside her, intentionally leaving a minimal amount of space between them.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“There it is,” Tav said, through a faint laugh, “You know, I was expecting you to come sooner.”

“I’ve often found the best persuasions are the ones that aren't forced.”

Tav looked up at Raphael, her eyes moving over every inch of his guise, stopping briefly near his lips. He was close now, so close. To the Crown. To his objectives. And to that damned woman.

“May I see the Crown, please?”

Tav smiled, moving towards Raphael. For a split second, Raphael expected a kiss. It was only natural for mortals to attempt such a distraction in times of distress. Infuriating as it was, he wouldn’t have been opposed to such a notion. Tav instead reached down for her backpack lying in the sand, placing it on her lap.

She pulled open the straps and yanked out the Crown, handling it as if it was but a petty trinket. Raphael suppressed a sigh, he would not let the significance of this moment be soiled due to the mortal’s lack of formality.

“I managed to reforge it, to the best of my abilities, thanks to the Annals of Karsus. Though I haven't tried it on yet to see if it worked.”

“A wise choice.”

Tav held the Crown out towards Raphael, but he raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown floated out of Tav’s grasp, slowly moving towards him. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. It glistened under the moonlight, calling to him. Soon. Very soon. He let the Crown hover, spinning delicately, for a few more seconds.

“Do you need me to remind you of our terms? The deal was that you are to crown me. I would’ve come to you long ago if I could simply put it on myself.”

“Gods. Really, Raphael?”

“Truly.” Raphael donned his notorious smirk in response.

“Fine, are we to do this here then?”

“I couldn't think of a more fitting location.”

Raphael rose, walking towards the middle of the lakefront. He snapped his fingers, and a luscious red silk pillow appeared. He shifted it slightly in the sand and bent a knee, preparing himself for the crowning.

“Come, it is time.”

Tav stood intending to grab the Crown, but before she could reach it, Raphael beckoned it towards him. Tav quickly followed, positioning herself above Raphael. He raised his head to gaze at the magnificent sight in front of him. The moonlight framed Tav perfectly, she was silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing. The Crown and the little mouse, side-by-side, as it was always destined to be.

Raphael took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He absorbed the scents and sounds around him; earthy tones, a hint of wetness, mixed with the fresh woodland air. Faint chirping from various insects called out to him, the leaves rustled slightly against the warm summer wind. His heartbeat intensified, growing more rapid, adding an extra drum beat to the night’s symphony.

“Let’s get on with it then.” Tav spoke.

Raphael opened his eyes and watched Tav grab the Crown, lowering it on top of his head.

When the Crown touched his forehead, it reformed itself to accommodate his size, shrinking to provide a snugger fit. It hissed into place and then in an instant, everything changed.

Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, confusion; every possible emotion tore through his very being. He was ripped in two, three, four… millions of tiny little pieces. His head throbbed with information, so many secrets, so much… he saw and felt everything, what could’ve been, what might come to pass… it was too much. Too much! Too fast!

He fell forwards, his hands digging, ripping through sand. He was alone, always alone, darkness surrounded him. No. There was light, light flooded in from the top of his skull, projecting into every possible direction. He was the light. He was the dark. He was all-encompassing.

Raphael screamed, his voice echoing into the abyss around him. He had never read about such a reaction, in all his years of researching, how could he have missed… could it be because… NO. He will tame this. He will persist. He will…

The sand beneath Raphael turned to liquid as the newfound power continued to surge through his limbs, burning his veins. He tore at his own flesh and bones to rid himself of the agony, but it wouldn’t come to an end.

“Raphael!” He heard a voice shout, such a familiar tune. But who? He couldn’t quite place it.

Raphael erupted, his devilish wings tearing through the skin in his back. There were flames all around him, growing hotter, thicker. His chest melted, his ears ached from the thunderous explosions. Whispers, whispers everywhere. He heard so many, and the cries, the screams. Would they never cease?

Something tore at his head, pulling the Crown away from him. The Crown. NO! He cannot lose it again. Raphael raised his hands attempting to fight back, but he was grasping at nothing. It was over as fast as it had begun. There was now silence.

Raphael’s vision cleared. He was on his back, looking up at the stars. Tav stood over him, holding the Crown in her hands. She eyed him with concern, tears flooding down her cheeks. He raised his own hands, his claws trembling. Raphael tried to think but his mind was vacant, every thought achingly bounced back. His skin burned, bones ached. There were deep lacerations all over his body, his own hands were covered in blood. He gasped, looking at Tav’s body but found no abrasions. He let out a disgruntled sigh. If he had harmed her in his rage, in those brief seconds of failure… would he ever forgive himself?

Tav threw the Crown aside and helped Raphael to his feet. His eyes followed the artefact as it landed on top of the sand, taunting him still. How?

As if reading Raphael’s mind, Withers' voice cut through the silence as he appeared before them.

“Thou hast succeeded but are not yet ready. Take care that thou are not too hasty, thine pursuits will lead to plights.” There was a long pause as Withers continued staring at Raphael, looking straight through him. He met Withers’ expressionless gaze, waiting for him to continue. “The pattern has been woven and all circumstances interlaced are as fate decided.”

Raphael never imagined the consequences of his premature investiture. He was always going to reforge the Crown himself, in his own image. How could he possibly trust a mortal to handle such a relic successfully? But in the heat of the moment, and in the fine print of the very deal he crafted, he had opened himself up to carelessness, becoming the very thing he despised.

His eyes darted to Tav, searching the woman for any excuse against his actions but he could only look at her with veneration. He would not blame her for everything. His vanity, eagerness… his obsession for the Crown and that cursed woman nearly brought him to his untimely demise. Let this be a lesson to Raphael to heed his own warnings. The Devil would need to cool his heels in preparation for the battles looming ahead.

Raphael turned to face Withers, but the curious being had vanished. Instead he hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tav.

She stood next to him, her body trembling. Tav's eyes were fixed on Raphael, still full of worry but there was something else present, another emotion he thought he’d never see from a mortal again.

Tav’s expression sent a sudden stabbing pain through his chest as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. There was another mortal who had once looked at him with the same kindness and understanding. He had buried it deep within his subconscious, but it was rising back to the surface, like a blooming flower. He would NOT allow himself anymore turmoil this evening.

“I owe you my thanks.” Raphael whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“Raphael, I don’t understand, you were nea…”

“If you value your life, you will hold your tongue. There will be no talk of this moment again. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Tav’s eyes widened at his sudden change of tone, but she nodded nonetheless.

“I must return to my House of Hope. For healing and reflection. There is work yet to be done, as you have borne witness to this evening.” Raphael snapped his fingers, a raging portal materialised behind him. “You may join me, if you so wish.”

Raphael extended his arm, welcoming her acceptance.

“Would you consider our deal completed then?” Tav asked, apprehensively.

“You have upheld your end of the agreement, exceptionally well, might I add, bar this evening's hiccup. Now please, let me show you my appreciation.”

A dash of colour appeared on Tav’s cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears. She grabbed her backpack, placing the Crown inside. She swiftly reached for Raphael’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Raphael nodded in acknowledgment and led Tav through the portal.

Indeed, their deal was complete, but Raphael wasn’t done with Tav yet. She would continue to prove a valuable ally and more in the months to come.

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noosayog · 1 year

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[exactly where you wanted me] in which Oikawa asks you to be his fake girlfriend and isn't expecting to be swept off his feet

wc: 2.3k

warnings/content: she/her!reader, minimal angst, mostly fluff, love triangle-ish (as I had forewarned), pining

It’s a Friday morning, when Iwaizumi, accompanied by a very excited looking Oikawa, pulls you aside before homeroom starts.

Suspicious, you think. But if Iwa-chan is on board, it can’t be too bad.

After lots of flowery words and floundering from Oikawa, Iwaizumi explains that Oikawa wants you to pretend to date him to deter his fangirls from crowding practice afterschool in less than two sentences. He uses an additional sentence to say it’s stupid but probably effective.

You’ve been friends with Iwa-chan since your first years in high school and you generally think Oikawa is amusing, so you agree.

There’s not much to fake dating that’s different from real dating. You spend time together and there’s no way Oikawa’s heart stood a chance against getting this much alone time with you. He’s enjoyed being able to hang out with both you and Iwa-chan together before, but now, as your fake boyfriend, he’s allowed to indulge in all of your attention. He likes that.

So in the spirit of playing the role of a good fake boyfriend mixed with some selfish intentions, he asks - begs - you to come to cheer him on at a friendly practice match between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa, because that’s what people who are dating do. You agree.

On the day of the match, there you are, dressed in his spare turquoise blue jersey. He doesn’t realize he’s grinning like a maniac until Iwa-chan smacks him upside the head to tell him to start warming up.

He’s still having trouble focusing when he notices you making your way down to the court. Instead of going straight to him, though, he watches you make your way to the Shiratorizawa side of the court. He’s about to stop you, out of concern that straight-arrow Ushiwaka would reprimand you for interrupting warm-ups, but to his surprise (horror), Ushijima meets you in the middle and starts chatting with you.

Okay, what’s going on here? Is Ushiwaka… trying to flirt with you?

Rationally, he knows it’s unlikely. Chronically, Oikawa is an overreactor and overthinker.

So he storms up to you and wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the enemy captain. He hides your entire frame behind his and puffs his chest up, arms crossed defensively.

“Ushijima,” he greets with false bravado. “Do you need something with my girlfriend?”

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says in his calm voice, and nothing else.

Nothing else? Okay, he was used to carrying the conversation with this brick wall of a man anyway. “Ready to lose today?”

Ushijima’s head cocks to the side, “Who, me?”

Oikawa’s eyes twitch. “Do you see anyone else here? There’s no way I’d lose with my girlfriend cheering me on.”

Ushijima’s eyebrows raise. “Girlfriend?” he questions, looking at you.

“Yes,” Oikawa asserts. He doesn’t like the look Ushijima is giving you. Like he knows something, knows you.

“Wakatoshi,” you start.

First name basis?

Oikawa’s uncomprehending but there’s no time for explanations because Coach Washijo is calling Ushijima and Iwaizumi is calling him. You give both him and Ushijima a little wave and say nothing else as you return to the stands.

Seijoh wins with Ushiwaka sitting out for 2 of the 3 sets played. You had cheered for him as promised. After the match, his teammates give him a hard smack in the back, Iwa-chan adding a glare and warning to stay focused regardless of official or practice match next time.

As you’ve been doing every evening since you started fake dating, you wait for Oikawa outside of the gym to walk home together. However, unlike any other day, Oikawa does not wound his arm around your shoulder nor does he clasp his hands in yours. He puts a respectable 2-feet distance between the two of you. Adrenaline from the game subsiding, thoughts of you and Ushijima surface again.

“Oikawa?” you peer at him. “What’s wrong?”

“What is your relationship with Ushiwaka?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. “You call him by his first name.” So much for that.

“Wakatoshi is a friend I grew up with. My parents are friends with his.” You’re casual, as if there is nothing more to the story.

“And he always lets you interrupt his warm ups to talk to him?” his voice heavy with implication.

Your quick replies come to a halt. The pause is heavy and awkward, but this time, when you respond, you meet his eyes evenly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oikawa shrinks at your narrowed eyes. “Nothing,” he mumbles. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer anyway. “Thanks for coming today,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you on Monday then.”

You allow him to lean in and give you your usual peck that comes with any goodbye with Oikawa, today on the cheek. “Bye, Oikawa.”

On Monday, he updates Iwaizumi with all the details. Predictably, Iwa-chan slaps the back of his head.

“Oww! Why did you do that?”

“Why does who she’s friends with matter to you?” Iwaizumi starts walking away but pauses to crane his head back to level Oikawa with a stare. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question. Figure it out yourself, idiot.”

Oikawa’s left rubbing the back of his head.

Mattsun and Makki are next.

“Well, just think about it,” Makki says.

“Why does it bother you so much that Ushiwaka is involved with her?” Mattsun finishes.

“Well, she’s my-”

“Fake girlfriend.” Mattsun interrupts.

“Fake.” Makki echoes.

“Fake.” Mattsun nods.

Oikawa reminisces about the first time you called him Toru. It had been the first time the two of you had walked home together after you had started fake dating and Oikawa had thought that you would start calling him Toru all the time.

You didn’t. Even though you call Ushijima by his first name.

Contrary to Iwa-chan’s constant labeling, Oikawa isn’t an idiot. He knows that this jealousy and greed for more of you – your time, your attention, your affection – all point to one thing. He is self-diagnosing lovesickness. He has a crush on you.

Logical next steps would be for Oikawa to take full advantage of all the alone time he gets to spend with you as your fake boyfriend, sweep you off your feet, seduce you, the works. Not that he hasn’t already been doing that.

Luckily, as your fake boyfriend, a big perk is that it’s literally in Oikawa’s job description to scare potential suitors away. Not that it was hard with how popular and good-looking he is, if he does say so himself.

However, tricking your childhood friend proved more difficult than he had hoped. In fact, it seemed the two of you didn’t have to, because the next time he sees you and Ushijima, somehow your childhood friend seems to already know.

It’s later that night when Oikawa decides he wants to go on a late night convenience store run for some ice cream with you. You had responded, jokingly, “Fake boyfriends don’t ask me out on dates.”

“Who said it was a date?”

You laughed and agreed.

So he meets you at your front door, dreaming of skipping to the store, swinging hands with you, and looking forward to an ice-cream induced sugar rush. Those dreams are quickly dashed when your front door swings open with a guilty looking you.

“I’m sorry, Oikawa,” you start but before you can elaborate, your front door opens again to reveal Ushijima. You turn your head back and nod lightly in Ushijima’s direction, as if that explains the situation.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima greets, his usual stoic mask unchanging.

Oikawa turns his cheek at him and ignores the greeting. He leans in conspiratorially with a hand over his palm and whispers obnoxiously, “what’s he doing here?”

You slap his hand away and turn to Ushijima. “Wakatoshi, I don’t need a chaperone. You can just go home.”

“Your parents asked me to accompany you to the store if you wanted to go.”

“Oikawa can take me.”

“Your parents asked me,” he says simply.

You apologize to Oikawa for Ushijima’s bullheadedness, and he knows you intend to assuage him, but all he can think about is why on earth are you apologizing for Ushijima? But all he does is nod and make towards the convenience store. When you fall into step with him, he does not skip with you and swing your hands. He also doesn't think he's going to be feeling any sort of sugar rush anymore, mood soured.

Oikawa can’t help but drop a comment as the three of you are walking home. “Kind of insensitive of you to be third-wheeling a date, don’t you think?”

Ushijima’s eyes flip over to you. “I didn’t realize you needed to be on the job during the weekends too.”

Oikawa’s smile drops. On the job? He turns around to face you, watching your face carefully as you flash Ushijima a sheepish smile, eyes flickering between the two captains.

“Don’t call it a job, Wakatoshi.”

Oikawa’s stomach twists when he hears you call him by his first name again.

Ushijima ignores your comment and turns to Oikawa. “I’ll walk her home. You can go home.”

You shake your head at him. “No, Wakatoshi. Oikawa will walk me home. I’ll see you later.”

Surprisingly, Ushijima concedes and listens to you. “Bye, Wakatoshi,” you say.

The two of you watch Ushijima’s back recede further and further and don’t say anything even when he’s long gone. You start walking in the direction of your home, but Oikawa takes hold of your wrist.

“You told him?”

“Who? Told what?”

Oikawa levels you with a hard look that you’re not used to.

“No!” you deny. You’re avoiding eye contact.

“Then how does he know?” He can’t help the accusatory tone slipping into his voice. He’s scared that if he isn’t on the offensive, he’ll let the hurt slip out.

“Well, I… You know I’m a bad liar! He just… found out!”

You wait, maybe for Oikawa to laugh it off and tell you it’s okay as he normally would, but he doesn’t.

“It’ll be okay,” you explain. “Wakatoshi doesn’t go to our school and even if he does, he would never talk about other people's problems.”

There’s a lot Oikawa wants to ask. Like why you’re vouching for him, why you call him Wakatoshi, when he’s just “Oikawa.” But instead, he just nods robotically and you seem relieved that he doesn’t seem mad. When you arrive at your front door, Oikawa stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits for you to go. You don’t, but he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s the only one feeling this thick tension and awkwardness in the silence. He opts for a quick goodbye but before he can walk off, you grab his arm and yank him back.

“Oikawa,” you say.

“What? You might as well have pulled my whole arm off! I need my arms, you know,” he jokes.

“Toru.” Your eyes are steady looking at him. “What’s wrong?”

Oikawa’s smile drops and he breaks eye contact first. He can only look at the floor while he thinks about what he can say.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable, but I’m your friend right? We may not be really dating, but I still want to be there for you if you’re having a hard time.”

Silence.

“Is it Wakatoshi? I know you don’t like him but-”

“Do you?”

You blink. “Do I what?”

“Do you like him?”

“No!” you exclaim, taken aback. “Where did that come from?”

“You call him by his first name.”

“Well, yes. We’ve known each other since we were children, though! There’s no special meaning.”

Deep breath.

“So when you call me by my first name, is there special meaning? We’re not childhood friends.”

Your eyes widen like saucers and you’re the first to break eye contact, face to the floor.

There’s a long pause and he feels stupid for even asking, for hoping. Oikawa sighs and takes a gaping step back, away from you. “Forget I said anything.”

“What if it did,” you whisper. So quietly, Oikawa almost missed it. And he would’ve, if he isn’t in a constant state of hanging onto every word you say, every sign you give.

You meet his eyes, and repeat, “what if it does?”

Oikawa isn’t processing this information quick enough, but he can already feel his hopes welling up to fill his chest. He’s so scared that he might be misreading the situation, fitting meaning into your words. “When I say special meaning, it means special.” He says dumbly. He emphasizes the word special, in hopes that you would understand the entire slew of suppressed feelings in that one word.

“I do understand,” you say simply.

It was a feeling akin to when it was simultaneously his service point and match point. The simplicity in which you delivered your meaning left no choice but to flood his chest with hope. He doesn’t even realize that he has a massive smile plastered on until you’re mirroring his expression. He waits no longer in stepping into your space, fingers intertwining with yours. He gives you your usual parting kiss, on the forehead, and lingers a few moments longer.

“Good night, then, girlfriend.” Even if you can’t see his face because of how close he is to you, he makes sure you can feel the curve of his grin and every word whispered against your temple.

He’s feeling good, satisfied, as he turns around to make his own way home (to squeal and roll around in glee in private), when you grab his arm once again.

Shameless, he gloats, “still haven’t had enough? I’m happy to-”

In true fashion, you humble him by pressing your lips against his, effectively shutting him up and wiping the smirk off his face. When you pull away, he chases your lips, eyes still closed. You giggle, give him one more gentle peck, and skip inside, leaving him there, red as a tomato.

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short-honey-badger · 3 months

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Peppermint Tea 21 - Lavender 4

This is a long one! I wanted a way for Shanks and Mihawk to come together, and what better way to do that is a nice sick fic!

Shanks is a flirt and both are possessive bastards. They worry about their little treasure. Took some creative liberties with Haki btw! hope you enjoy!

No warnings today!

Masterlist

Hank watches his human lay still and silent in her bed. His nose twitches when a draft comes by and tickles his nose, and a sneeze follows when his little brother comes back and smacks him in the nose. Hank grumbles at the fluffball, but at least Sukuna doesn’t use his claws this time. The cat jumps to the chair that Hank lays under, golden eyes watching his human too.

Neither animal understands what had gotten into their human. She had yet to get up and start the day like usual, instead, she still sleeps. Hank whines when his nose picks up the scent of something that doesn’t belong on his human, and he shuffles out from under his chair to stand by the bed. Sukuna joins him, jumping from the chair to come to a stop by their person’s head. Hank jumps up, nosing forward and huffing when he picks up that same smell.

It’s hot and rancid, and the two of them nearly jump a foot into the air when you suddenly groan and roll over, eyes cracking open to the sight of two concerned brothers.

“Hello children,” You green softly and wince at the soreness of your throat. You snake an arm out from under the covers, shivering when the cooler air of the room floods the blanket cocoon you’ve made around yourself. You feel awful, and you wonder what had changed so suddenly for you to feel this way. You frown as you think. No not suddenly. You’ve not been feeling yourself for a couple of days now. More tired than usual, a constant chill that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried, and you dearly wished that Mihawk and his overheated body were here to help warm you up.

Sukuna darts forward to press his forehead into your open palm, purring up a storm as his human gently scratches between his ears just the way he likes. Hank shoves him when he heaves the rest of his huge body up, and Sukuna sends the mutt a sharp glare for the disrespect. Their antics bring a giggle out of you, however, so the cat isn’t too upset about it.

“Gimmie a second and I’ll get up. Not like you’re starving or anything, you gluttons,” You grumble good-naturedly and force yourself to sit up.

Hank surprises you by butting his big head in your chest and knocking you back down. It takes the wind out of you, and you send a half-hearted glare at the big lug, “Hey. What was that about?”

The shaggy dog whines, not wanting his human up in fear of spreading the hot, sick scent that he can still smell. You break easily when Sukuna teams up with him and steps on your chest, making a round of biscuits and then lying down. You shove one hand into his fluffy orange fur and then the other into Hank’s grey, tangled locks. You have half a thought of brushing him soon before your stuffy brain is making you go back to sleep.

Sukuna shares a look with his older brother when a soft wheeze spills out of your chest. This is not good. Their human was sick and the other humans who liked to show up were not here, and probably would not be back for a while. The dark-haired one that smelled like steel and old books had left only a week ago.

It’s hours later that you wake again, and luckily, Hank allows you to get up when you express the need to go to the bathroom. He knows what that word means, but still diligently followed after you when you got out of bed because he is a good boy. Sukuna flees to the kitchen, selfish enough to beg for food now that his human is out of bed for now.

You wash your face after doing your business and look at yourself in the mirror. You look like utter shit, face flushed and skin pale as a ghost from whatever sickness that has a hold of you. You sniff and blow your nose a couple of times, hurting your throat even more each time. A cup of tea sounds like a grand idea, so you shuffle to the kitchen and put on the kettle. You choose a nice chamomile and load the cup up with the honey that Dracule had gifted you not too long ago. A lemon slice is next, another gift, though the lemon tree had come from Shanks on his third visit to your island.

Speaking of the redhead, it’s been a while since you’ve seen the other man. You assume that his Emperor business is keeping him busy, but you still kinda miss the older man. He always knew how to make you laugh. Gullt curls in you at the thought, but you shove it away and remember the talk that you and Dracule had on his last visit.

Mihawk had assured you several times that he and Shanks had come to some sort of agreement. They would more or less stay out of one another business unless there was a shared concern about your well-being. Dracule had basically given you his permission to seek comfort and companionship in Shanks when the warlord could not be there.

You still didn’t really know what to think of the idea that Shanks and Mihawk had spoken about you while you weren’t there, and you know that neither of them had come completely clean about whatever deal they had going on.

What you did know was that something fundamental had changed between the two men, but honestly, you didn’t much care about all the details. If they were happy, then you were happy. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself if either man stopped coming to your island, and just the thought of being alone like that makes agony tighten around your heart. You’ve known Mihawk for over a year now, and the reclusive man had slowly opened up to you during that time. He was a friend, a lover, a protector, and you loved him.

Of course, you haven’t told him yet, you’re not so much an idiot to bring the L word into the equation, not when the very notion made fear strike through you like lightning. You wouldn’t ruin what you have going on with him, not unless he said those three words first. You just couldn’t risk being that lonely again.

And Shanks? That mischievous man had wiggled his way into your daily thoughts and heart, fast. His easygoing attitude is so different from Mihawk's, but no less enjoyable to be around.

A loud meow right in your ear has you jerking out of your thoughts. Sukuna stands on the counter, big golden eyes narrowed as he meows loud enough for it to echo in the house. You wave him away and apologize for not being fast enough to meet his majesty’s needs.

You feed Sukuna his usual dish and a little extra for being patient with you this morning and then go outside to do the same for Hank. He whines when you step outside, but his food easily distracts him so that you can go check on Neal and the three chickens. You really need to give them names, you feel bad that it’s been this long.

Neal bleats a greeting when he catches sight of his human, and you laugh when he digs into your loose dress for any snacks to be found. You gently steer his the other way, fixing up his feed and water before leaving them to it. You stoke your fireplace and settle in on the couch with a new cup of tea, blankets bundled high around you.

You still feel awful, and a deep ache has settled in the middle of your back, but the satisfaction of doing something keeps any bad thoughts away. Sukuna and Hank find their way back to your side whenever they finish, bullying you into lying down so that they can cuddle with you on the couch. It works, for you are back to sleep in no time, dead to the world.

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

Three days later, It’s Neal who hears the sound of loud laughter and the soft thuds of crates hitting the sand down at the beach. He waits until he can see a familiar silhouette trudging up the footpath to his home, hoofs stomping when he realizes that it’s the red-haired one, and not the one with the tasty-looking hat. Neal bleats a warning, loud enough that it gets the attention of Hank who comes bounding out the door.

Shanks grins when Hank runs to meet him, the shaggy dog jumping up to place his paws on his chest and whining in his face, “Hey, big guy. You seem excited to see me.”

He pets the dog for half a second before Hank jumps down and trots into the cottage. He turns and whines again at Shanks, big eyes demanding the other man to hurry up. Shanks frowns and picks up his pace, entering the cottage with a frown when he notices that you are not up and about like usual. It was midday, but the house was silent as a grave.

The emperor winds his way through the house, following Hank until he reaches your bedroom. He doesn’t hesitate to step inside, and his chest seizes when he sees the pitiful bundle of blankets and pillows that lie on the bed. He can hardly see you, only your hair making your whereabouts known in the mess on the bed. Hank whines at his feet, paws tip-tapping on the floor in his distress.

“How long has she been this way buddy?” Shanks asks out loud and doesn’t receive an answer, not that he was expecting to. He steps to the side of the bed, knee sliding on the mattress as he reaches over and pulls the blanket closest to your face down.

“Babygirl?” Shanks murmurs and slides his hand along your jaw, hissing when he finds your skin literally ice cold. His hand throbs when he pulls away and he wipes the frost off on his pants leg. Gods, no wonder you were bundled up like you were.

You groan when he pulls away, your body seeking any amount of warmth and your voice is nothing but a croak when you speak, “Who?”

Shanks slides his hand back to your cheek, uncaring of the cold when he hears how loopy you sound. He wonders if this is how your devil fruit is reacting to you having a fever. Freezing you to the bone instead of warming you. Mihawk would know how to answer that better than he could.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s Shanks. Think you can tell me what’s wrong?” Shanks shifted more onto the bed, crowding you close in hopes that he could warm you up a little, “You’re freezing, way more than usual, Baby.”

“Dunno. Thought it was a cold, “ You slowly slur as you focus on the handsome man above you. You grin up at him, chest losing one kind of ache now that one of them is here, “Shanks, how was your trip?”

Shanks scoffs at you, eyes rolling skyward as worry curdles tight in his stomach. How could you be asking him questions like that when you looked like a zombie come to life, “It was fine, silly. Don’t worry about that right now. Tell me what I can do to help you get better.”

Before you can speak, a shiver wracks your body so hard that it leaves your body shivering, teeth chattering and frost creeping up your neck. Shanks jerks his hand back before the dangerous frost can touch him, anxiety curling up when he spots the fear lingering in your eyes. You swallow and curl further in your blanket next, “I don’t know, Shanks. I- I don’t have any medicine. I didn’t think that someone like me could get sick!”

You don’t have any books on devil fruit users, had no idea how to deal with how your body works sometimes even though you’ve had this horrible power since before you came to this island. You’d always resented the devil fruit inside of you, having never been taught how to properly use your logia abilities.

Shanks licks his lips. He was out of his depth here. None of his crew had a devil fruit. They’d fought plenty of men and women on the grand line who used them, but Shanks never had the responsibility to know any more than he needed to know about them.

“That’s alright, Babygirl. We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Shanks assured you and went to rise off the bed only for your hand to shoot out and wrap around his wrist. He looks at you and sees the fever lingering in your eyes, so he changes tactics and shifts to lay down on his side, curling you against his chest, and tossing his arm over your waist to pull you in close. You snuggle close, grateful for the heat that slowly seeps past your blankets.

Shanks thinks quickly for a solution. He would need to move later, go check on his crew, and see if his crew’s doctor could help with any of this. If that didn’t work then the redhead would call the one person would would most likely know what to do, and Shanks couldn’t help the excitement that erupted at the thought of having his two treasures in the same room together. Despite the situation, it was a chance that Shanks couldn’t pass up.

He wanted to see how the two of you looked curled up together. Wanted to watch the sweet way Mihawk would kiss you and how you would open up to him in kind.

Turns out that Shanks wouldn’t have to go anywhere, for Benn came to check up on him when he didn’t return after so long. He knocked on the doorframe before peeking his head inside after Shanks told them it was fine.

Benn took one look at your pitiful state and then left to go grab Hongo. The doctor of the crew was able to suggest the proper things than most medical professionals could for what looked like the common cold gone bad, but even he became stumped when it came to the problem of her devil fruit.

“In a way, It’s preventing her fever from getting too bad, internally at least, but it's also inhibiting the growth of any fresh, healthy cells and bacteria that are trying to get rid of the virus. She needs medicine Captain, and I doubt that I’d be stocked up with what she needs.”

Shanks sighs heavily from where he sits on your bed, hand behind him to keep hold of your own. You had refused to let go of him, and Shanks didn’t have it in him to leave your side.

“Bring me my transponder, I need to make a call,” Shanks ordered and Benn left to go find the snail as Hongo packed up his medical bag.

“Keep her hydrated captain. She needs food too, nothing too solid or hard on her stomach,” Hongo advised and then he was gone too.

Now alone, Shanks rolls back over, looking down at your scrunched face even in sleep. He smiles and leans down, balanced on his knees so that he can place a quick kiss on your brow, “Don’t worry, Baby. We’ve got you. You’ll be better soon.”

Benn leaves again when he brings Shanks the snail, though he reminds his friend to call if he needs anything. Shanks had given him a grateful nod and then focused on the transponder, licking his lips as he dialed the number he’d never forgotten.

Ca-Lick

“There aren’t many people who know this number, who is this?” Dracule sounds furious, and Shanks can hear the sound of shouting and battle in the background, “This better be good.”

The Emperor takes the dive, “Mihawk, it’s Shanks.”

The silence on the other end, at least from Dracule, is deafening. It’s only been a month or so since Mihawk had tracked the other man down. He can feel the panic on the other side, and quickly continues, “It’s _, She’s sick, Mihawk, and we don’t have the kind of medicine that she needs.”

Shanks hears a sudden explosion and then the probable death of whoever it was that Dracule had been fighting. Arousal swirls inappropriately when he listens to Mihawk wields Yoru, and Shanks longs for a time before when he could watch Dracule fight whenever he wanted. The sounds of battle fade away after a moment, and when the warlord speaks next, Shanks can hear the worry lacing every word.

“What do you mean she’s sick? What is wrong with her?” Mihawk had left your island a week and a half ago, and you had seemed just fine then, so what had happened?

Shanks quickly explains the problem, and Dracule wracks his brain for a solution, though one seems unlikely until Shanks mentions that the devil fruit is the problem. He focuses on that, licking his lips as he debates with himself.

Haki users like Shanks and himself were logia users' worst nightmare since haki could bypass their powers. Could Shanks negate yours long enough that normal medicine and treatment could work? But that could take days to work, especially with just one of them, and Mihawk refused to let someone else from Redhair’s crew get that close to you. Garp would be pissed that he was leaving his assignment half-finished, but Mihawk could care less. His angel and Shanks needed him.

“Dracule? Is everything okay?” Shanks’ voice brings him back to the present and Drcule straightens up even if the redhead couldn’t see him. He didn’t like how his body had warmed up at the concern he could hear swimming in the other man’s tone.

“Fine, Shanks. I have an idea.” He informs the redhead then hears Shanks shuffle on the other side of the phone, and realizes that he had to be near you, “Let me speak with her.”

The emperor shifts so that you are comfortably lying across his chest and can be closer to the transponder snail. You open blurry eyes and sniff harshly, “Mihawk?”

“There’s my angel,” Dracule coos over the phone, tone soft and full of affection for the young woman, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, but Shanks helps,” Comes your blunt reply and Mihawk can’t help the snort of laughter that leaves him. He still feels that jealous sting at knowing the redhead is the one holding you, but it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. Damn, Shanks and his ability to get into people’s good graces, his included.

“Then I am glad he is there for once,” Mihawk quips dryly and fixes his hat, “I’m going to have Shanks try something, Darling. He’s going to try and coat your body in haki. If that works, then your devil fruit shouldn’t be a problem. That way, your immune system can fight off any infection, and you’ll start feeling better.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” You slur, already half asleep by the time he has finished his explanation. Thankfully, you have a redhead who has taken his duty as a caregiver very seriously.

“This is why I called you, Dracule. You always know what to do,” Shanks praises quietly, voice laced with sincerity. The other man is quiet on the other end, but Shanks doesn’t mind, it just means that he’d surprised him.

“Just do what I said, you fool,” Mihawk grumbles quietly, “Have Hongo come back and give her some medicine, whatever you have in stock should work once her body is coated. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The smile on Shanks’ face is nothing but fond, and he nods even though Mihawk can’t see, “Sure. Be safe, We’ll be waiting for you.”

You call a weak goodbye to Dracule, lucid enough to hear that he is coming back, and then you are gone again, body weak and exhausted from fighting off the growing virus. Shanks curls around you, focusing on weaving his haki over your body until you are completely coated by his will.

Shanks doesn’t know how to describe the way it feels to have someone so intimately twined within his will. He can feel everything, every twitch of a muscle, every shallow breath you take. It’s almost overwhelming. However, it seems to be working.

The frost that has been ever-present has slowly begun to melt away, leaving the blankets damp and uncomfortable, but Shanks feels victorious. He calls for Hongo, and the doctor is back in the cottage in a flash and tells his captain that whatever he is doing, he needs to keep it up. Shanks easily nods, curling around you and focusing on keeping his haki a consistent stream to regulate your body. It’s harder than it looks, and Shanks is very glad that Mihawk is coming.

----------

You are still loopy and out of it when Dracule arrives two days later, pushing his ship as hard as he can and catching every tailwind he can navigate to speed up the process. Even though your body had regulated itself into something more human than logia, the process of recovery was slow going. The Red Haired crew greets the warlord when he makes landfall, but Mihawk is in too much of a hurry to return the greeting.

He darts up the path and into his home, stopping long enough to toss his boots, hat, and coat off, and then Mihawk is creaking open your bedroom door, ringed eyes landing on the bed. What he seems makes him choke up, but in a way he hadn’t expected.

It’s not anger that he feels upon seeing you curled up in bed with Shanks, blankets tangled around both of you as the redhead holds you to his chest. Your face is pressed into his chest, mouth open in a soft snore that has Mihawk’s lips curling at the sides. Shanks turns his face just enough to catch sight of the older man and send him a weary grin, and it definitely isn’t jealousy that Mihawk feels. No, it is satisfaction, at seeing the two people he cared for most in this world curled up together in the too-small bed.

Dracule shuffles to the other side of the bed and lays on his side, boxing you in between the two men. He can feel the way Shanks’ haki coats you and his own reaches out to glide along the redheads, curling protectively around you and Shanks both. He jumps when he feels a hand land on his waist and glances over you to see Shanks grinning, that familiar teasing look in his eye.

You wake between them before Mihawk can puff up about the sudden invasion of space, and his attention is quickly drawn to you. You yawn, and then roll, opening your eyes to see another body beside you that isn’t Shanks. A blush floods your face when you realize that Mihawk is there, his magma-like body pressed close to your own.

You latch onto him, arms coming up to wind around his neck as you bury your face in his neck. Mihawk tightens his grip on you, kissing your brow as you sniffle into his chest and ramble about how much you missed him. He glances up and catches Shanks watching, a fond, though possessive look in his dark eyes.

“Thank you for looking after her,” Mihawk whispers once you’ve quieted down. It pains him to admit it, but you would have been so much worse off if Shanks had never shown up.

“Don’t thank me for something I wanted to do, Baby,” Shanks says and pulls at Mihawk from where his hand still rests on his side. The older man looks exhausted, and Shanks knows that the warlord pushed himself since the phone call, “Sleep, Mihawk. I’ve got you.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax

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ofallthingsnasty · 4 months

Note

Crocodile takes his fat basement wife shopping for clothes and is disappointed and irritated that none of the stores have anything in her size

Cue custom made wardrobe where everything fits her perfectly (that is the dream)

Or maybe he gives her a bunch of magazine catalogues and tells her to list down what outfits she likes. And his poor soggy wife obeys but thinks the whole time “this is cute but it won’t fit me” or “I’d be too scared to wear this in public but I’d like to imagine it”

She doesn’t think much of it but a few weeks later every single item is in her wardrobe and to her size (with a few outfits that he wants her in thrown in)

Oh goodness, stop, that's too cute. Are you trying to kill me? 😭 I can see him taking you shopping and getting furious when they don’t have anything in your size, like what kind of retailer is this supposed to be? Ridiculous - but that would happen if he were normal about you. And he really isn’t, haha. When it comes to Crocodile, basement really means basement - you’re a liability, a weakness. Not something other people need to know about.

tw.yandere, fem + fat reader, basement wivery

He practically slaps those catalogues down and says that you can get the whole thing if you so wish - but pick something, storms off and doesn’t even wait for an answer. It’s a treat, a reward - and those are rare coming from him, especially when it concerns your appearance. You have very little say in what clothes he puts you in, everything down to your socks is picked out for you. It’s important to him that you two match, even if no one except for him (and occasionally Ms. All Sunday) gets to see you. It’s all about his ego and entertainment and power. So you being allowed to pick out something you like? You must have been on exceptionally good behavior for that to happen. It’s just a shame that the models in the magazines don’t look like you at all, even if they have the clothes in your size. You feel more and more tense the longer you skim through the little booklets - nervous because you’re sure nothing is going to fit you well enough and anxious to voice those same concerns to him. He’ll just call you ungrateful and rip the catalogues from your hands again, maybe even punish you for being so selfish and spoiled, and that’s the last thing you want. You’re almost back to crying when you’re done building a million what-ifs and scenarios in your mind, it’s that overwhelming. It’s hard not to feel rushed between him waiting on you to drop the papers back into his lap and being insecure about your body. When you finally swallow down that big lump in your throat and simply circle some of the things you think are safe bets, he’s already impatiently chewing his cigar at his desk. So when he makes a grand show of presenting with your picks some weeks later, you’re going to be more than surprised to find some more… risqué pieces among them, things you definitely didn’t mark. And no matter how much your ears burn or how shaky you get, he’ll have you model every single item. He doesn’t care that you’re embarrassed, he gave you a gift. And you better honor that - not only by showing him just how snug some pieces are, but also by giving him a nice and proper thank you. See, he’s generous - you don’t have to ride him for it (although he certainly wouldn’t say no to that), some words of gratitude and a kiss on the cheek are enough.

Play pretend with him, even for a little while, let him be your husband and he can be so, so good to you.

#idk something about that man wanting something soft and genuine while continuing his weird power play makes my brain itch #never a dull moment. although i think that he calms down considerably after marineford. but alabasta-era crocodile? a menace #/crocodile #/one piece #yandere one piece #tw.yandere #fat reader #chubby reader

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lewmagoo · 2 years

Text

ocean of noise | b. bradshaw

description: in which bradley bradshaw is terrified to allow himself to love and be loved

warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of parental death, bradley has commitment issues and unpacked trauma, smut, unprotected piv sex, overstimulation, squirting

featured characters: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x nondescript f!reader (third person pov), pete “maverick” mitchell (a little bit of dad!mav)

notes: partially inspired by ocean of noise - arcade fire

He left in the wee hours of the morning, before the sun had risen, and before her eyes were open.

He slipped out of bed as she slept peacefully, undisturbed by his movement. And as he quietly pulled on his clothes, he was filled with an odd feeling. A hollowness that ballooned within his chest.

Later, he’d come to realize that that feeling was regret. But for now, all he knew was that he had to get out. Had to sneak out into the dark morning before the sun even broke upon the horizon, because he knew that if he stayed, his thoughts would run away from him, and he’d be forced to face a cold, hard truth.

And the cold, hard truth was that he was in love with her. Painfully, irrevocably in love. That was something that Bradley Bradshaw couldn’t come to terms with.

So, he ran. Just like he always did.

As he left her house that morning, he sought peace at the beach. Usually, listening to the waves beat upon the shore calmed him.

But not this morning. As he stood in the sand, looking out over the ocean, a storm raged within him.

Flashes of her illuminated his mind. Bits and pieces of the night before. Her body pressed against his own. Her soft, breathless moans. Her face twisted in pleasure as he drove himself inside her over and over again.

And then, there were the words she said as she was enraptured with pleasure. “I love you.”

He was stuck on those words. Had she really meant them? Or had she just said them in the throes of bliss? There was a part of himself that knew she had meant what she said. But he went back and forth over it, at war with himself.

Suddenly, the ocean was no longer a place of peace and refuge from the outside world. It was an ocean of violence. Of noise. He couldn’t shut off the constant replay in his head, like someone kept hitting the rewind button as a sick joke.

He kept trying to come up with reasons as to why he didn’t feel the same. Why he couldn’t feel the same. Reasons such as his profession being dangerous, or keeping him away for long periods of time.

But in his heart of hearts, Bradley knew they were mere excuses. He was lying to himself. Lying to her. The truth was, he did feel the same way. He loved her so much it made him ache down to his very bones. But he was terrified. Terrified to commit, for fear of losing her, and of leaving her behind, should the sky claim his life.

Upon his reflections there on the beach, he realized what a fool he was. This had all started as a mere one-night stand. But he was selfish, and he wanted more. So did she. They kept finding themselves tangled in the sheets, bodies wrapped around one another. It was as if they couldn’t get enough of each other.

It was only sex. That’s what Bradley kept telling himself. But at some point, he’d begun to catch feelings. He tried to deny them. Tried to force them down like they were bitter pills to swallow.

Except, those feelings weren’t bitter. They were sticky sweet like honey and went down just as easily.

The thing was, he’d never allotted something like this in the plan that he called life. Falling in love wasn’t in the cards for him. It was better that way. He wouldn’t leave behind a widow like his father had.

But then he met her. Maybe it was foolish to claim it was love at first sight, but for him, it was. He adored her from the moment he saw her, and as it turned out, she would be his undoing.

He felt himself coming unraveled like a spool of thread, and even though she was still fast asleep in her bed, and he was standing knee-deep in the ocean, he was still connected to her, an endless length of red yarn keeping them tethered to one another despite being miles apart.

He’d tried to cut that strand. Tried to saw at it with a knife and sever the connection they shared. But he simply couldn’t work up the nerve. How could he remove her from his life when she was the one thing that made it worth living?

These thoughts ravaged his mind as he stared out at the rising sun, the surf lapping at his legs, threatening to pull him in. He knew she was probably waking up now. She’d find herself in an empty bed, and the still silence of the house would tell her that he was gone. And perhaps she’d realize that this time, he didn’t intend to come back.

It seemed cruel to do such a thing. To walk out of her life without a trace. Could he really go through with it? Could he walk away from the woman he loved and never look back?

“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” he whispered into the dawn. He wondered what Nick Bradshaw would say if he was still alive. Would he tell him to walk away before it was too late? Or would he knock some sense into him and encourage him to go after the girl?

Bradley didn’t get a verbal answer, of course. But he did go to someone who would give him one. That’s how he found himself on Pete Mitchell’s doorstep that morning, weight shifting from foot to foot as he waited for the man to come to the door.

It was still early, before either of them had to be on base. It gave ample time for them to talk. And talk, they would.

When Maverick answered the door, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the distraught Bradshaw kid on his doorstep. “Bradley,” he said, taking in his disheveled appearance. Windswept hair, haphazardly thrown on clothing, and a faraway look in his eyes.

“Mav, I…can we talk? I need some advice.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting Bradley to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Nonetheless, the older man stepped aside. “Uh, sure, sure. Come on in.” As they both retreated inside, he motioned to the coffee pot on the counter. “I was just making some coffee, feel free to have a cup.”

Bradley obliged, pouring himself a cup before Pete motioned for him to follow him out to the hangar. They were both quiet as they walked, and once they were seated, Pete leaned forward, eyeing the man that looked so much like his two dearest friends.

He felt out of his element at that moment. Advice? What kind of advice? While he loved Bradley, he wasn’t sure that he was fit to give fatherly advice. The two had only just repaired their relationship a few weeks ago, and they were still navigating through years of emotional baggage that weighed heavily on them both.

However, it was clear that Bradley trusted him. Or, rather, maybe he just didn’t have anyone else to turn to and Pete was his last resort. Either way, the seasoned aviator would try his best to help the kid out.

Bradley leaned forward, his eyes downcast as he gathered his thoughts. “I met a girl,” he murmured, “and she’s…she’s everything I could ever want or need. She gets where I’m coming from, I don’t have to explain myself to her. I know it’s impossible for anyone to be perfect, but she’s damn near it.”

Pete took a sip of his coffee. “Sounds like she’s a keeper,” he mused, unsure of where the kid was going with this.

“That’s the problem. I think I’m in love with her, Mav.”

That puzzled him. His brows pulled together, and he cocked his head to the side. “I’m a little lost. How is that a problem?”

“Because I can’t fall in love! I can’t commit to someone, not when history could repeat itself. I don’t want to leave behind a widow like my dad did. I can’t do that to her.”

It made sense to Pete then, and realization softened his features. He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. “I was involved with Penny years ago,” he began, “but I let her slip through my fingers. I had something great going with her, but I was too stupid to see it until it was too late. By some miracle, the universe gave me a second chance with her. But not everyone gets that lucky. If you’ve found something good with this girl, don’t let her go. This might be the only chance you get with her.”

“But what if I let her in, and then I end up getting killed on the job? I saw what it did to my mom. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Pete’s eyes were gentle as he regarded the younger man. “You can’t live your life in fear. I get why you’re scared. It makes sense. But you can’t let it keep you from enjoying yourself. You deserve to be happy, kid. You deserve a wife and a family and a stable, happy life. I’d hate to see you miss out on that.”

“I want that life. More than anything, I want it.” By admitting that, Bradley was finally being honest with himself.

“Then go after it. There’s no sense basing life on what-ifs. Yeah, you could very well die while on duty, but the thing is, there are no guarantees. I mean, God forbid, you could be killed in a car accident on your way home today. Tomorrow isn’t promised. You love that girl, you tell her, and then you never let her go.”

Bradley was silent as he mulled over his words. He was right, after all. Tomorrow wasn’t promised. He’d found a good thing in this girl, and he’d be a fool to let her slip away just because he was too cowardly to commit. And when he thought about a life without her in it, it all seemed so empty and cold.

Even so, he had much to think about. There was some emotional turmoil he had to work through. Long-forgotten demons hiding in a closet, waiting to be brought to the light.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I just, uh, get so caught up in my head sometimes. I forget that it’s okay to let myself experience happiness.”

“Your mom and dad wanted you to be happy. And I know for a fact that if Goose were here right now, he’d encourage you to go after the girl of your dreams. There’s nothing in this world that would have kept him from Carole.”

Bradley knew that to be true. Many times, his mother had recounted the story of how she’d met Nick Bradshaw. And although the ending to their story had been tragic, and the chapters in between had been difficult, she didn’t regret marrying him. She always said it was the best decision she’d ever made, and a large part of that was because Bradley had been born as a product of their love.

He wanted a love like that. Pure and true, withstanding the test of time. But the question was, could he fully commit to it? Or would he let his fears hold him back?

“I’ve got a lot of thinking to do,” he mused, glancing at Pete.

He nodded. “Don’t spend too long in your head, though. It’s easy to get lost up there.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Finally, the two men stood. Bradley offered a smile. “Thanks, Mav. I know playing therapist probably wasn’t how you wanted to spend your morning.”

“Hey, it’s not a problem. You can come by anytime, you know that. I’m just glad to be a part of your life again.”

As he left that morning, he found himself wishing nothing more than to run back into the arms of the woman he’d walked away from. But there was no time, for he had to report for duty, and he couldn’t very well abandon his post, no matter how tempting it was.

So he went to work. And he did his job. And in between all of it, he did some thinking. And some more thinking. And even more thinking. He thought about a future with her. Thought about a handful of little ones. A dog. A house. A comfortable life. And the more he considered it, the more he realized that he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it. All of it involved her, and if he didn’t have her, he had nothing.

But she was unaware of the turmoil he was currently in the midst of. When she awoke that morning, she found herself in an empty bed, void of her lover and his warmth. He rarely left in the morning without at least saying goodbye. The realization that he’d slipped away unnoticed created a strange tightness in her chest, and she wondered if she was to blame.

He’d been acting strange ever since last night, when she’d uttered those three fateful words. I love you. She’d meant them when she said them. But he hadn’t said them back. And she wondered if maybe she had misread the situation. Maybe he didn’t love her the way she loved him. Maybe all this was to him was sex, and nothing more.

But she couldn’t believe that. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. He loved her, too. He just couldn’t admit it. He shied away from talking about his personal life, save from a few mentions of how he’d lost both his parents, so she had never really been able to get to the bottom of his apprehension toward developing feelings. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that she couldn’t keep this up much longer.

She couldn’t pretend like there was nothing there, because there was something. A spark, just waiting to ignite into a wild flame, consuming everything in its wake. But she feared that it might be extinguished entirely before it even had a chance to grow.

When she didn’t hear from Bradley at all that day, her heart began to sink. She sent him a text, simple and to the point, but full of concern.

I hope you’re okay.

Got some things to think through. Talk soon.

She tried to get answers out of him, but he refused, leaving her to wonder what he meant by things to think through. Did that mean it was over between them? Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing him again. She’d come to love the moments they spent together in between their trysts in the sheets.

Moments in which pillow talk would take place. Conversations that would last well into the night, talking about anything and everything. Those were the moments she fell in love with him. Gradually, like an hourglass filling with sand. But turn that hourglass over and it upsets the whole process. That’s what she felt had happened between them. Bradley had turned them both upside down and interrupted the flow.

Three days passed without a word from him. She went about her daily routines. Get up. Go to work. Come home. Go to bed. Do it all over again. And she missed him. Oh, how she missed him. And she wondered if she would ever see him again.

She felt like a fool. Here she’d gone and let herself get attached to him, only for him to wound the heart she held out to him. She knew she never should have uttered those three words to him. Exposing such a vulnerable part of herself to him was a mistake, and she wished she’d had the foresight to keep her mouth shut.

That left room for resentment to take root, and it was already beginning to bud and take shape like a new plant in the spring. Except this plant was the kind that would choke all the good, healthy ones out.

On the fourth day, she resigned herself to never hearing from him again. If he wanted to run like a coward, that was his prerogative.

But then, he showed up on her doorstep that night, and the moment she saw his face, she knew she’d let him in all over again, because she couldn’t resist when it came to Bradley Bradshaw.

He’d done a lot of reflecting. Spent the last four days agonizing over the situation. But a bit of advice that Maverick had given him some time ago came to his mind. Don’t think, just do. And although he’d been talking about flying, Bradley used it to apply to this moment in his life.

“Fuck it,” he’d said. He got in his car and drove to her place, and found himself on her front porch, knocking gently on the door.

A few moments later, the porch light came on, and the door opened to reveal her, dressed in one of his old Navy shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, and he thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“Bradley,” she said in an exhale of breath.

His eyes, wide and full of remorse, met her own. “Did you mean it?”

She was slightly confused, brow furrowing. “Mean what?”

“When you said you loved me. Did you mean it, or were you just saying it because—”

“I meant it. I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t.”

His shoulders fell, seemingly in relief. “I want you to know I love you too.”

She shifted her weight to her other foot. “You have a funny way of showing it, running off like you did. You can’t just disappear like that.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I had a lot to process.”

She straightened, squaring her shoulders. “Next time, talk to me. I won’t have a relationship where neither of us communicates about how we’re feeling. Running doesn’t fly with me. You do that to me again and you’ll lose me forever.”

There was a determination, a firmness in her voice. Bradley nodded, face sincere. “I won’t do it again, I swear to you.”

She could see how sincere he was. It burned in his eyes, like the warm flame from a lone candle. Finally, she stepped aside. “Come inside.”

He did, stepping over her threshold and into the comfort of her home. She led him into the kitchen, where she proceeded to make two mugs of hot cocoa. They were both quiet as she worked, and finally, she sat down at the table with him, handing him his mug as he murmured a soft utterance of thanks.

“Why did you leave?” She asked.

“Because I’m scared of commitment. I told myself I wouldn’t catch feelings, but I did anyway. And it fuckin’ terrified me. My job puts me at risk every day and I can’t help but think, what if I leave you behind? My mom lost my dad to the sky, who’s to say the same thing won’t happen to us? That’s why I struggle so much to bite the bullet and tell you how I feel.”

Her features softened, and she leaned forward, placing a hand over his own. “I know what your job entails. Are you forgetting that I’m a military brat? My dad put his life on the line every day. I’m no stranger to that fear. I can handle it. I know what I’m signing up for.”

“I know,” he whispered. “It still doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it’s my choice if I want to get involved with a man who risks his life every single day. I’m not going to let that fear stop me from loving you. I want a relationship with you, Bradley.”

He held her gaze, nodding his head. “I want that too. I really do.”

“Then let’s take a leap of faith and see where it takes us.” She smiled softly at him, her face warm and loving.

His fingers intertwined with hers. “Okay. I…I can do that.”

The apprehension and fear he felt still gnawed at him, but she was right. It was worth it to take a leap of faith, to see where this love would take them. Bradley didn’t want to live a life without her in it, and he was tired of running. It was time to let himself love and be loved.

She leaned in then, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, fingers idly tracing over one of the familiar scars etched into his skin. “So, I’ll say it again. I love you. And I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

“I love you too. I need you like I need air to breathe.”

Before her lips met his, she smiled, and then she was kissing him. Slow and deep, and it warmed his chest, sending his heart fluttering within his rib cage. He melted into her, allowing himself to be in the moment.

Her fingers slid through his hair, moving up to tangle in the sun-lightened waves atop his head. He relished in her touch, so deliberate. She knew just what to do to render him a needy mess.

“Take me to bed,” she gasped against his mouth.

Who was he to deny her when she asked so sweetly? Without hesitation, he hoisted her up, utilizing his impressive strength to carry her out of the kitchen, their hot chocolate long forgotten.

His large hands gripped her thighs tightly, keeping her in place as he headed off to her bedroom. Promptly, he deposited her onto the bed, and when she looked up, he was looming over her, big and broad and driven by his need for her.

He pushed her knees apart, and then he reached down, tugging her shorts off in one swift motion, exposing the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties underneath. He groaned lowly, eyeing her delicate center, already glistening with arousal.

“S’ pretty, doll face,” he hummed, fingers parting the folds to get a better look, and expose that sensitive little bud.

But he wanted to see more of her. In seconds, her shirt was gone, and she was entirely bare, while he remained clothed. But it was short-lived, for soon, he shrugged out of his shirt and jeans, and tossed his underwear somewhere unbeknownst. All that was left was the silver chain of his dog tags.

Then he was on top of her, body warm against hers as his lips found hers again in a searing kiss that lit both of them on fire. Hands wandered, hips undulated against one another, mouths trailed over warm skin.

Bradley realized his hands were shaking as he pulled her legs up to wrap around him. But she calmed him, taking those unsteady hands and placing them upon her breast. He locked eyes with her, and she beckoned him forth again so she could kiss him before she guided his right hand down between her legs.

“Feel how wet I am for you,” she coaxed.

She was indeed. He couldn’t help but moan as his fingers glided through the slick. His cock twitched as his desire to be sheathed inside her mounted. He dipped his middle and ring fingers inside her, crooking them upwards and finding that spot that made her gasp.

He was good at that. Always had been. No other lover she’d been with could find that spot, but he’d made it his mission to do so, and he never disappointed.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he hissed, glancing down to find that her arousal was trailing down his hand.

“All for you,” she echoed.

He pulled his hand back, only to use her wetness as lubricant to stroke his cock. She whined at the sight, heat blossoming through her body like she was a live firecracker.

He sucked what was left from his fingers, not one to waste anything, and she about spontaneously combusted. Then, he was settling between her legs, lining himself up with her. Normally, he would take his time with her and draw it out, but he wanted her so badly, and he wasn’t going to deny either of them what they truly wanted.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he assured her, and she knew he would.

When he pushed into her, she couldn’t help the loud moan that tore from her throat. The initial stretch took her breath away, and she shivered beneath him. Bradley let out a wavering groan, his mouth falling open.

He stayed there with his hips flush against hers for a few moments, taking in the feeling of her cunt snug around him. He’d never tire of the way she felt around him, like she was made for him.

Feverish lips were on hers again, tongue and teeth clashing, moans entwining. Her hands found their way to the plush of his ass, and she dug her nails into his skin. “Move,” she hissed through her teeth.

His arms rested on the mattress, near either side of her head, and then he pulled back and shunted his hips forward. She arched into him, letting out a soft “oh!”

Bradley glanced down at the place where their bodies met, and the sight of her taking every inch of him made his head spin. “Only been four days and I missed being inside this sweet pussy so much.”

“I missed it too,” she breathlessly confessed.

He pulled back again and drove forward, slowly building up to a steady rhythm. She wrapped her legs around his waist, keeping him impossibly closer, every inch of their bodies touching.

They moved in tandem, joined as one. One breath, one heart, one soul. A silent understanding passed between them both. A promise that they’d never be apart again. This was the beginning of forever.

Her eyes met his, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Each push of his hips into her elicited the most beautiful pleasured expression on her face, and he didn’t want to miss a single second of it. Her brows would rise, her mouth would fall open, and her head would fall back against the pillows. God, she was angelic.

“I’m never leaving you again,” he confessed, face slack with ecstasy. “I’m yours for as long as I live.”

Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she pulled him down by the dog tags, mouth searching for his. In the process, he quickened his movements, and the audible sound of skin against skin could soon be heard, an erotic soundtrack coupled with their breathless moans.

Wanting her to feel as much pleasure as possible, Bradley made sure to focus on other parts of her body. He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around each of her nipples, sucked at her collarbone, dipped his fingers into her mouth.

“Harder, please,” she breathlessly begged after a while, and he didn’t hesitate to give her what she wanted, fucking into her harder, faster. She grew more vocal, and it only egged him on.

Then he brought his hand down between their connected bodies, fingers pressing against her aching clit, and it pulled the most salacious moan from her. She could feel him smile as he trailed his mouth along her neck, his mustache prickling at the sensitive skin.

“That feel good, honey?” He asked. He knew it did.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “Feels s-so good.”

His teeth nipped at her pulse point, only for his tongue to soothe the sting. She barely had a moment to react to it, because he was already hurrying his movements, fucking her deeper than before. He pushed her legs up further, which gave him more range of motion, and his cock brushed against that spot within her that made her eyes roll back in her head.

“Fuck!” She cried, jolting against him. “Right there!”

“Yeah? That’s your spot, ain’t it?” He taunted. If she wasn’t already so fucked out she might notice his smug expression. He knew exactly what he was doing. She was going to come undone at least twice before he even reached his own end, because her pleasure was his first priority.

Her hands found their way to his back, which her fingers dug into, sure to leave trails of pink in their wake. He didn’t care. He wanted her to mark him up, to stake her claim on him. He was hers and no one else’s.

She lifted her head from the pillows, searching for his mouth again, and he kissed her, swallowing her moans that kept growing in pitch. He could feel her tightening around him, and he knew she was close. “Want you to come for me, sweet thing.”

“I-I’m almost there,” she squeaked.

“I know. You let go when you need to. I’m gonna fuck you through it.”

She allowed herself to bask in the sensations warming through her. Crackles of ecstasy, beginning at the base of her spine and flowing out to her extremities. She felt like a live wire, thrumming with electricity.

He infiltrated her every sense. His warm skin against her own. His gravelly moans filling her ears. The taste of his mouth against hers. The darkened honey of his eyes as he caught her gaze. The scene of his cologne, and the wonderfully familiar scent that could only be described as Bradley. She was surrounded by every part of him, and she couldn’t get enough.

She grew more vocal the more intense it became, and the sound of her desperate moans was music to his ears. “Sing for me, baby. Let me hear how good it feels.”

And she did. She cried out for him, body trembling in his arms as he fucked her. With his fingers at her swollen bud, and his cock snug within her, she was plummeting to the edge, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. So she did just as he said. She let it wash over her, and she didn’t hold back.

When her eyes locked with his, wild with need, he knew she was done for. He watched in awe as she fell apart, writhing in euphoria as her orgasm engulfed her entirely. He fucked her through it, like he’d promised, but he had to slow down and grit his teeth as he tried to stave off his own end. Her cunt tightened around him, nearly sending him over the edge, but he held it together and allowed her to experience her own pleasure before chasing his own.

When she finally came down, she fell limp beneath him, chest heaving as she fought to regain her bearings. He remained against her, grounding her. His lips were on hers, and he kissed her gently, slowly coaxing her down from the intensity she’d just experienced.

He’d paused his movements, allowing her a moment to recover. As that spaced-out look in her eyes began to fade, she looked up at him, smiling shyly. “Th-that was…wow.”

Bradley grinned at her, his cheeks flushed. “Glad to hear,” he said, laughter in his voice.

She pulled him closer, a look of mischief crossing over her features as she tapped his ass with her heel. “Giddyup,” she coaxed.

She certainly didn’t have to tell him twice. He resumed his pace, quickly moving back up to speed. She wrapped her legs securely around his waist, arms snaking around his shoulders. He braced his hands on either side of her, face hovering over hers.

God, he was breathtaking like this. Eyes set with determination, mouth slack, cheeks pink. Sweat glimmered on his brow. His dog tags jangled with each thrust.

He’d started grinding his hips into hers with each thrust, pubic bone creating friction against her clit, and she was so sensitive that it nearly sent her over the edge again. “Oh!” She gasped, mouth falling open.

He felt her tighten around him again, and he let out a broken grown, slowing down. “Fucking hell, baby. You keep doing that and I’m not gonna last much longer,” he warned. His resolve was quickly fading.

“C-can’t help it,” she whimpered. “Feels too good.”

Something about her tone, and the look of innocence on her face, lit a fire within him, one that began to spread throughout every inch of his body.

He sped up, bracing himself above her as he rose to a rough, unforgiving pace. He fucked her hard, and the sounds she made only spurred him on. At that point she could hardly utter a coherent word. The only thing coming out of her mouth were unbridled moans and whimpers.

Somewhere along the way, she was hit with a second orgasm out of nowhere, and she quite literally sobbed as it crashed into her. This time, Bradley didn’t slow down. In fact, he fucked her so hard through it that she ended up soaking him with her release, the evidence of which coating his dick and his upper thighs.

He glanced down at the mess, dripping beneath them onto the sheets, and his mouth hung open. But she was quickly growing embarrassed.

“S-sorry. I made a mess,” she despaired, her voice wavering.

It took everything in him to keep his composure. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he gritted out, fighting everything within himself to keep it together just a little longer. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

His voice was wrecked, and his whole body trembled. He knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. So he kissed her long and hard, and fucked her into the mattress. He could feel it building, and he didn’t stop until it finally overwhelmed him.

With all but a shout, he drove his hips forward, pressing them flush to hers as he spent himself inside her, filling her to the brim with all he had to give. She took it all like the good girl she was, and soon, they both collapsed against the bed in exhaustion.

Bradley was careful not to rest his entire weight upon her, and he very gently eased his softening cock out of her, soothing her when she whimpered.

He couldn’t bring himself to speak for a few moments, and neither could she. They were still easing through the post-orgasmic haze. Instead, he opted to hold her, keeping her tucked against his chest. She was still jolting from the aftershocks.

Several minutes passed, and the fog began to clear from her brain. And as it did, she realized what a mess she’d made. She glanced down and gasped at the sight of the soaked sheets, and she hid her face against his neck in embarrassment.

“I can’t believe that happened,” she murmured. “I’ve never done that before.”

He pulled back to look at her, face a mix of incredulity and pride. “You mean no one has ever been able to make you squirt before?”

“N-no. They’ve never cared enough to try. I didn’t even know I could do it, anyway.”

He couldn’t hide the grin that spread across his face. “So I’m the first one that ever made you feel that good?”

She pushed at his chest. “Don’t get all cocky now.”

He hummed in amusement and leaned in to kiss her nose. They fell into a comfortable silence again, basking in the afterglow for a little while longer before it was finally time to get cleaned up.

Bradley stripped the bed while she excused herself to the restroom, and by the time she emerged, he already had fresh sheets on, and was just spreading the duvet over the mattress. Sometime during the process, he’d thrown on his underwear, though he wore nothing else.

“Thank you,” she expressed her gratitude for him changing the sheets.

“It’s the least I could do, since I was the one who helped make the mess,” he said with a good-natured grin.

She stepped in close, placing her hands on his broad chest. Instinctively, his own hands rested upon her hips, keeping her flush against his body. The atmosphere shifted into seriousness.

“Are you going to stay this time? Or will I wake up to an empty bed again?” She asked.

He held her gaze. “I’m staying. Remember what I told you? I’m never leaving you like that again. You’ve got me now, for as long as you’ll have me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making things right if I have to. I don’t ever want to hurt you again.”

She hummed, leaning up to kiss his mouth. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life making it right. All I ask is that you be open and honest with me from here on out. It’s my only condition.”

He nodded without hesitation. “I will be. I promise.”

Then she smiled, “I’ve heard that you’re a man of your word. Is that true?”

“My word is good,” he simply replied.

“Well, in that case, Mr. Bradshaw, will you be mine?” Mirth lit up her eyes.

It was his turn to smile. “I will gladly be yours, darlin’.”

And so, their love story began.

taglist

@halfway-happyyy @natasharomanoffisbaebby @oliviabelova @robertbobfloydlover @supernaturaldawning @marrianena @mys2425 @n3ssm0nique @ice-mans-world @lovemesomevesey @straightforwardly @mochi-de-bisou @christinafaucher @emmmaturtle @fantasias-creativebubble @worldmadeofmemories @tarohemianrocketmanapsody @m0chac0ffee @not-leaprvt @i-simp-much @soaharleys @colorfultyrantearthquake @obxsuperfan07 @juniebugg @marchingicenotes7 @airedale17 @jamiedontbeacracko @monosjoons @dilfsandtherapy @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @unluckymonaghan @utterly-in-like @chxosunbound @thesewordsareallihavetogive @unordinare @currentlybradshaw @elevens-strangerthing @the-hottest-lieutenants @glodessa @peachiestkeen @alexxavicry @cherrycola27

#rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine

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good-soupmens · 8 months

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Ik the good omens fandom has different takes on God as a character, but I like the idea that she DOES have an ineffable plan, and Heaven is doing their absolute worst job carrying it out.

Most angels never talk to God, and they're usually selfish, they don't do the right thing (only what they're told), and it's even possible they're working under a corrupt power (like the Metatron). I like that theory because Metatron IS the barrier between God and the angels. He could easily lie to them and change plans, and we the audience know that "friendly old man metatron" swindling Aziraphale is not what he seems.

But from the beginning, we see inconsistency. Crowley falls from heaven after asking questions/hanging out with the wrong group while Aziraphale is allowed to lie about the flaming sword and change Heaven's plans. God can see how much he cares about humans and the earth by his actions (Crowley being the same), which makes me think that him getting away with it is intentional, not inconsistent or neglectful. ESPECIALLY if Aziraphale and Crowley run heaven and hell respectively in season 3. They have the power to change things, just like they stopped the world from ending the first time. I think Crowley and Aziraphale ARE the ineffable plan.

Their love could bridge the gap between opposing forces in a way that it couldn't if they were both angels. After all, both heaven and hell think they're doing the better thing while they're both not. Crowley and Aziraphale are the best of both sides.

If bringing them together was God's plan, it'd be a powerful story for queer Christians!! A lot of us have been hurt by the church, but we hold on to God's love, which doesn't fail us. We stay in a religion with a history of fighting queerness not because we're all brainwashed, but because we wholeheartedly believe in a God that loves us. Sometimes I see good omens' heaven as an analogy for toxic churches, and I'd love nothing more than for Aziraphale to realize heaven is working against God. Not to mention God using a gay couple to save the world/save heaven from corruption?? I'd kill for that storyline

Secondly, Aziraphale's devotion wouldn't have been for nothing. If God was awful the whole time, it defeats the times he and Crowley reached out, and the moment in the GOs1 finale where Crowley says, "what if you're going AGAINST God's ineffable plan?" to Gabriel and Beelzebub. (It'd almost defeat the purpose of her being the quirky narrator following their story, too.)

Even Crowley, never fooled by "heaven is all good" calls for God in his time of need ("God listening? Show me an ineffable plan.") (Possibly when he reaches to the sky in order to stop time) (Calling for God before Satan in the burning bookshop) (Looking up and muttering "God" after realizing Aziraphale is going to leave him in s2)

Lastly, after the trauma that both Crowley and Aziraphale went through, with Crowley falling and Aziraphale coming to terms with heaven's corruption (and both being mistreated by their side) it'd be nice to have been for a reason. They have every right to grieve and be angry for all that they went through, and the centuries that they weren't supposed to love each other, but I believe the series will end on a positive, sweet note, like the rainbow after a storm.

Like Job, they're losing almost everything (their relationship as it was, the bookshop, and the life they carved out), but they have each other. I think they'll lose everything to save EVERYONE, and in the end, the reward will top the pain. No holding back, no forces hunting them down, just them together after a PAINFULLY long time with everything they'd wanted.

We know that God doesn't get around to answering many questions, but her speech to Job was in part to say "trust me"

She laid the foundations of the earth. She made every living thing. Job couldn't see past the destruction of his life, but she has a plan. Job is a valuable human being, but he doesn't have the power and knowledge of God. God will share her plan when he can make a whale. Otherwise, he can trust that "Most things are fine in the end"

*Aziraphale voice* That's ineffable!

#ineffable husbands being the ineffable plan PLEASE #again. God being a good character in the end would mean a lot to queer christians like myself #and for the amount of times that ineffable is thrown around. it turns out ineffably #I'd like another reason to hate metatron also. I would love plot-wise for him to be the main villain #I also NEED Aziraphale to be right about some things. he was wrong for leaving Crowley but he should know what he's doing #his actions should be more important than “he's just brainwashed”#Crowley deserves reconciliation and a purpose for his pain #“it is not good for man to be alone” (God creating eve) parallel with putting aziracrow together #god good omens #good omens meta #metatron good omens #good omens season 3 #good omens theory #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens spoilers #crowley good omens #ineffable plan #queer christian

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marvelcriminalhoe · 2 years

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Mavs Kinktober

Dark! Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen! Reader

“You look good with my hand around your throat.”

Warnings: This is a Dark! story, so 18+ only. Noncon. Incest (Uncle/Niece.) Age gap. Pervy Daemon. Creepy men. Forced touching. Grouping. Unwanted touching. Manipulation. Choking. Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it.) Damaging someone’s reputation (On purpose.) Talks of forced marriage.

AN: 3rd time posting because it just wont show up in the tags :/ Anyway stay tuned for more Daemon and the rest of my kinktober stories!

Word Count: 3,838

It’s tiering sometimes being a princess. Of course, you try not to complain, not wanting to burden anyone with your selfish thoughts, you definitely don't have it as your sister Rhaenyra, the heir to the iron thrown, but it’s still tiering. Having to constantly be regal and poised, having to converse with people that want nothing more than to use you to up their own status in court, having to entertain the hoards of Lords that want to marry you, only for power and your body.

Rhaenyra and you have always been close, only 2 years between the two of you, and you know far more Lords tried to gain her favor than you, but usually, when they would strike out with her, most of them would crawl to your side and try for the other princess.

Despite your closeness, you are very different. The main one being you’ve never understood the whispers of the dragons rage, not having experienced it like the rest of your blood, but watching your sister next to you, you only hoped you never would.

Your sisters rage only seemed to intensify when her betrothal to your cousin, Laenor, was announced by king father. She stormed out of the council meeting and you swear you could see actual smoke coming off of her. She protested, loudly, screamed and cried at your father. She didn't want to marry him, the only man she wanted to marry was the prince of the city, your uncle, Deamon Targaryen.

Rhaenyra had always sort of been infatuated with him. You could understand why, he was handsome, had that adventurous spirit your sister also carried, and was not a poised member of the court, something your sister loathed of all her other suitors.

She seemed to always over looked how controlling Daemon seemed to be. How dark his gaze was, the demons within his eyes always sending shivers down your spine when his purple orbs connected with yours.

Unlike your sister, you always tried to avoid him, which also always seemed to be hard task. Where you were, Daemon seemed to follow. If you were in the gardens, enjoying a nice walk, he would soon appear by your side, offering you his arm and taking the walk with you, no matter how much you protested wanting to be alone. If you were in the library, reading a book in the quiet, he seemed to know, seeking you out and ruining the silence with his deep voice.

Daemon just aways seemed to rub you the wrong way, his lingering eyes, his far too sweet touch. The rumors about him didn't help. The stories of his anger, his temper, only heightened your fear. You never understood Rhaenyra’s true fascination.

If you’re going to be wed to a Lord, you hope it will be someone kind, someone you can for a friendship with. Your sister did not seem to have the same sentiment.

Sadly, your sister did not get her wish. Your uncle, who's wife died a 4 moon turns ago, declined the offer to marry your sister, something that shocked everyone, aside from your father however, who seemed highly pleased with his answer.

If you were brave enough, you would have questioned him about why he would do such a thing, but instead, you gently excused yourself to follow your sister out, allowing her to cry on your shoulder while you tried consoling her heartbreak.

Two moon turns later, your sister, still forlorn, was dressed to the nines for her wedding. You complimented her dress and hair, trying to get a smile on her face, but her mood did not rise. Not while getting ready, not at the ceremony, and not even at the celebration feast afterwards.

You watched her most of the night from where you sat at the head table, her gaze locked on your uncle, who seemed keen on ignoring her completely. Calling out her name when she seemed to have enough of the festivities in her honor, you chose not to follow as she left the hall, instead sending a sympathetic smile to Laenor as he followed his now wife.

With your sister and her new husband gone, definitely not enjoying their marital bed, you are left alone, without a shield from the Lords visiting, and with Rhaenyra officially off the market, it will only be that more exhausting to try and fend them off.

Which is how you ended up here, trying to discreetly get out of a conversation with Lord Jason Lannister, the absolute bane of your existence. He is an egotistical man, but then again, most of them are. Lord Lannister just seems to always know how to trap you in conversation with him for far too long.

Just as you are trying, again, to excuse yourself, a voice from behind you seems to do it for you, “Lord Lannister, would you mind giving me a moment with my dear niece.” It was phrased as a question, but everyone knew it wasn’t one. Prince Daemon doesn't ask questions, only gives orders. You don’t hear what Lord Lannister says to him, turning around to face your uncle. He’s closer than you thought, or is appropriate, but that also doesn't surprise you.

Daemon is anything but appropriate.

“Uncle.” You greet, your voice coming out as more of a whisper when his purple gaze meets yours. This is the closest you've been to him since he returned to the castle, having been away for awhile. You've been successful in avoiding him, having your hand in a lot of the preparations for your sisters wedding, trying to make sure that despite her not wanting it, it would still be a day fit for the future queen.

Daemon returns your greeting with your name falling from his lips, almost in a mocking whisper to match yours. You take in his appearance. His pink lips painted with a smirk, his white hair now cut short and pushed back, a few stray strands falling in front. He is handsome, something everyone has always known, even you.

Just as you took him in, Daemon seems to have taken you in as well. His eyes, dark and enticing, trailing up and down your body, with a deep hunger, his tongue poking out to wet his lips, his hand reaching out to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear, his warm, callused hand resting a few moments longer on your soft skin than is proper, as he speaks your families mother language, “Ao jurnegon gevie, riñītsos.” Your heart speeds up a little at his words, You look beautiful, little girl, But he doesn't stop there, “Se olvie gevie riña isse se dārion.” The most beautiful girl in the kingdom.

You clear your throat, briefly blinking away from his stare before gaining the courage to look back at him, “I think that is insensitive to say, considering this is the future queens wedding.”

“And yet,” Daemon smirks, stepping closer to you, “It doesn't stop it from being true.”

When you were younger, you, like your sister, admired your uncle. He was always fun to be around, entertaining you with stories of his life, taking you on a ride with Caraxes before you were allowed to ride your own dragon, giving you gifts from his many travels all around. It wasn’t until you grew into womanhood when you started to drift away, being taught by your Septa after your first bleed that some men are not good men, even if they are good around you. You learned how to properly read people, how to know which rumors are true and which are not, and that is how you learned that your uncle, has never been who you thought he was.

Daemon Targaryen is a Dragon, through and through.

“It seems the feast has tired me out more than I believed, surely I should retire.” You find yourself trying to excuse yourself from the man, much like you do with the other men of the court that give off the warning bells in your head, “Sȳz bantis, kepus.” Goodnight, uncle.

Though, your escape is in vain, “I shall escort you to your chambers then.” Daemon offers you his arm. You open your mouth to protest, stating your guard can escort you, only for Daemon to intervene, “Who better to protect you than your warrior uncle, dear niece?” You didn't have an answer for that, making you be on a quiet walk down the halls of the castle, your uncle by your side. The walk to your chambers seemed longer tonight, a small chill in the air as you move, and you think your uncle is walking slower than normal to prolong the journey. A thought you let leave your mind the moment it enters, Why would he do that? It’s not like you’re even conversing.

Reaching your doors, you are surprised to see the entry way empty of a guards presence, making your frown. There is always a guard in front of your chambers, your father all but demanding it, over protective, especially after your mother died and your sisters adventurous ways.

“It would be very reckless of me to leave you unguarded.” Your uncle voices, drawing you back from the wandering thoughts of where your guard could be.

You send a small, forced smile up at him, “I am sure I will be fine until they return.” “Then I will stay until then.” Daemon responds, and you should have known he always gets what he wants. With a sigh, you walk into your chambers, only for your uncle to follow you in as well, you turn to face him, “Uncle?” “You don’t expect the Prince to wait outside, do you, dear niece?” He questioned sarcastically, walking past you and further into the room, over towards your fireplace, making himself comfortable on the couch in front of it.

“What if someone sees you leave my chambers?” You don't want people getting any sort of ideas to spread rumors and tarnish your reputation.

Daemon quells your worries with a hearty laugh, “Is it a crime to want to spend time with my niece, who I have missed dearly on my travels?”

When you didn't move from your stunned spot by the door, he turns his head to you, brow raised, “Kessa ao daor join aōha kepa, gevie riña?” Will you not join your uncle, pretty girl?

You feel yourself flustered from his outward flirting, not used to such blatant compliments. Sure, you get the occasional one, but most are worried of being inappropriate and taken wrong, offending you, a princess, but obviously the city prince is not worried about such things.

“You enjoy reading, don’t you?” Daemon gestures to your stacks of books among the wall when you sit on the couch with him, keeping a good distance between the both of you. His question is not one you expected, but it leads you into a nice conversation with him about the things you've learned, making you relax the longer you are in his presence, not even noticing Daemon nearing you as the conversation goes on.

It’s not until he interrupts one of your retellings of Dragon History: Targaryen Riders, that you see how close you've gotten. Your shoulder brushing his, making you falter and tense up, “Your dress is very lovely.” His eyes are scrutinizing as he studies the layers of red and gold cloth adorning you. “Thank you,” You falter, not knowing if he actually means it, it’s always hard to tell with him. If he’s mocking you or being serious. 9 times out of 10 it’s the former, “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mmm.” Daemon hums, eyes slowly moving from up to your eyes, “I can see why. Though, I am sure the corset is dreadful to wear for so long.” You laugh lightly, he’s not wrong, “I have had plenty of practice.”

“Well, in the comfort of your own chambers, I am sure you can enjoy being out of the confines of such a foundation.”

His suggestion catches you off guard, making your eyes widen. Surely he knows how improper his insinuation is, even, and especially being, behind closed doors. But judging by how his eyes are glued to your covered chest, moving up and down more rapidly with every passing minute by the bubbling anxiety in your veins, he is completely aware. Your mouth goes dry, as you feel his warm hand gently caressing your skin, up your arm, over your clothed shoulder, to your back, where the laces of your corset sit.

“Daemon—“ You start, only to gasp as he skillfully undoes them. It shouldn't surprise you, you suppose, you’ve heard all of the rumors of him, he probably has plenty of experience with untying a woman’s corset.

“Just trying to get you more comfortable.” Daemon remarks, as if this is a normal situation. Granted, it is for him.

He doesn't give you time to reject, using both of his hands to unlace your corset, and the top of your skirt, forcing you to throw both of your hands up to hold your top in place, keeping your dignity, or whats left of it now.

“Stand up.” Daemon demands, making you shake your head, his voice growing more impatient, “Stand up.”

You do as your told, afraid of the repercussions if he were to be angered further, swallowing thickly as he uses his hands on your waist to turn you to face him, your skirt lowering slightly from you standing, being pushed down more and falling to your knees. You hear him hum as he grabs your wrists, forcing them down with tight grips, and making your corset fall the same way.

You feel embarrassed, not being able to look the prince in the eyes as he takes in your body lustfully. Your not bare to him, thankfully, but the small slip you wear under your dresses to keep from the laces rubbing your skin raw is as thin as one of your sleep dresses. Still, you’ve never been this exposed to a man. It’s indecent, and if someone were to know, were to find out, your character would be seriously tarnished. Ruined.

“Iā drēje jurnegon.” Daemon says, one of his hands letting go of your wrist to reach out to the slip, rubbing the silk between his fingers. A true sight.

You gasp as he pulls you forward closer to him, between his spread knees. You try to remain standing, but with another harsh pull, you fall on his lap, “Iā jaesa, drējī.” A Goddess, truly.

“Daemon—” You try to move off of his lap, his tight grip on your hips making you stay in place with a wince, a warning given no doubt.

“Let me enjoy the beauty in front of me.” He orders, his hands roaming your body. You jolt in shock as one of his thumbs rubs over your breast, your nipple hardening as he does it again. You feel tears pricing your eyes, but don’t try to pull away again, the bruises forming already from his angry hands keeping you complacent. “You have grown into such a beautiful lady over the years, forced me to watch you from afar. Teased me for too long.” A whimper leaves your lips and the first of the tears falls from your eyes when you feel the softest of caresses from Daemon’s lips touch your neck. The sound seemed to have broke any resolve he was holding back, if there was any to begin with, and your world spins as he flips you onto your back, him above you, making a home between your legs. The darkness in his eyes has you terrified as he looks down at you, but your reputation has you pleading with him, “Please uncle, Daemon— stop this.”

“Such a sweet voice,” He ignores your words, “Such a sweet girl.” He reconnects his lips to your neck, much harsher than the caress from earlier, “You taste just as sweet.”

You use your hands to push on his shoulders, but he drops all of his weight onto you, making your effort futile. You have no doubt that he is sucking and biting marks onto your neck, marks that you wont be able to hide or conceal, marks that will have rumors about your innocence roaming the halls of every castle in the seven realms.

“Stop.” You try again, but with the crack in your voice, sniffle of your nose, it is so pathetic.

Daemon listens to you however, tearing his lips from your neck to glare down at your face, moving one of his roaming hands to your throat, squeezing tightly, “You do not give me orders.” The sneer of his lips you've seen before, something he gives to his enemies, and somehow, that includes you now.

How you are the foe in this situation, baffles you.

More tears fall from your eyes as you wrap your hands around his wrist, trying and failing to pry it from your throat. His eyes zero in on his hand, contracting around your neck more, cutting off your airway completely. The sneer turns into a smug smirk, the glint in his eyes growing darker if possible, “You look good with my hand around your throat.” He draws his face closer, forcing a kiss upon your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, as he huskily says between them, “You were made to wear my hand. Made for me to use.”

He removes his hand, having you draw in gasps of air, not realizing the tearing sound you hear is your slip until you feel Daemon’s tongue on your exposed breasts.

His sucking and biting borders on painful, but it doesn't stop the sounds from falling from your mouth, embarrassingly loud. The groan that follows from Daemon is sinful, as is the shock you receive when he grounds his hips into yours.

“Lvestragī nyke rȳbagon aōha dōna sounds arlī, ñuha jorrāelagon.” Daemon demands, Let me hear your sweet sounds again, my love, Grounding his hips against yours over and over, pulling the sounds from you, no matter how hard you try to hid them.

You whimper when he finally pulls away, out of relief or distress you aren't sure, but Daemon doesn’t completely get off you, instead undoing his trousers and pulling his cock free, you start to panic again.

“Daemon, don’t do this.” Tears falling freely down your face as you watch the prince run his hand up and down his hard, red cock. You’ve never seen one, and wonder briefly if all of them are this big, but you don’t get to have anymore thoughts as his cock brushes against the lips of your cunt, “Please don’t!” You try to sit up, only for one of his hands to find home around your neck again, squeezing enough to caution you into not moving again.

“Don’t play so innocent.” Daemon stares at his cock, running through your lips and gathering your wetness, “If you didn't want this, you wouldn't be so soaked for me.” He groans as he moves his cock to your opening, his head sinking in slowly, as his gaze moves to your tear stained face, “You want me as much as I want you, princess. Crave me as I crave you.”

Your sobs of pain and dread don’t discourage him as he continues to sink into you until his his naked hips are flesh against yours. The small shake of your head doesn’t stop him from believing in his words.

“How you've deprived me too long of your soft walls and sweet flesh. I’ll teach you everything about pleasure, eventually. ” Daemon waits only a second before pulling out and pushing back in, your legs wide around him, his eyes staring at yours, his hair framing his face, his hand still securely around your throat, “But tonight, I’ve waited too long. You’re mine. From tonight on I will not be deprived again.”

He moans louder as he speeds up his thrusts dropping his head down to your neck. You feel sick at the feel of him inside you, his hot breath on your skin, his moans in your ear. But what makes you feel the most ailing, is how good it starts to feel, your body betraying you the most in this affair.

“I feel you squeezing me.” Daemon groans, letting go of your throat to grope your breast instead, kissing up you jaw, “Let me hear you.” He murmurs, “Lvestragī nyke rȳbagon mirre lī gevie elēni.” Let me hear all those beautiful sounds.

His whispering in your ear and the skillful assault of his hands and hips has you whimpering. You can feel every inch of him inside you, a disgustingly pleasing thought as you allow for the pleasure to take over you, not having the strength to continue fighting. You don’t know how long you whimper underneath him until you’re crying out, reaching your peak, and coming around him, squeezing his cock as tight as he squeezed your throat earlier.

The action makes Daemon growl, “That’s it, love. Let me feel you. Feels good doesn't it?” He speeds up his thrusts, angling your hips to go deeper and harder against you, “My cock feels so good inside you, made to be inside you. We were made for each other.”

His lips crash against yours firmly, bruising-ly, his hips stuttering as you feel his cock throb against your walls, his cum coating your insides as he drops onto of you completely, chest heaving up and down.

The kiss turns soft as he seems to come down from his own high, pulling away to ogle you beneath him, spent from his intrusions. He peppers your face with soft pecks, not caring for the taste of salt as you continue to cry lightly. You whine as he pulls out of you, sore, but you're too exhausted to care about anything else. You feel yourself be lifted from the couch and moved to a soft mattress, your tired brain supplying it’s probably your bed. You hear the sound of clothes rustling, and someone stoking the fire, before the mattress and blankets seem to move, hands grabbing at your aching body and pulling you towards them.

“We’ll tell them in the morning.” You feel Daemon murmur against your temple, placing more soft caresses against you, “We’ll tell them your mine and marry you to me, as it’s always meant to be. Your reputation renewed.”

You whine, something that doesn't make sense. There are so many things you should say, that need to be done, your reputation completely tarnished now, innocence taken, even with talks of trying to fix it with marriage, a marriage you've never wanted with him.

A marriage he’s seemed too keen to have regardless.

“Shh, it’s alright,”Daemon whispers in your ear as he curls around your worn out form, you feel something hard probing your oversensitive area, but your exhaustion seems to only grow heavier, “Just going to keep me warm, nothing else. I’ll let you rest. I’m sure your guard is back from the errand he was running for me and your sounds are only for my ears right now."

You don’t protest his words, allowing darkness to consume you completely. Not as if you could protest. Daemon Targaryen is a dragon, through and through, and he always gets what he wants.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of dragon #house of dragon fic #daemon #targaryen #targaryen reader

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candyhoiic · 2 months

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Thoughts of Adam and Lilith switching places in cannon lives rent free in my head ever since this post

I just want Adamsapple to exist cries

Plus, it would be so interesting to see how the smallest changes like a simple character swap can change cannon. Like I know we don't actually know why Lilith left yet, but with Adam in her place I imagine he left because he couldn't take watching his descendants be slaughtered every year. Since in my mind this version of Adam would actually care for his descendants, and so, to see them slaughtered every year would leave him feeling bitter towards Lucifer who allowed the exterminations in the first place. Putting their relationship on the rocks and probably ending with an explosive fight between the two.

I imagine Adam would eventually snap after eons of watching sinners get hunted down like it was a bloody sport, and threaten to fight back against Heaven if Lucifer wouldn't. And while Lucifer would start out level headed I imagine Adam would still be able to bring out the worst of him with the two of them feeding off of each other until the fight became more explosive.

Eventually leading to Lucifer accusing Adam of being selfish and not thinking about Charlie, which would only serve to piss Adam off more. With him arguing back that he was thinking of her more than he was. Launching on a tangent of how there was no way Charlie would want to live in a world where her people are continuously slaughtered. Going on to mention how she was a dreamer just like the man he fell in love with before implying how Lucifer wasn't that man anymore.

Adam: The kid's a dreamer! Something she sure as hell didn't get from me! No, she got it from the man I fell for and ended up falling with! Not whatever the fuck you are now!

Lucifer: Then, maybe you never really knew me because guess what?! This is who I am, who I've aways been!

Adam: ...ya know what? You're right. I guess I'm just the fucking idiot here again.

Adam would storm off uncaring of Lucifer calling after him while Lucifer wouldn't make any actual attempt to follow too tired and afraid. Lucifer would eventually retire to their room, figuring Adam would come back when he settled down since this wasn't their first fight. Only for Lucifer to wake up to Adam's cold, empty side of their bed. Well empty for all except Adam's wedding ring sitting innocently on top of his pillow with a note placed under it. Reading simply: I'm done.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel brainrot #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer #adamsapple #fallen adam #angst #hurt no comfort #hazbin hotel angst #character swap

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queen-haq · 1 month

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Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 5

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

Part 5

“Open the door this instant, Penelope!”

Hearing the banging on her door and her mama’s voice yelling from the other side, Penelope quickly put away her writing materials. The newest Lady Whistledown column sheet was almost ready. She had planned to complete it while Prudence and Portia were busy entertaining callers this afternoon only to be interrupted repeatedly. Irritated, she walked to the door and opened it, allowing Portia Featherington to barge in.

In her mother’s hands was a lovely bouquet of lilies which Portia placed on the nearby desk.

“The Bridgerton boy is here.” There was no mirth on Portia’s face, her striking eyes gleaming as she confronted Pen.

“Is he?”

“Which, I know, you’re already aware of because Mrs. Varley came up here to inform you.”

Pen kept her mouth shut.

“Is there a reason you turned down his invitation for a promenade?”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Not good enough, Penelope! When a gentleman comes to call on you, you must always say yes!”

“Even on our deathbeds,” Pen muttered under her breath.

“Yes, even then,” Portia retaliated. “Martha!” She screamed, calling for Penelope’s maid. “Wear something suitable for your walk with that boy. There will be others who see you in the park.”

“I thought he left?”

“Fortunately, he did not.”

“Mama, he’s not courting me. We’re just friends. You know that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s a Bridgerton. Where he leads, others will follow and that is the only thing working in your favour in your advanced age.”

And with that statement Portia stormed out, leaving Pen alone with Martha in her chamber.

“These flowers are beautiful, Miss. I’ll put them in water.”

Pen watched as Martha busied herself with the vibrant, varying colors of the bouquet. In one of their letters she had mentioned to Colin about her newfound appreciation of lilies, and apparently he had kept that in mind.

“Shall I fetch the orange dress for you, Miss?” Martha asked, returning to her.

“No, the pale green one please. And the matching shawl.”

As Martha scurried about, Pen took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

***

Penelope exited her home and headed down the stairs, Martha following behind her. Her mother was watching them through the window, taking note of everything going on, and Pen didn’t want to give her mama anything new to harp about. Colin, of course, was using her reticence to his full advantage. He stood on the sidewalk, a wicked smirk on his face, looking more handsome than any gentleman had a right to. Pen ignored the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, reminding herself how angry she was at him. What she wanted to do was take him to task for calling on her when she repeatedly asked him not to. Instead, she was forced to greet him with a stiff smile.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she said coldly, stopping in front of him.

His smirk transitioned into a full smile. “Pen,” he said with a deliberate languid drawl, trying to goad her no doubt.

“Mama is at the window.”

“I’m aware.” Colin’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Shall we promenade?”

Penelope glanced over her shoulder and found her mother watching her like a hawk. She turned back to Colin. “Forcing me into this wasn’t very gentlemanly of you.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Perhaps I’m no longer a gentleman.”

“Maybe you never were.”

She wanted to offend him but he seemed impervious to her taunts, instead offering her his arm for their walk together. Aggravated, she ignored him and started down the path by herself. Within seconds he was next to her, his long strides now matching her own pace, with Martha following behind them.

“Did you like the lilies?” Colin asked.

“I did not.”

He simply smiled. “That’s unfortunate. Maybe I’ll bring roses in the future.”

“Absolutely not!” she huffed. “Mama will get the wrong idea.”

“We are friends, Penelope,” he reminded her. “Friends give each other gifts. We’ve exchanged them in the past.”

“Never in front of Mama!”

“And I’ve visited you before,” he insisted.

“No, you haven’t. We’ve always only spoken at your home or social gatherings. In fact the only other time you came with flowers was to call on Marina.” The grimace on his face made her heart squeeze with envy. Even after all this time simply saying her cousin’s name evoked such a strong reaction in him. But as much as the idea of him still harboring feelings for Marina hurt, she wasn’t going to let pain distract from her focus. “I can’t have you encouraging foolish ideas in Mama’s head.”

He clenched his jaw, agitated. “Is this really about Lady Portia or are you worried your mystery suitor will get jealous?”

She stopped midstride, turning to level him with a hostile glare. “He knows there’s nothing between you and me.”

Colin took a step towards her. The blues of his eyes darkened, blazing with emotion. “Even after last night?” His voice was a throaty murmur, his words only meant for her ears.

Her heart quickened, His gaze drifted down to her lips, pausing momentarily, as if he was remembering touching her, the feel of his hot mouth on her skin. And then his sight travelled lower, to where he licked and kissed her chest, and the lovebites he left on her breasts that she had to scrupulously hide behind a scarf this morning lest her mother noticed. The way he was looking at her set her body on fire, she felt it intimately between her legs.

They were surrounded by people, yet it felt like it was only the two of them. As she found herself drowning in the depth of his eyes, the world ceased to exist.

And then the image of his panic-stricken expression flashed through her mind, reminding her of how horrified he was after kissing her.

Instantly she pulled away, turning away from him. She started walking faster, trying to regain her composure in the few short seconds it took for Colin to catch up to her.

“You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, Pen.”

“You’re right, I can’t. But that doesn’t mean I’ll allow a moment of foolishness to sway me from what’s important.”

“I know you. You wouldn’t have kissed me that way if you really loved someone else.”.

It was the conceit in his words that infuriated her. “Is that so, Colin?” She turned to confront him. “Didn’t you proudly claim to have flirted with half the women in London? I’m sure you’ kissed many of them. Will you stand there and tell me you cared for all of them? That all those ladies held a special place in your heart? Or will you be honest and admit a kiss can just be a kiss without it meaning anything?”

His eyes narrowed onto her. “Do you expect me to believe our kiss meant nothing to you?”

“Don’t treat me like a naïve debutante, Colin. I’m fully aware passion can exist without love.”

“But that wouldn’t be true for us, would it?” He didn’t move, yet it felt like his body swayed closer, encroaching on her personal space, making it impossible for her to think. Even breathe. “Because there is love between us. There always has been.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. For so long she’d yearned for his love, ached for it. Over the years there were so many times she thought herself a fool for even thinking he could love her. But then he would seek her out in a crowd to dance with her, they would talk about things they dare not discuss with others, and the hope in her heart would bloom despite her insecurities. Just like it did now. “Speak clearly, Colin. Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you. I’ve loved you since we were children. You’re my dearest friend.”

“But are you in love with me?”

“Are you?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. There were children playing in the park, families around them talking and laughing. Yet all she felt was Colin’s piercing gaze tear through her, the air thick with tension as the minutes ticked by. “Yes. Even though I desperately wish I wasn’t.”

His face ran the whole gamut of emotions, from utter shock to panic to fear. “I… Pen…”

“You’re not in love with me,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“No.”

His response didn’t come as a surprise, she had always known the truth. And despite the pain that wracked through her, she felt relief. Because she would no longer have to wonder. Now there was certainty and it brought with it a strong desire to move on.

There was much trepidation in his voice as he spoke next. “I’m sorry if I-”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Her voice was calm, steady. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” She glanced behind him, her eyes absently taking in the view behind. “We can’t help who we love.” There was a numbness that slowly spread through her, enveloping her heart, her very being.

“I care for you, Pen. And I know you, you’re kind and sweet and want to see the best in people. Which is why I’m worried-.”

“You don’t know me,” she replied, snapping out of her daze. His face came back into focus, along with the rest of the world. “Not really. You’ve only seen certain facets, parts that I’ve chosen to show. I’ve always been so worried about what others would think, of being palatable to my family, to you and Eloise, to society… and for what? What was even the point?” She started pacing, her mind reeling.

As much as she aspired to be good, she could never fully commit to it. Lady Whistledown was borne from the part of her that wanted retribution against the ton for always ignoring her. In the clear light of day she was voiceless and unwanted, but in the shadows was where she thrived, where her words meant something and she had value and control. There was a time when she used to think the different parts of her could coexist and she could still be more good than bad, but Eloise’s words during their last argument proved otherwise.

“What are you talking about?” He blocked her path, forcing her to look up at him. A confused expression marked his beautiful face. ”I’ve always known who you are.”

She peered up at him. Everything he said about her – kind and sweet and only seeing the best in people – was actually true of Colin himself. He deserved someone who was equally beautiful and kind, and that would never be her. “You’ve been a good friend, to me and my family. And I appreciate your concern but I can look out for myself. Arthur is a good man-”

“Arthur?” The sudden vitriol in Colin’s voice was sharp. “Arthur what?”

“That’s not important,” she said dismissively. “What matters is you no longer have to worry about me, Colin. I absolve you of that responsibility.”

“You do, do you?” Anger laced his voice, his eyes growing dark with contempt. “Because of this Arthur?” He took a step forward, crowding her, the proximity between them so close that she could feel his breath humming her skin, could almost feel the touch of his fingers against her gloves. “Tell me, Penelope, does he know you? Did you show him all the parts of you that you claim to have kept hidden from the rest of us?”

Irritation surged through her at his mocking tone, but she reminded herself to be patient. “He understands me better than most.”

“A man you’ve known for mere months?” Colin’s eyes glistened with fury. “Why does he get that privilege? What has he done to earn your trust so easily?”

The hate in his voice took her by surprise. “Why are you behaving this way, Colin? I thought you would be happy for me.”

Jaw clenched, anger masking his features, his eyes roamed over her face. “You expect me to live a life without you in it and be happy about it?”

“So what should I do, be a spinster for the rest of my life to appease you? Do you not see how selfish that is?”

“I don’t give a damn!”

Penelope noticed the glances thrown in their direction, the look of concern in Martha’s face. Even though Colin hadn’t raised his voice, the tension on his face made it clear they were having an argument. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm him down. “This isn’t who you are, Colin.”

“Isn’t it? Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know me.” He dipped his head lower, his eyes smoldering with rage. “Maybe I’ve always been unreasonable and selfish. Maybe I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people who matter to me.”

She didn’t know if the threat in his voice was deliberately meant to scare her but it elicited the opposite reaction, provoking her anger. “You’re not my guardian or my protector. I’m not your responsibility. I don’t need anything from you.”

Instead of backing off, his voice grew more determined. “You don’t have a choice in this matter, Penelope. I will not lose you.”

“Except I’m not yours to lose. I do not belong to you. You don’t get to make demands on me when you don’t even love me,” she reminded him coldly. “I will marry the man I choose and live the life I want. And it’s you who has no say in that matter.”

Feeling strongly in her resolve, she turned and walked away.

To be continued...

A/N - Thank you for reading. If you have the time, I'd love to read your feedback!

#polin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #bridgerton #my fics

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sundaysunny · 2 years

Text

TRAPPED!

pairings: donghyuck x you

genre: enemies to lovers, older brothers best friend, angst, (fluff at end)

tw: shitty parents, drinking, arguing

word count: 5.2k

synopsis: you’d grown up with lee donghyuck, him being your older brother mark’s best friend. but this didn’t that mean you automatically liked him, in fact, you felt quite the opposite. as did he. he was everything you hated about a person, he was loud, obnoxious, selfish and quite frankly, really fucking rude. you were absolutely sick of him. that was until your eighteenth birthday.

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

STRIKE 1: THE FAMILY VACATION

You were fifteen when you’d finally decided that you hated Lee Donghyuck. Before that, you’d have just said the two of you didn’t really get a long but could tolerate each other in small doses. Sometimes you could even share a laugh with him when your brother did something stupid, or he’d make a joke that actually made you giggle. But the long car journey to your lake cabin had destroyed any part of you that had been able to tolerate him in the slightest. Four hours, you’d been stuck in a car with him, your parents and Mark. Your parents had been kind enough to allow both you and your brother to bring a long a friend to your lake cabin that summer. Mark had obviously invited Donghyuck, whilst you’d invited one of your friends who couldn’t make it at the last minute. You felt desperately alone despite being cramped in the back next to your brother, and Donghyuck who insisted that you sit in the middle because you were the smallest, but you knew it was because he could annoy you as much as he could.

Twenty minutes into the journey was where you could feel your patience begin to wear down. Donghyuck had been talking the whole time, about how he’d gotten gotten a summer job and how he’d gotten into a good college and his scholarship for the baseball team and how amazing his grades were and how amazing he was and how amazing everything he did was. You rolled your eyes at every word that came out of his mouth. Your parents didn’t seem to see it though, they really did think he was amazing. You interrupted your mothers next question to Donghyuck by asking your dad how long left of the journey there was. Your mother turned and scowled at you.

“Still a while honey, it’ll go quick though.” Your dad made everything better. He was your rock. Even his voice made you feel better. Mark shuffled next to you, pushing you into Donghyuck’s side. “Aww did you want to be closer to me? That’s cute.” Donghyuck teased you, “In your dreams.” You said as you pushed away from him, subsequently pushing Mark closer into the door. Mark knew how much Donghyuck annoyed you and was sad that his little sister and best friend didn’t get along. He loved you both and found it difficult when you’d bicker and fight, especially when you dragged him into it. He remembered a time where Donghyuck had made you so mad that you’d cried. Hyuck had been winding you up about a bad grade you’d gotten despite knowing how much you struggled at school. He knew that Donghyuck wouldn’t have said it maliciously but he could see that you were at your limit with his constant teasing. “Are you just going to stand there and let him talk to your sister like that?” You’d yelled at him, making Mark immediately uncomfortable. “You know he’s only kidding. Don’t get yourself wound up about it.” You stormed upstairs, slamming your door behind you. Mark walked over to Donghyuck and lightly shoved him, “Give her a break man, she’s stressed with school.” Donghyuck rolled his eyes at Mark’s comment, “She’s fifteen, she has nothing to be stressed about. Plus she’s super smart and works hard.” If only you’d heard Donghyuck compliment you. If only Donghyuck had complimented you five minutes before when you were downstairs. There were many other times like that. Mark knee Donghyuck thought the world of you and was extremely frustrated that he wouldn’t just show it instead of constantly teasing you.

A few hours went by in the car and you were very nearly at the lake house. You’d spent the last hour asleep, not realising you’d been resting your head on Donghyuck’s shoulder. He’d obviously taken a picture of it to use as blackmail for a later date. He secretly wanted to set it as his lock screen because you just looked so sweet and innocent when you were asleep and not running your mouth. Donghyuck sniggered to himself as he looked at the picture, showing it to Mark for him to roll his eyes and smile at your sleeping self. Mark savoured the moment, this would probably be the only time for the next week that you would tolerate being near him, even if you were fast asleep.

Mark was right. It was the final day of the trip and even though himself, your parents and Hyuck had had a good time, he wasn’t sure about you. Donghyuck had teased you relentlessly. It wasn’t like you didn’t give as good as you got though. Mark was pretty sure you’d hurt Hyuck’s feelings a couple of times with your snarky comments. If a comment was good enough to make him shut his loud moth for two seconds, it was likely it had gotten to him more than it should have. Especially when you bought up his parents. “Why can’t you go on vacation with your own family?” You snapped back at Donghyuck who had made a stupid comment about the bikini you were wearing whilst the three of you were on your way to the lake. Mark knew that you knew that Hyuck didn’t have a good relationship with his parents so he was surprised that you’d bought them up. Donghyuck shut up for a while after that. You almost felt bad but remembered what he’d said earlier about how the bikini you were wearing made you look like a hooker. You couldn’t really believe he’d said that in front of Mark, actually you could, it wasn’t the most outrageous thing he’d said about you in front of Mark. You needed a way to hurt him back quickly and for him to shut his mouth before he said anything else wildly inappropriate about you in front of your brother. So his parents were a no brainier. The hurt look on his face after you said it though, it stung. You didn’t really want to hurt him that badly. The hooker comment wasn’t that bad and the comment about his parents didn’t really equate, Donghyuck felt. You brushed it off quickly though when Donghyuck pushed you off the jetty into the lake. Oh you definitely hated him.

STRIKE 2: THE PARTY

Your parents had very kindly allowed you to have some friends over for a sleepover in your back yard for your sixteenth birthday. You ordered pizzas and built a huge bed out of pillows blankets and duvets on your trampoline with your friends, adding fairy lights to the top for the final touch. You were so excited. The end of the school year just happened to match up with the weekend of your birthday so you and all your friends were buzzing. You didn’t think anything could bring you down at that moment. Until Lee Donghyuck showed up. He and Mark had come home from seeing their friends and he of course had so come over after, wanting to wish you a happy birthday. And to tease you of course.

“Birthday girl! Come and give me a hug!” Donghyuck yelled as he stepped out the door into your back yard. “Ew never.” You yelled back, going back to talking with your friends. Your friend Yuna shoved you, “Don’t be so rude!” She joked. She knew of your not so relationship with Donghyuck and found it funny every time you’d interact. “Really? No hug from the birthday girl? That’s a shame! I bought her a present and everything!” Your eyes shifted back to Donghyuck as he held up a bag for you to see. You rolled your eyes and shuffled off the trampoline and made your way towards him. You grabbed the present from him and turned on your heels, heading back towards your friends. “No thank you? How rude!” He yelled after you, running up behind you. Donghyuck stood at the side of the trampoline, his arms resting on it as you sat back down with your friends. “Go on, open it.” He pushed. You reluctantly put your hand into the bag and pulled out your gift. A small mirror. “Because you’re so vain!” He grinned. “God you’re such a loser.” You rolled your eyes and put the mirror back into the bag. At least he’d thought of you. He chuckled and walked away, heading back into the house. You chucked the bag to the side and tried to continue your previous conversations with your friends but all they could discuss was how cute Donghyuck was and how they wished he was friends with their brothers instead. “Seriously guys? He’s so annoying!” You exclaimed. “What? He literally bought you a gift!” Yuna swatted you, “And he called me vain! What’s cute about that? And quit hitting me!” You swatted Yuna back. “He probably likes you”, another one of your friends, Yeji said, wiggling her brows. “Oh my god ew, that makes me physically sick.”

They dropped the conversation as the the topic of cute guys at your school came up and none of you would ever miss an opportunity to talk about that. “Park Jisung is so cute, we’ve been talking loads since we became seat mates in Biology.” You gushed as your friends quickly agreed. “Oh my gosh please ask him out! That would be so cute,” Yuna squealed, grabbing your arm. “Every time he sees you he totally flirts with you it’s so obvious he liked you.” You weren’t so sure. You had zero experience with guys and the idea of asking a guy out scared the hell out of you, being rejected is probably your worst nightmare.

You did ponder over the idea however, because that morning Park Jisung had in fact texted you, wishing you a happy birthday. You’d thanked him and he’d replied saying that you guys should hang out over the summer. It didn’t seem too unrealistic. You made a mental note to text him in the morning to make plans to see each other.

Donghyuck was upstairs in Mark’s bedroom with him. The two were lying on his bed, some music playing softly on Mark’s speakers. Donghyuck could hear you giggling with your friends about this Park Jisung. The pang of jealousy he felt was definitely a new feeling and he wasn’t sure just what to do about it. It scared him. Donghyuck slept over that night, tossing and turning at the idea that you might have a boyfriend at some point. He wasn’t sure why it was making him so goddamn uncomfortable. You’d all fallen asleep outside, and Donghyuck felt it was his brotherly duty to check on you all to make sure you were okay. He crept quietly downstairs but jumped when he entered the kitchen, surprised to see you awake and leaning on the edge of the counter on your phone.

“Why are you awake?” He whispered to you, making your head whip up from your phone. “Jesus, you scared me. I could ask you the same thing.” You whisper yelled back. “I couldn’t sleep.” He mumbled, shuffling towards the cupboards, grabbing two glasses from one. He filled them up at the sink and then walked towards you, placing one in front of you. “Thanks.” You mumbled, going back to typing on your phone. Donghyuck winked at you before turning around and heading back upstairs. Once his head hit the pillow, he practically fell asleep immediately, he put down his previous worry about you to the fact that you and your friends were sleeping outside and he was worried about you. He wasn’t really sure that was why but it made him feel better about his feelings.

STRIKE 3: THE INFAMOUS DIET COKE INCIDENT

“Who the hell drank all my diet coke?” You stormed into the living room from the kitchen where Mark and Donghyuck sat playing video games. “Not me.” Mark mumbled as he concentrated on the TV in front of him. “Was it you?” You could feel your blood boiling because you knew exactly who it was. Donghyuck quickly snapped his head round to look at you. You looked really angry. “Me? I would never do that to you!” He said in a sarcastic manner, making your blood boil to an even higher temperature. “Don’t lie to me! I know it was you! You always do! It’s so fucking annoying Donghyuck! You don’t even live here, stop drinking all my fucking favourite drinks!” You practically screamed, storming upstairs. It may have come across as dramatic but a coke diet coke straight from the fridge was one of your only little pleasures in life. And Donghyuck knew this, that’s the only reason he drank them. He liked to get under your skin, he didn’t even like diet coke that much.

You walked into Mark’s bedroom, grabbing the 3 empty cans of diet coke and quickly ran back downstairs. You stood behind the couch and launched the cans at the back of Donghyuck’s head, shocking him. He gasped, “What the hell?” He turned around, annoyance spread across his pretty face. “Don’t drink my diet coke!” You laughed, spinning around on your heels and heading back upstairs. “I just died thanks to you!” He yelled, referring to his game.

You slumped on your bed, still laughing at your interaction with Donghyuck. Grabbing your phone, you pull open your texts with Jisung. You quickly texted him what happened and he replied seconds later with various laughing emojis. Your relationship with Jisung was going well, you’d only been together a month but things were moving fast. You really liked him and couldn’t wait to introduce him to your family. Your parents were really excited to meet him, always asking you to invite him around for dinner. You’d finally asked him after a couple of weeks and you’d agreed on tonight. You couldn’t wait for your parents and brother to meet him. You were slightly nervous about Donghyuck meeting Jisung, worried for what the older boy would do. You thought he’d probably tease him relentlessly, making him nervous which made you worried for the poor boy. You felt tempted to warn him not to be mean, but you knew that would probably backfire at some point. You knew Donghyuck too well and you’d definitely be setting yourself and Jisung up for extreme teasing.

Later on that evening, you opened the fridge whilst helping your mom set the table. Inside was a case of diet coke with a note attached. ‘Sorry :)’ it read. You face broke into a smile as you grabbed your drink and went back to setting the table. “Is Donghyuck staying for dinner tonight?” You asked your mom, placing a plate onto the table, wanting to know whether to set six places. “No sweetie, he had to rush off.” Your lips turned into a pout as you put the sixth plate away and continued on. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d be upset that Hyuck wasn’t coming over.” You rolled your eyes at your moms comment. Neither did you. You were’t really sure why you felt upset that Donghyuck wasn’t going to be there. You did hate him after all. Maybe you would text Donghyuck, asking him why he didn’t want to meet your boyfriend. You came up with a good idea. ‘What’s wrong? Are you jealous that I’ve got a boyfriend that’s not you?’ You typed out, pressing send. Your phone pinged almost immediately, ‘My mom wanted me home. Not everything is about you.’ Ouch. That did hurt a little bit, it felt more serious than the other times he’d said that. He usually used emojis too, to show lightheartedness, but it was pretty blunt and cold. You scowled, wondering if something was up with his parents. You knew he didn’t get along with them which was why he was always with your family. You locked your phone and went back to helping your mom, pushing your worries to the back of your head.

The dinner went really well. Your family loved Jisung, he even got on really well with Mark despite their shared awkwardness for these type of situations. It kind of went too well. You couldn’t help but miss Donghyuck’s presence at the table. You hated having these feelings, they felt so strange. You should have felt so happy that your family loved your boyfriend but all you could think about was Hyuck.

STRIKE 4: THE ARGUMENT

“Why would you say that?” You scowl at Donghyuck who’s too busy putting away dishes to notice your disgust with him. “Say what?” He pretends like he doesn’t realise the impact of what just came out of his mouth. You stop washing up for a second to turn around to face him. “That my boyfriend is pathetic. What does that even mean?” You question him, wanting to know what he’s going to come up with. “He has no back bone, he’s weak, how is he ever going to protect you?” His words feel like swords going through your spine. You’re not sure why it hurt like hell to hear him disapprove of your boyfriend. “Plus, he seems like the kind of guy who would cheat.” He finishes. You’re lost for words, it doesn’t even make sense. You can feel your eyes prick with tears as you ready yourself to yell at him. If Mark didn’t have stupid soccer practice he’d probably be trying to summer things down right now. But he’s not. So Donghyuck is about to get obliterated. “How dare you? You’ve met him once and you feel like you already know him! That’s how goddamn entitled you are, you think you know everything. And I don’t even need protecting! That’s so dated, what even the fuck? I can’t even believe you would say that he would cheat on me? Do you know how awful that makes me feel?” At this point tears have begun streaming down your face. Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say but he wishes he never said any of that. Now he’s made you cry. He feels awful. “Wait I’m sorry I didn’t mean any of that.” He tries to grab your arm as you leave the kitchen, distraught with what has just happened. Your parents are sitting on the couch, unaware of any of the argument. Your dad notices the tears on your face and quickly gets up to follow you upstairs. You begin to sob as you reach the top of the staircase. Donghyuck had really hurt you this time, it wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t funny, it hurt you, badly. It hurt that his disapproved of someone you loved and it hurt that you cared about what he thought.

Your dad followed behind you as you crawled onto your bed, covering your face with your hands. Your dad sits on the bed, grabbing one of your hands. “What happened honey?” He coos. “Donghyuck doesn’t like Jisung.” It just came out, you didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You didn’t want anyone to know that you did in fact care if Donghyuck liked Jisung or not. You begin to sob again. Your dad wraps his arms around you, stroking your hair. “Is that it? Or is there more?” You sniffle and pause before you start again, “He said that Jisung is pathetic and he seems like the type of guy to cheat.” The idea of Jisung cheating on you stings. You cry even harder as your dad tries to calm you. “He doesn’t mean it baby, he just wants to protect you. He’s like your older brother.” Your dad tries to make sense of Donghyuck’s comments because they seemed quite out of character. He knew you and Donghyuck liked to tease each other but this felt different. He’d never seen you cry like this over Donghyuck before. “He’s not my older brother. Mark is, and he would never say anything like that. It was just mean, and what truth is it based on? Now I just feel worried.” You grip on to your dads hand, “I know, but it’s not based on any truth so you have nothing to worry about. Jisung is a great guy and I can tell how much you like each other. Donghyuck just went a bit far I think.” He places a kiss on your forehead before there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” your dad says before Donghyuck enters the room, a very sorry look on his face. Your dad gets up and leaves you and Donghyuck in your room together. Donghyuck sits on your bed, very awkwardly, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry,” he starts with, it’s probably a pretty good start, he thinks, “I didn’t mean any of that. I just want to protect you. I’m not sure why. I just do. It feels strange because I hate you so much.” You mumble out an “it’s fine,” and giggle softly. “I hate you too and I accept your apology. Now leave me alone weirdo.” You push him off your bed. “Before I go, I just wanted to say that I really am sorry, I know you may not think I am but I am.” He closes the door behind him as he walks out.

When Mark comes home he jokingly reassures you it’s just because Hyuck is jealous because he’s in love with you. You giggle and decide to go downstairs and to watch TV with your family and you notice Donghyuck is still there. You thought he might have gone home after your argument but he’s still lounging in your living room with your parents. Wow they must really love him, you think, he’s just made their daughter cry and he’s still sitting on their couches watching TV with them. You decide to sit on the same couch as Donghyuck, to let him know that you have actually forgiven him. He feels a lot better now.

STRIKE 5: HE’S TRAPPED US IN HERE?

“Happy birthday babe!” Yuna attacks you in a hug as she walks through your door. Your friends had decided to throw you a huge party for your eighteenth, considering you had just broken up with Jisung and you needed cheering up. You had ended things with Jisung because you both wanted different things. Plus you were off to different colleges in the fall and you didn’t want to do long distance. Jisung was really upset but understood, you also understood when he declined your offer to come to your party, which felt a bit awkward because you still agreed to be friends.

The past year, things have changed a lot. There was a shift in your relationship with Hyuck. You’d almost become friends (emphasis on almost), but that didn’t stop you annoying each other and throwing hurtful comments each other’s way. You could confirm you still hated him, but maybe a little bit less. You still argued like crazy, you even made him cry once. But it just felt different. You’d always forgive each other and start fresh again the next day which was unheard of a couple of years ago. Of course he’d invited himself to your party, along with a few of him and Mark’s other friends, Jaemin, Jeno and Renjun. You’d met them countless times before and had a decent relationship so it didn’t feel weird having them at your party. Yuna had mentioned several times that she was seriously crushing on Jaemin and decided tonight was her night to make a move which you of course supported her on, they were both amazingly sweet people.

Donghyuck had bought you a real gift this year. Well, not really but it kind of made sense. He’d bought you a case of diet coke of course, but he’d also printed the photo of you and him in the car on the way to the lake all those years ago and framed it. You almost cried at the gesture before you noticed the drawings of the stink lines and the devil horns he’d drawn on you. You rolled your eyes and placed the photo on the fireplace mantel.

It wasn’t long before you began to feel tipsy, and with tipsiness came confidence, and sometimes, for you, a more argumentative side came to the surface. When Donghyuck had given you your gift you were sober so your reaction was minor. However, when you saw it hours later when drunk, your feelings on it had changed. You felt angry. Why did he have to do that? You picked up the picture from the mantelpiece and headed towards Donghyuck who was chatting to his friends. You shoved the picture into his chest. “Why would you do this? Why do you hate me so much?” You drunkenly slurred. It was hard to hear over the music so Donghyuck pulled you aside away from his friends. “What do you mean? I thought you liked it?” He smirked. That made you even angrier. “Why would I like this? I smell lovely and I’m an angel? You’re the devil! God I hate you!” You stumbled and grabbed onto the kitchen counter to stable yourself. “Careful.” Donghyuck muttered. “Careful? Why do you care?” You jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re drunk. Let me help you.” He tried to put an arm around you to support you but you shoved him off. “Don’t try to help me. I thought you hated me? Why are you trying to help me?” You shoved his chest again. Quite hard this time pushing him back. His friends had began to notice the interaction and had called Mark over who was watching from the sidelines. When you pushed Donghyuck, Mark approached you both. “Hey don’t fight today guys. It’s supposed to be a fun day! You’re eighteen!” Mark exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood. “Shut up, I’m so annoyed at Hyuck right now.” Mark gave Donghyuck a confused look to which Donghyuck shrugged his shoulders. “Come on let’s get you sat down.” Mark tried to help you too but you shoved him off. “No I wanna fight!” You tried to get Mark off again but failed when he grabbed you hard. “Get off!”

“You’re really drunk you need to sober up.” Mark tried to explain but you were too drunk to listen. You just wanted to fight with Donghyuck. “I need to have it out with Hyuck!” Mark helped you up the stairs. Donghyuck was in tow with a glass of water. “You’re going to regret it, you’re not thinking straight.” Mark laid you down on your bed then tried to sit you up so you could drink some water. It was then that you felt very emotional. Tears began streaming down your face, Mark quickly wiped them away and comforted you. He knew it was just because you were drunk and your emotions were all over the place. “Hey, stay with her a minute I’m going to get some more water.” Mark muttered to Donghyuck as you began to relax again, sitting up again the headboard of your bed. Donghyuck sat down on your bed as Mark exited the room, shutting the door behind him. You then both heard a click, it sounded like he’d locked the door behind him. Donghyuck then got up and tried to open the door, but couldn’t. “He’s trapped us in here, why has he done that?” Donghyuck was really confused, he tried to bang on the door for help but no one could hear over the music. Mark then came back a few seconds later. But not unlocking the door. “You guys need to talk. This is getting ridiculous. Just, just talk.” He sounded so defeated. “

“What’s he talking about Hyuck?” Your eyes were still glassy and they looked confused. “Why are you calling me Hyuck now? It’s always been Donghyuck.” He questioned you. “I don’t know I’m drunk.” You shrugged. “Okay.” He sat down again. “I don’t think Mark is going to let us out anytime soon. So let’s talk.” He turned his head towards you, looking you in the eye. “What about?” You said softly. “I think Mark might know something. Actually yeah he does because I told him so I think it’s about that.” Donghyuck looks down at his fingers as he plays with them. “What did you tell him?” Your voice cracks but still sounds so soft. Donghyuck falls silent but even in your drunk state you sort of know what’s coming. You stay silent for a while.

“I think I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a while now.” He mumbles. You’re not really sure what to say. “I think you breaking up with Jisung really solidified it for me. I felt so relieved and almost happy again. Sorry I know that’s insensitive.” He mumbles towards the end again. “I know it’s super confusing. I’m sorry.” He gets up again to sit on your floor, his head low and his hands clasped together. You stay silent and he continues, “You’re just really frustrating. You’re so beautiful and so smart and you’re everything I want. I don’t know why we started being mean to each other but I so badly wanted it to stop but I was so scared of my feelings I just carried on.”

“I don’t know what to say.” You finally break your silence. “It’s okay you don’t have to say anything.” He says. “No, I should. I want to. I had, have, feelings for you too. For a long time. They confused me too, I didn’t know what to do with them so I just continued being mean.” You played with your blanket, looking down too. “What do we do now?” You ask, looking up at him. He looks at you too. “I don’t know.” He gets up to sit next to you, and grabs your hand. “This is a start I guess.” You gently smile at him, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I still can’t believe Mark trapped us in here while I’m drunk.” You say leaning your head back in a pillow. “I think he knew that was the only way I’d be confident enough to speak to you, about this. He planned it all.” You mumbled, your eyes beginning to shut. Donghyuck stands up and his hand leaves yours. “No, stay with me.” Your voice desperate. He slowly slips into bed next to you. You lean your head on his shoulder and begin to fall asleep.

NOT SO STRIKE 6: THE FAMILY VACATION

“Stop touching my leg I’m too hot.” You push Hyuck away, but he doesn’t move, he instead presses a wet sloppy kiss to your cheek. You roll your eyes and just give in, resting your head on his shoulder. He pulled his phone out, snapping a picture and quickly sets it as his lock screen. You can see your mom smiling at you both in the rear view mirror. Mark is next to you, he feels pretty happy that his little sister gets on so well with his best friend. Maybe a little too well, he feels. But he knew that the ‘hatred’ you felt for each other was just confusion. He saw the way you looked at each other all these years. He saw the little confused scrunched up faces you’d make when Hyuck gave you a compliment to annoy you. Or after a fight, the heartbreak he could see in Donghyuck’s eyes. They’re just so stupid.

“Put me down!” You squeak as Donghyuck slings you over his shoulder, walking towards the lake. “Never! This is our first lake trip as lovers, we’re gonna go make out in the lake!” You slap his back, “What is wrong with you? And lovers? Gross! I’m not making out with you in the lake!” But you did, and it was awesome.

#haechan #haechan au #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan blurbs #haechan fanfic #nct dream #nct #nct 127 #nct haechan #lee donghyuk x reader #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #nct dream au #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fanfic #nct dream blurbs

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jovialmoonprincess · 4 months

Text

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 7)

Loving him was Red

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within / In Silence, We Crumble / Loving him was Red

Summary: Y/N meets the mysterious woman again and ends up accepting a proposal from Coryo.

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Y/N was so hurried that, upon getting off the train, she barely noticed the mysterious woman waiting for her at the station.

"Y/N," the woman called, and she recognized her instantly.

"Sorry?" The woman's appearance, deeply engraved in her mind, evoked recent memories.

"How are you?"

"I have so many questions," Y/N said as she approached the woman, somewhat desperate. This month had been the most confusing of her life.

"I know, dear. Come with me." The woman guided Y/N to the quieter part of the station. "You can ask."

They sat close. Y/N wanted to know many things: the woman's name, if she was from the future or the present, what her future would be like, among others.

"Am I doing something right? Has anything really changed?" She didn't know if the woman could know that, but it was the question that tormented her the most. And it didn't seem like the woman would stay for long.

"Y/N, everything has changed since the moment we first saw each other." The vague answer didn't please Y/N. The woman noticed the girl's confused expression and added, "Everything I showed you happened over and over again. I know it by heart." The woman spoke as if it were something tiresome for her to repeat.

"Coriolanus wins the Games. He's intelligent and cunning. But the real game begins when he is sent to District 12 as a Peacekeeper. He tries to create a new life, a new image, but the past cannot be erased." The vision of Coriolanus shooting the birds resurfaced in Y/N's mind. She remained silent, allowing the woman to continue.

"He gets involved with Lucy Gray. A romance that seems destined, but things fall apart when Lucy discovers Coriolanus's role in the death of Sejanus Plinth, her best friend. Unknowingly, he sealed Sejanus's fate by denouncing him to the Capitol."

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of betrayal and tragedy. "He… he betrays his own friend?"

The woman nodded with regret. "Coriolanus's past haunts him, and Sejanus's shadow hangs over him. Lucy Gray, discovering the truth, can't overcome the betrayal. Their relationship crumbles, leaving Coriolanus with the weight of his choices."

Y/N was immersed in dark thoughts. "This is horrible. He condemned his own friend to death?"

"The line between ally and enemy, loyalty and betrayal, is thin in the Hunger Games and in the Capitol. Coriolanus, in his quest for survival, will pay a high price. But you, Y/N, have a role to play in all of this." Y/N's eyes widened in surprise.

The woman smiled enigmatically. "The future is woven by many threads, and each choice, each action, creates a new plot. You have the power to change things, to influence events. The question is: what will you do with this information?" Y/N felt a knot forming in her stomach. Faced with a crossroads, she understood that the choices she made would shape not only the destiny of Coriolanus Snow but also her own.

"I…" she murmured, "I don't know."

The woman reached out, gently touching Y/N's shoulder. "The answers will unfold at the right moment. Keep in mind that life is not just a dichotomy between black and white; it moves in shades of gray, where true choices manifest. Trust your intuition and strengthen yourself. When the boy is close, you will need to take a firm stand, without concessions. Treat him as the antagonist that destiny will turn him into. Don't tolerate his selfish actions, but also avoid closing the doors to the possibility of understanding. Find the balance between assertiveness and discernment, as it is in that space that true influences will shape the course of events."

Y/N involuntarily closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the woman was no longer there. Leaving Y/N alone with her reflections and the weight of the revelations she carried. The destiny, now, was more intertwined than ever, and Y/N felt the urgency to make decisions that could alter the course of events.

She then thought about what the woman said, about what ended Coryo and Lucy Gray's relationship. If she could prevent Coriolanus from betraying Sejanus, that could change everything. However, she wondered how she could achieve such a feat. She wouldn't have the possibility to follow him to the District after the Games. She needed to find a way to influence him before, to the point where, in addition to questioning the idea, he would choose not to betray Sejanus.

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

Y/N woke up in her bed as usual, the events lingering in her mind like an enigmatic dream. She got up, changed her clothes, and noticed her nightstand. There was a glass of water with the two roses she had taken from the boy. She followed her morning routine and hurried out of her apartment towards the block of classrooms.

After class, she went straight to the study room, where she found only a blond boy sitting at one of the tables. She thought about leaving as quickly as possible, but he was already standing, calling her.

"Y/N!" The blond exclaimed, interrupting her.

Y/N didn't need to talk to him now; she wanted some time to think. Besides, she had slept very poorly that night.

"I need to talk to you." Oh, now he wanted to talk? A wave of nervousness washed over the girl. Did each of his calls demand an immediate response, as if ignoring them could unleash disastrous consequences? Her patience was about to run out, but if there was a chance to help the boy, it would be on her terms, staying true to herself. She decided to ignore the calls.

Coriolanus was faster, grabbing her arm, making her turn involuntarily. For a moment, she forgot that one step of the boy was equivalent to three of hers.

"I wanted to apologize," he said, like an orphaned puppy in a pet shop wanting to be adopted. Too bad because Y/N didn't believe.

"Do you think words fix everything, don't you? You can hit someone, then just do your tricks, flip your hair, and it's over?" She gestured while venting. "I don't believe in any word that comes out of your mouth, Coriolanus. You lie. You deceive. How can you? Talking about the districts, criticizing their way of dealing with grief." She seemed genuinely hurt by this.

"I know, I know, and I've reflected a lot on it since that day. I was wrong."

"There should be a District 14 just for people like you, shallow and soulless." Y/N's voice was full of provocation. "You and Clemensia can be mayor and first lady there, what do you think?" The boy just laughed. Wouldn't the Capitol be that place?

"How did you know? I'm here in person to invite you to be my first lady." The boy approached dangerously with a smile on his face.

"Well, I refuse. We don't make a beautiful couple," the girl teased. This made the boy approach even more, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her closer.

"Unfortunately, I have to disagree with you," he replied quietly, his voice raspier than usual, staring at her rosy lips without disguising it. Y/N's breath was already uneven.

"Sorry for my harsh words. I don't expect you to forgive me immediately, but I ask you to pay more attention to my actions from now on. Because it will be through them that I will redeem myself."

"Let's see," the girl replied. Now it was the boy's turn to put a rose behind her ear. Another one for his collection of roses in her apartment. One thing caught her attention: the rose in her hair was red. Could she see it in her peripheral vision?

"Red?" Snow's roses were always white. Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by Coriolanus's gesture. There was something different in the boy's expression, a sincerity she had never seen before. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was trying to change.

"I thought it would suit you better," he said. She really wanted to believe that the boy had gone up to the rooftop and chosen a special rose to give to the girl. But it was very hard to believe. What color would he give to Lucy Gray? The girl stepped back suddenly. "I wanted it to be different this time," Coriolanus admitted, his serious gaze meeting hers. "Snow's roses are white, but… I thought maybe it was time to change."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by the explanation. Coriolanus Snow, the boy she knew, was defying family traditions. Was this a genuine sign of change?

"Coryo, I know you had just come from the arena. It was very difficult. But you didn't lie. You said something that was really inside you. And that's what scares me the most." Coryo didn't know how to respond; he wanted her to believe him. He wanted to retort, speak, shout, anything that would make the girl stay there, but Y/N had already moved away and continued toward the exit.

Coriolanus watched Y/N walk away, feeling the weight of her words and the complexity of the emotions the girl carried. A sudden impulse made him follow her, determined to defy expectations. "Wait, Y/N," he called, "I know words alone don't change the past, but I'm willing to prove that actions speak louder. Accept this: one night, where I can show you that I'm not just empty words."

He seemed really desperate.

"Okay," was all the girl said.

"Saturday night, I'll pick you up at 7 pm."

_______________________

Sorry for the delay, these days have been very busy for me. I had a huge creative block. This chapter is more for contextualization but the next one will have a lot of emotion and fluff <3

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