#“i never meant you any harm- but your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm”

[snurtsnurtcreations]

Hey. Hey. Shhhh... listen to I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons. And now try not to imagine it playing in the background as fed Logan and ghost David are fighting. Try not to imagine the flashbacks of their childhood and early days in the military, sweet soft sibling moments. Try not to imagine Logan holding David's dying form in his arms and crying as he realizes what he's done. Try not to imagine David whispering 'well now you've won' as he dies

[yelenasdiary]

what if i have a drabble idea?

yelena x reader

TW self harm trigger warning tho

after the date things get a little heated and it all brings the two into the bedroom. the only thing is that r forgets about the scars on her thighs, and when yelena takes off her pants, silence falls. r starts mumbling, worried about Yelena's reaction, but Yelena starts saying very nice things that warm R's heart and make her feel loved!!!

yeah well, I hope you can do something about it lol

love u, byee

Drabble || My Beautiful Love

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: Yelena assures you that she loves you no matter what.

Angst, Fluff, Suggestive Themes

Warnings: Light Smut, 18+ ONLY! Minors & Men DNI! Mentions of Self-Harm & Scars, Mentions of Depression & Dark Thoughts. This is not proof read or corrected! | 0.4K

Translations: detka (baby), голубь (dove), moya krasivaya lyubov' (my beautiful love), milyy (darling),

AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope this brings comfort to anybody who needs it. Remember that you are never alone and if you ever need somebody to talk too, my DMs/Asks are always open x

From the front door to the bedroom, the steamy make-out session didn't break. Yelena carried you to the bedroom, your legs wrapped round her waist and your hands tangled in her locks of blonde hair. Gently, she laid you down on to the bed, her lips making their way to your neck making you moan softly at her touch.

Her lips kept you distracted while her hands worked your clothing, you managed to pull her t-shirt off and throw it to the floor before she sat back and slowly pulled your pants off, adding them to the small pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

"Detka" Yelena said ever so softly. Your eyes dropped to your thighs and quickly you pulled the throw blanket over your legs, muttering things Yelena couldn't quite make out. She notice the way you were doing your best to blink back the tears that were building up. "голубь" she spoke once more, moving closer to you, taking your hands into hers, "please don't hide from me" she added.

Silence filled the room before you looked up at her. Without hesitation she kissed you deeply, "moya krasivaya lyubov' , I'm not mad with you and I don't think any less of you" she said, slowly removing the blanket from your legs, "we all have scars" she added.

"B-but mine are...I did that" you replied in a stutter. Yelena gently cupped your face, "you are stronger than anybody I have ever met, ever know for that fact" her thumb gently stroking your cheek, "why didn't you talk to me?" she asked.

You shrugged, "I don't like to worry you with my issues. You have must more important things to worry about than my stupid depressed mind" you replied.

"Detka, nothing is more important to me than you being happy and healthy and that you're safe. I would take a bullet for you if it meant you were going to be okay. Worry me with your mind detka, tell me all those thoughts that keep you up and I will do whatever I can in my power to make you feel better"

Her words meant more to you than you knew it, she pulled you into her arms, hugging you tightly while she whispered sweet nothings to you. She truely was the best, somebody who misunderstood but knew you inside and out and cared about you more than you realised.

"Lena, if it's okay with you...could we just cuddle and watch a movie tonight? I...I j-just want to fall asleep in your arms" you asked. Yelena smiled softly, "of course we can my angel, what movie would you like to watch?" she asked before getting out of bed and getting pjs for the two of you.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | @axolotllover225 | @koinsss | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | 

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[snailsgoingdowntown]

Title: Union

Yandere! The ‘General!’ x fem! Reader!

(Mr Villain's Day Off)

Warnings: general yandere themes, toxic relationship, blood and slight(?) gore, violence (reader’s neck is bitten), idealization/fantasies of murder, implied possessiveness, and obsessiveness, implied codependent behavior.

I took liberation with this and created the custom of the General’s species biting the neck of their lover as some sort of vow. Like with Omega Au.

He’s out of character in this lmao.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/LURKERS/DNI

Disclaimer: I do not support or encourage any of the toxic and harmful behaviors/thoughts that may take place in this piece of fiction. It should not be romanticized or even considered normal as it is both extremely toxic and dangerous.

Word count: 1261k

---

His teeth hurt.

Sharp and pearly white, now stained with your blood. Your nails claw into his shoulders, his trench coat softening the impact. He’s more like a vampire and not an alien, you think. This twisted sense of… union isn’t really your thing. Not when it involves teeth and blood, the ritual being repeated once every other year, something that is expected and welcomed by his species.

You wouldn’t have minded it if you had decided to stay. But you do because you wanted out, tired of his little secrets, the long nights, the hidden phone calls. You would have rather that he was cheating on you, an unfaithful bastard who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Instead, you got an alien who didn’t understand what ‘no’ meant.

A little too faithful, too love stricken to see past that beautiful, beautiful tinted rose filter. And he wanted the same from you, it seems. With sharp teeth and an iron grip, he held you in place, desperate after an hour of pleas that were so unlike him.

One of his hands held the back of your neck, keeping you in place. His ring feels cold, his blunt nails feel sharp, he’s stronger, bigger than you. Resistance was futile.

His teeth dig deeper, rougher. Tears form in your eyes, running down your face in big, fat streaks, sobbing into the collar of his coat. Everything is a blur, and his free hand rubs circles into your back, attempting to soothe you. It doesn’t, it makes you feel worse because it reminds you that this man is not just a monster but has feelings and guilt like everyone else –

You genuinely, genuinely hate this alien? Man? You despise him, wanted to scalp him alive, to stab a knife through his heart until the only color you could see was red. But you would never be able to do that. Nor will you be able to drive a knife through your own heart just to escape your dammed faith.

“I’m sorry, please endure it for a bit longer…,” he gasps out before he sinks his teeth into your neck again. Your own dug into his hair, fingers pulling at his roots. The tears don’t stop and neither does his bite.

“Hurts – it hurts!” sobbing, you still attempt to push and pull his head away, but to no avail. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, breathing, and able to think. Crimson runs down your neck, stains your pretty lacy white shirt, all the while the man enjoys his sweet, sweet time with you. Like enjoying a juicy steak.

“…Hah… it’s done,” his tone, despite being comforting, was a shrill scream in your ear. His tongue pokes out, only to lick the wound, saliva mixing in with blood. It’s slimy and roughish, with a squishiness to it. Like a warm wet rag pressed against your neck. The only difference being it’s an organic tongue and not some fabric.

“… I’m sorry,” another lick, another circle rubbed onto your back. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts –

“I know it hurts… I forgot how… fragile humans could be. I’m sorry.” Too tired to fight back anymore, you fall limp in his embrace. Your jaw goes slack, eyelids too heavy to keep open. The void is calling for you.

You should have rejected his help, that day. You should have carried those heavy bags up the stairs that day, even if it meant you would have pulled a muscle or two. You should have ignored him when you kept running into him, both of you surprised to see the other so frequently. You should have kept your mouth shut and feelings hidden, your confession forgotten and your first kiss nonexistent.

Should have done this, should have done that – it’s too late to wallow in the past. The mirror cracked long ago, just like your sense of self. Like your trust in the one person who should have been your ‘everything.’ Whatever that was.

Something you realized was harmful for you, but he refused to acknowledge it. To accept it.

You should have rejected his invitation to his apartment. To get your stuff back. You should have avoided him instead of still trusting him once he let his true identity slip through that tongue of his. How naïve and stupid of you.

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

“I haven’t felt this way about anyone, before.”

Neither have you.

“You make me rethink my stance on humans.” He sits you down on his couch, reaching for the medical supplies sitting at the side. He prepared for this. He’s always been ready for this.

You never had a say-so in the matter. How cruel.

“You make me question myself, and what I’m fighting for.” Your eyes shut close, a towel – wet and warm – pressed against the open wound. He holds it there for a good while. Assuring that his prized ‘lover’ would be patched up in no time.

“Our customs are different from yours. It’s painful, even for us. But you don’t have to relive this pain.” You’re vaguely aware of the cotton ball, of the scent of medical ointments and the towel being pressed against the bleeding wound once more. You’re too tired to open your eyes, but you fear you might die if you don’t.

“… You should… have let me go.” It’s broken and weak, almost less than a whisper, but you manage to talk. It’s painful and took extreme amounts of effort, but you talked. You almost wish you would die – but the fear of meeting nothing but a black abyss on the other side of the road scares you more than this fiend.

He doesn’t say anything. Just tends to the wound that he inflected on you like it was just another Tuesday night. You never asked for this. You would have never asked for this, the pain, the betrayal he’s hidden from you these past two years.

You almost wish he only said ‘yes’ just to use you. A sick twisted sense of humor, a past time he could always forget at a later date. Amusement that would grow boring, dull. A toy he could have left in an open field, neither destroying it nor loving it.

If this was a romance story, then this would have been the best ending. Two crossed-star-lovers who put aside their differences to be together. One changing his view on the ‘enemy’ because his sweetheart was from that group. They fail to show the ugly side of ‘love.’

You had chosen a rotten apple and now it has poisoned you.

“… I know that you must hate me.”

You do, you hate him as much as you fear him.

“But I…”

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

His phone goes off exactly three times before he fishes it out of his coat pocket, a sneer displayed on his mouth. His teeth show, dyed red. Still sharper than a knife.

You don’t get to see the caller ID.

“– General! Listen, I know that it is your off day – “

“Get to the point. I’m giving you five seconds before I hang up.”

You don’t get to hear the conversation, either. You could barely feel the wet rag dabbing your neck. Or the smell of herbs. You wonder if he would let you die just like this. Or if he would find a way to ‘save’ you.

Nothing matters anymore, you suppose.

Not when the ‘General’ decided that you were lovelier than a rose and brighter than the stars amongst a darken sky.

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

How abt Childe fanfic that he find out you're doing SH? Also, feel free to ignore this request :)

I never meant to hurt you though- Childe x reader

I pushed a lot back but I can't forget it T/w- Self harm, petnames, angst but sorta fluff Summary- Childe finds out you've been sh again.

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“Hey Hun, do you remember if we have more flour? I can’t find any.” Childe knocked on the bathroom door.

You quickly shot up like a deer in headlight, if he found out what you were doing… “I..I um just a sec.”

Childe became suspicious of what you were doing in there, you had been in there for a while and he had just been busy making a cake for your birthday. Lately you had seemed a little stress with work and everything else that was going on. You never seemed to want his help though. You opened the door coming out in a too big hoodie that was most likely his.

Childe stared at you, it was the middle of summer. Why were you wearing a hoodie? He asked about it and the quickest lie you could think of was its cold.

“Maybe you're catching a cold? It's pretty warm right now.”

You only shook your head not wanting to speak in case your voice cracked. You knew it was obvious what you were doing, he just seemed to be slightly oblivious.

“Sweetie? Can you take off the hoodie? I want to check your temperature. To make sure you’re not coming down with something.”

You quickly tried to think of an excuse. But what could you do? He was just trying to look out for you, but you couldn’t take the hoodie off not after…

“Y/n please, i just want to check your temperature. It’ll just be easier.”

But you couldn’t take it off, he would see what happened and then… Then what would he do? Would he get angry, would he say you're an attention seeker? Would he be nasty about it?

“It's fine can’t you just do it with the hoodie on?”

“It's a lot easier without it trust me, I've taken care of Teucer enough times to know.”

At this point he had backed you into a corner. What were you to do? All you could really do was take off the hoodie… So you did.

You prayed to the Archon he didn’t see the cut, they were in pretty obvious places. “Hey what are these cuts?” It took him a second before he realised. “Oh…”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, like he’d failed you. Like he hadn’t protected you, it was his job after all. And he failed, well he felt like he did anyway. You looked away almost like you were shy, but you were scared… Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you tried to hold them back so you didn’t make it worse.

“Hey hey, Y/n don’t cry.” His voice was sweet like honey. “Its okay…”

It didn’t sound okay. You had promised not to do it again, but here you were. You had promised and you thought it was the one thing you could do. But alas not. You did the exact opposite and cried, he wasn’t sure what to do in the situation. All he felt he could so was cuddle you and tell you how much you mattered to him.

“Y/n I love you so much, don’t forget that. Never ever forget that. Its okay that you did it again, we can work on not doing it again. I need you to talk to me when you feel like doing that.” You could see the pain in his eyes. “It hurts you, I don’t like seeing you hurt my love."

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@pandragonsoul

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hi!! May I req a fic where the boys accidently say something that upsets the gn!reader causing them to cry(like how they arent home now or something about them failing,etc), how would Malleus,Riddle, Vil and Azul react?

Hi, thank you for the ask! Oof this one's gonna be a bit of an angst. Short fics for these characters too, hope you like them!

Malleus, Riddle, Vil, Azul x reader: Let the Tears Fall

Malleus

He didn't mean to cause you any harm, that was the last thing he wanted to do while you were with him. He mentioned briefly that he was happy you were with him, in Twisted Wonderland of course, saying that he doesn't "mind if you were stuck here." He meant it in the most literal sense, that he would love for you to stay with him forever, never to return back to your world because he loves you so much. But that translated into possessiveness, something you didn't want in your relationship. Malleus laughed a little when he saw your pale face, he asked what was wrong, and you didn't say anything. Instead, you sat there, looking down at your knees as the winds caused the leaves to rustle in the forest. "Did I upset you?" Malleus asked, trying to reach for you but you just shook your head. You smiled, trying to hold the tears in, looking off into the distance as if to focus on something far away. "No...nothing I just...miss my world a bit...this place sort of reminds me of it," you said. A tear slid from your eye, and you were quick to wipe it off before he saw but the fae didn't miss it. He felt a chill run down his spine, he didn't think he could ever be a source of sadness to you. He never wanted to be such a thing, not when you always made him feel warm and loved. "Y/n, I'm...I'm sorry I spoke out of line," he said, wanting to take back his words. You tried to reassure him that you were fine, but your eyes still seemed hurt. Malleus would have a hard time forgetting that.

Riddle

"Once again, rose I told you it's not written in this way," he sounded pissed. Riddle was never patient with anyone, but when it came to you it seemed like he was a bit better at holding his temper. That was until today rolled by, a week before your exams and you were studying with him. You flinched as he slammed his notebook down and walked over to a chalkboard to demonstrate what he meant. You wrote down exactly what he wrote, listened to his words, but his tone kept making your heart race not in a good way. It was a panicked rhythm, something like you knew you were in trouble. This was your boyfriend for Great Seven's sake, what was going on? Riddle shouted your name again when you didn't answer him as you were lost in your thoughts. That was the last straw, you mumbled out the answer, knowing it was incorrect but not wanting to test his patience anymore. "L-look, I don't think I can do this anymore," you whimpered, and that made Riddle stop. His eyes widened, he realized what he just did. He yelled, yelled at you out of all people. He was acting like his mother, the person whom he despised so much yet ended up becoming a reflection of in this moment. "Y/n, I didn't mean to shout like that, I'm so sorry," his voice softened, he quickly went to you to take you in his arms. But you were limp, your eyes glistened with tears. While no words left your mouth, the small drops that fell onto your notebook was enough for him to understand the horrible mistake he had done.

Vil

A perfectionist at heart, he didn't let anyone escape his scrutiny. Even you, whom he always praised as being perfect in heart and body. He didn't care if you didn't have his exact look, as long as you were confident in your fashion choices he loved it. But this time, he wasn't feeling too much like himself, he had seen too many manager texts in a day, a lot of stressful classes, and now you were doing everything but taking care of yourself. You were up late studying for a test, causing not only physical health problems but also mental health problems. He wanted to tell you kindly to stop but he didn't have the energy. Grabbing your books, he snapped at you. "Get to bed, what are you trying to do sabotage yourself? I thought we went over this last week, how quickly do you dispose of my advice?" What he didn't realize was that you weren't doing that well either. You were sick, you were stressed, you were getting over a lot of hardships about being literally teleported away from home. This was the last thing you wanted to go through, and all you could do at that moment was..."Y/n? Are you crying?" Vil reached his hand to your face, lifting it up so he could see you. You tried to look away, but the tears slid down your cheeks and you made a small whimper. "I'm sorry, I don't want to cause trouble but...it's been a hard week," you try to explain. You think Vil would scold you, but instead, he looks at you with wide eyes, almost a look of fear. "No, I should be the one to apologize, it was rude of me to act this way," he wrapped his arms around you. He let you cry on his shoulder, tell him everything you wanted to tell him. Vil wouldn't let you bundle up your emotions anymore.

Azul

Azul didn't have anything against you, but he was quick to make grudges. He could cling onto random actions or phrases people said to use against them when he needed. It just so happened to be one of those cases. You were already in a tense environment with him. He didn't speak to you for a few days, and you were busy dealing with homesickness along with all of Ramshackle's issues. He casually had to bring up how you weren't helping him at the lounge, nor were you checking up on him as you usually did. What a selfish dorm leader, but you didn't have the energy to fight back. "Look, I'm just saying that as long as you're here, and Crowley remains as the headmaster, you won't be going home. Might as well toss that out the window," he said as he walked back into his office, leaving you in the lounge to clean the bar by yourself. This was the last straw for you, the one thing, the one hope you had was home and he had to jab at it. You tried to calm yourself down, but the tears just started. Soon, you were wiping the glassware while letting the tears fall all over the counter. Azul wouldn't have heard you because he usually listens to music as he's in his study, but this time he left the door open to see what you would do. Hearing slight whimpers and sniffles caused him to jump out the door, a worried and panicked look on his face. There was no way he just said something that hurt you, no he was better than those kinds of people. He went through hurtful words, he shouldn't be repeating that! "Darling, is something wrong? Was it something I said?" he asked, carefully approaching you. "Ah, it's nothing," you shook your head, trying to hide it but he wrapped his arms around you. "No, no it's absolutely something I should know. It was what I said wasn't it?" this caused you to cry harder. He started to feel tears himself. As he told you how sorry he was, he wiped your tears away and told himself he would never throw words at you.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Is it alright to have Yandere Jun with mermaid reader who wants to see humans and then leave.🙂😳?

I didn’t forget, it was just difficult for me to picture this. So happy mermay y’all! @scr3amingqueen I finally made a story for your fan art 💕🧜‍♀️🧜

Yandere Baki Head Canons

Yandere Jun Guevaru x Female Mermaid Reader

Jun Guevaru

When Jim finally escaped prison, he returned to the sea. His heart filled with adventure lust

Jun decided to explore uncharted waters and low and behold, he catches a glimpse of a colorful tail of a fish he’s never seen before. A very big fish

He encourages his men to set out nets to try to catch that colorful fish. Maybe it was a new species? Either way, it may sell for a pretty penny

But this fish was incredibly smart. It evaded all of the traps and sometimes, Jun swore he’d seen the upper half of a woman. He brushed it off as him getting a little crazy from being on the water for too long

Then the day comes that he’s finally able to capture that fish and… it wasn’t a fish at all but a mermaid. You were a mermaid that was just curious of the strange creatures on the large vessel, you never meant them any harm

Mermaids were stories of sailors who have been gone for too long on the sea, Jun had no idea that they’d be true. That this beautiful creature that laid out on his ship deck in front of him was real. Yet here you were sobbing in front of the sailors, unaware of the pearls that fell from your eyes instead of tears. A jack pot

Jun has his men put you in a tank of salt water below the ship deck and he makes sure that they make you cry a lot by scaring you. The crew members slap their hands against your tank and make loud noises to get more pearls to fall from your eyes. You’re miserable

A week goes by and you become so incredibly homesick. You miss your family and friends. If only you hadn’t been so curious… then maybe you wouldn’t be so hungry and sad… maybe a song would make you feel better?

It’s late at night and all of the sailors are sleeping except Jun. He’s in his captain quarters trying to figure out where to sell you and that’s when he hears it. The most enchanting melody he’s ever heard

Jun rushes to your tank, his eyes widening at how gaunt your cheeks look compared to when he first found you. Had his crew members not been feeding you like they were supposed to? He’s sad you stop your song and swim to the far corner to your tank. You’re afraid of him… and Jun’s heart twists. He doesn’t know why it hurts him to see the fear in your eyes but it does…

Jun punishes the crew members for their mistreatment of you and takes it upon himself to care for you. It’s the first kindness you get from your captors. You’re extremely hesitant of Jun but you begin to warm up to him over the course of the next few weeks

And you finally speak with him. He’s shocked to learn that you can speak and even more shocked that you understand him. You two begin to converse for hours and he finds you extremely charming. Jun is also thrilled to finally know your name (and you his)

You share with him about how mermaids can gain legs if they drink human blood but you joke with Jun that it’s just a folk tale amongst the other mer. Jun begins to think about it. He really enjoys your company… Jun realizes he’s in love with you. Madly, utterly in love

One of Jun’s crew members tries to touch you while you’re in your tank. You scream loudly in fear. Your scream alerting Jun, the pirate captain running to your defense and quickly giving the member a quick death. He didn’t hesitate to slit their throat. Their blood splashing all over your face and some even got into your mouth…

Imagine Jun’s surprise to see that you now had the lower half of a human woman? Legs and all? He quickly dresses you in his shirt and carries you to his quarters before anyone can see you. Jun lays you on his soft bed with a bright smile

You’re confused on why Jun keeps pressing his mouth to your body as you lay there. Why he’s telling you how much he loves you and how he’s so happy that you can now receive his love. It’s a strange change in the man you’ve come to call your friend to now call your lover

Jun saves that crew member’s blood for you so you can keep your legs. Jun wants you to live with him as a human forever. Jun tells you his wishes of you becoming his wife and even the mother to his children

There’s no hope for escape and Jun convinced his crew to make sure you never escape. That you are to be referred to as Missus Guevara

[querkynchaotic]

i gave you all x crimson rivers

SPOILERS crimson rivers chapter 50 !!!!!!!!!!!!!

for those of you who have read it :

here are the lyrics to i gave you all by mumford and sons, interwoven with quotes from chapter 50. because that song fucks me up, and that chapter fucks me up, so you know. might as well make a deal out of it.

don't thank me for the tears ;)

Rip the earth in two with your mind

"Betrayal is betrayal is betrayal!" Regulus shouts

Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires

"Grow up, Regulus." 

"You won't let me!"

I never meant you any harm

"I was a kid, too." 

But your tears feel warm as they fall on my forearm

"The one who didn't grow up is you, Sirius, not me. You're still that kid trying to protect me at every turn, but I got older, and I learned to take care of myself, and I don't need you anymore." 

But close my eyes for a while

"Shut up," Sirius says reflexively, his mouth dry, heart thundering hard in his chest. You do, he thinks desperately. You do need me. You'll always need me. 

Force from the world a patient smile

"What I regret most isn't that you broke your promise, Sirius," Regulus continues. "It's that I wasted time caring enough to ask for a promise from you at all." 

How can you say that your truth is better than ours?

"And I don't anymore," Regulus presses on. "Care, that is."

Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms

Sirius' mind just—doesn't accept it. Not this. Not from his little brother. His little brother. Always his little brother. 

The blind man sleeps in the doorway, his home

"Oh, you're clever," Sirius breathes out

If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won

"You're not going to fight me." 

But I gave you all

"No," Sirius says. "I'm not." 

I gave you all

"You're my brother. I love you. 

I gave you all

That's what it is, that's what it's always been, and that's what it will forever be." 

Close my eyes for a while

"Only one of us can make it home" 

Force from the world a patient smile

Sirius softens, helplessly. "I know, and that's you."

But I gave you all

Regulus doesn't move, doesn't break his gaze, doesn't do anything for a long moment—and then, calmly, he says, "Are you willing to bet your life on that?" 

I gave you all

"Yes," Sirius says firmly, then holds his arms out and leaves himself an open target. All Regulus has to do is throw his dagger, and that'll be it. He doesn't. 

I gave you all

"Are you willing to bet someone else's life on that?" Regulus asks quietly, holding his gaze. "Your moon's, perhaps." 

And you rip it from my hands

And you swear it's all gone

Sirius doesn't let him finish. Doesn't even give him the chance. In seconds, he has Regulus flat on his back on the ground, hitting him once, twice, a third time. 

And you rip out all I had

Just to say that you've won

Everything seems to fall apart, and it hurts, because this—it's proof. It's convincing. Sirius, for the first time, doesn't believe in his brother. Because Regulus wants to say Remus' name, and that would hurt Sirius more than dying by Regulus' hand.

And you rip it from my hands

And you swear it's all gone

After everything that Sirius did for him. 

After everything that Sirius suffered for him. 

And you rip out all I had

Just to say that you've won

After everything that Sirius tried so fucking hard to fix. 

You've won

"I gave everything for you!" Sirius shouts, then hits Regulus again. "And this is what you give to me?!" 

Well now you've won

Sirius hits him again, heaving out a harsh breath that escapes him like a sob, hot tears dripping down the length of his nose as he confesses, "I hate you. I fucking hate you. Why would you do this? How could you do this to me, after I—after all of it? All I've ever done is love you! Everything I did, I did for you! It's your fault, and I hate that you were ever fucking born!" 

But I gave you all

"You'll have to kill me." 

I gave you all

"I will! Don't fucking push me, because I will," Sirius snarls, vibrating in place, suspended in this moment of horrible, sickening rage, and hurt, and betrayal, and fear. 

I gave you all

"It's okay," Regulus gasps, one bloodstained hand coming up to shakily cover Sirius' around the dagger. His fingers are slick as they wrap around Sirius' hand, and he swallows, he swallows his own blood just to look right at Sirius and choke out, "I love you, too. Wanted to say it for a while. Sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't. Sorry I'm saying it now, but I do. It's okay, right? It's okay. I love you, too."

sorry for butchering's zar text, i swear if the song had been longer i would have done that with the whole chapter. fucking masterpiece, that chapter is.

[starvingreader]

I will build you an altar

Harry Choi x fem MC

TW: Self-harm

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst.

Harry discovered that MC was not the naive sunshine she appeared to be in the chatroom.

It was impossible to find the right words to say to her, to express his anguish. She was lying beside him, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and her face snuggled into the side of his neck. The moonlight shined through the windows casting a shadow of their figures on the wall. They had never been so close. In fact, Harry hasn't been this close to everyone for years, both physically and emotionally.

But he wasn't at peace. Harry struggled to fall asleep. Maybe because it was an unfamiliar bed or because he didn't cocoon himself with a blanket. Those were the possibilities. Or at least, that was what he tricked his brain into thinking so.

But after some attempts, he gave up. There was no point at all. It was crystal clear that it was her. Only she could make him crumble.

His hand traced the scars on her arm. Gently, so he didn't wake her up. Her flesh felt strange under his finger. The sensation of the scars had him thinking about the past - something he didn't share with her, and she didn't mention it to him either. A sense of powerlessness hit him suddenly. Her pain left such a bad taste in his mouth.

Harry didn't realize she was struggling for so long. She was a weirdo, yes, but at the same time, MC was the brightest person he knew. Harry had a lot of words that he associated with her.

Like caring,

Or warm,

Or understanding, or patient.

But never sadness. Sadness simply didn't fit her. She was so strong.

But here she was, with a bloody arm he bandaged clumsily and scars, lots of scars all over her body. Some were healed, some were not. It would have taken her years of suffering to cover her body with these.

He couldn't comprehend how bad it was for the pain to show through a body. You would have to break, break and break until a crack was formed on your skin. Harry thought about that a lot.

He couldn't stop thinking about her lifeless eyes when he barged into her apartment. She wouldn't even move until he was near. It was hard for her to move, no, even breathing was a task.

They didn't talk much the whole night. He was just there. Harry didn't require any explanation, he didn't want to disturb her anymore. Surprisingly, Harry didn't feel much of a betrayal about MC not telling her stories despite their bond. He just felt sad but sad was not the right word. It was something more, something so intense he wanted to reap his heart out and hold it in his hand so he didn't have to face it anymore.

The night was cold in a different way you would describe the weather. Harry didn't understand much at that time. He only knew how to hold his hands out for MC to place hers in. They both trembled a bit when they touched. She told him a little about her scars, so little he had a hard time connecting her words. MC didn't cry the whole time, but her tears were clear to him. She spoke of her stories like a stranger relaying the news. Like a small talk, that was the best he could picture it. MC was numb. The agony held her shackles to the point that even when she went insane, she couldn't scream for help.

After a while, MC fell asleep in his embrace. Harry had turned back to his god-knows-why self-destruction. He didn't know he could feel like this for another person. He couldn't have guessed at all. He thought he had gone crazy.

Harry started praying to a god, a star, or the moon. Whatever that you needed to pray to, he prayed. For they would take her pain away and give them to him, he would shoulder all of that, even if it meant death. But nothing happened, the scars didn't magically disappear from her. Harry was devastated, he had already known the answers but he was devastated.

Harry felt like a dumb shit. A dumb little shit that couldn't help her at all.

Harry wished her to be happy, be absolutely happy. She was his shelter, his home. He would build her an altar. He would build her an altar for her to know that she was strong and beautiful. He would build an altar for her wounds so she wouldn't be ashamed of them.

He would build an altar for her existence and preach her like a god.

But for now, he would just hold her. He would hold her so tightly that they melted into each other. For someday, her pain would be his, and he would be hers.

[sillysistersusi]

You are more than that

Celegorm & Curufin

Summary: Curufin gets mistaken for his father and gets insecure about his worth. Celegorm is there to help.

Warnings: self doubt

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Curufin dropped head first onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow as the first tears began to fall.

Some other elves had mistaken him for his father.

What didn't seem like a big deal at first was a big deal for Curufin. All his life he had lived in his father's shadow and no one had ever seen him as his own person.

Everyone called him 'little Feanor' but not even half of them ever used his name.

When Curufin had been smaller, Maglor had always referred to him in his songs as the 'image of our beloved Atar'. He knew that Macalaurë had never meant any harm, but it had still stung his heart whenever he heard it. For even to his brothers, he was nothing more than a poor copy of their father.

And even though he was no longer a child, a comment like that still really hurt him.

Then he heard his bedroom door open quietly and close again immediately afterwards. At first he thought it was Tyelpe, but then he heard Celegorm's voice ask: "Curvo? Has something happened? You seemed so absent when you came back."

Curufin sighed into his pillow. "It's stupid," he muttered quietly.

"It always is. "Celegorm grinned, but when he didn't get a reaction from Curufin, he swallowed hard.

He dropped onto the bed next to him, causing the whole mattress to bounce up and down.

"Come on, tell your big brother," Celegorm said, wrapping his arms around his brother's middle and burying his face in his shoulder.

Curufin tried to struggle free, but Celegorm was stronger and wrapped his arms around him tighter.

Curufin lay in his brother's warm arms for a while. Because even though he had tried to fight his way out of the embrace, he liked it when his brother hugged him. When they had both been smaller, Celegorm had often wrapped his arms around him from behind and held him close.

The embrace made him feel safe and secure and he actually wished that the hug would never end.

"Is it about Tyelpe?" Celegorm asked.

Curufin shook his head and exhaled shakily. "No, it's not about Tyelpe. It's-"he sighed. "it's complicated."

"Come on, Curvo! Tell me. Just like when we were kids!"he said.

Curufin was quiet for a while. Everything in him wanted to tell his big brother. Whenever he had told his brother what was bothering him when they were small, Celegorm had done everything he could to make it up to him. But that was the problem. Curufin was no longer a small child. He should have come to terms with it by now and not make such a fuss about it.

"I-" but he interrupted himself and swallowed, "Do you think- do you think I would be worth less if I wasn't the image of our father?"

Celegorm sat up a little and loosened his grip on Curufin, but only so that he could lean over him. What he saw made his heart break a little. Curufin's eyes were red and swollen and a few silent tears were still running down his cheeks.

"Oh Curvo!"Celegorm gently wiped his cheeks dry with the sleeve of his robe, "My dear Curvo, what are you talking about? Who said you would be worth less? Who? I'll see to it that this person never steps under your eyes again."

"Me! I'm the one who said that!"Curufin turned to Celegorm, his cheek almost as red as Caranthir's when they had teased him as a child. "Not once did I feel that anyone liked me, just because of what I am, but because of my similarities with Atar!"

"Hey, "Celegrom's voice had become softer. He leaned his forehead against his younger brother's, "I like you a lot better than our Atar and I hope you know that. I wouldn't spend almost every minute I'm not hunting with you and Tyelpe otherwise, believe me."

"It's just- sometimes there- it feels like there isn't me, just a younger version of our father. "Curufin whispered softly.

"But you do exist." Celegorm whispered back softly, "And- and you're wonderful. I don't compliment many people, so feel honoured."

Curufin's mouth turned up into a slight smile as he looked up into his older brother's face.

But Celegorm wasn't done yet. Because if there was one thing that made him sad, it was when Curufin was sad. "You are so much more than our father. You put your own personal charm into everything you create and make it your own unique creation. You are a great father to Tyelpe, in a way that our Atar was not. I'm not saying he was a bad father, just that you and Tyelpe have a much deeper connection than Atar and some of us. You're also the only person I can stand to be around, no matter the time."

New tears welled up in Curufin's eyes and he bit his trembling lower lip.

"Why- Why are you crying again? Has something else happened?" Celegorm asked in a panic. He wasn't the best with emotions, but he had thought that what he had said had been all right.

Curufin wrapped his arms around Celegorm's neck and pulled him close. "Those are tears of joy, you idiot," he murmured as the first new tears escaped his eyes.

"Can I join in on your cuddling?" asked a high-pitched voice from the direction of the door.

Celegorm looked up and caught sight of his nephew Tyelpe, who poked his head through the door curiously.

Curufin released one of Celegorm's arms and said with a smile, "Come here."

Tyelpe grinned softly and threw himself onto the bed with his father and uncle.

Curufin hugged them both tightly.

[separatist-apologist]

Throw Me To The Flames

You could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand

Summary: Elain only ever meant to deliver a message to Vassa on behalf of her sister's court. She never intended to see Lucien.

And she CERTAINLY didn't mean to get in the way of a knife that was only ever meant for his chest.

Kidnapped, and dragged helpless to the continent, the two will have to work together if they want to survive.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS to my BEST @acotargiftexchange, @fieldofdaisiies

I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed hanging out with you!!!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Read More AO3

Lucien woke with a groan. 

I’m not leaving you! 

The words echoed through his mind, rattling around the walls and pulling him back to consciousness. She was gone—pulled away by a winnow he was certain didn’t belong to her. If she could, Elain had never once communicated that to him. Lucien had been given no time to truly ponder. Beron and his brothers had beat him into unconsciousness. 

“Lucien?”

He twisted on his side, pulling at a wound. Connal had stabbed him with a faebane-laced blade. He’d forgotten that. Without opening his eyes, Lucien ran his hands over the hard ground he was curled against. It was cold, and a little damp.

Stone.

“Lucien? That faraway voice tried again, warbling as if whoever owned it had been crying. There was a familiar quality to the sound, something warm and comforting about the person it belonged to.

Lucien’s heart sank. “Vassa?”

He forced open his eyes, adjusting to the gloomy dark of wherever he was being kept. Light from a torch against the wall illuminated the large space, but only barely. Lucien realized, too late, that he was trapped in a cage within a cage. A cell, caged again for a particularly difficult prisoner.

It did not feel like Autumn. There was a brutal chill in the air, wound around something so rotten even Beron wouldn’t have been able to abide by it. 

And there was Vassa. Clutching the bars of his cage with fingers wound so tight he could see her bruised knuckles. Lucien pushed himself to sit, dragging his useless body towards her. He covered her cold hands with his own, nosing his friend through the small space until he smelled the dried salt of her tears.

“You’re here,” he said, unsure where even here was. He swallowed hard, a weight in his stomach sinking him. “Is Elain–”

“She’s not here,” Vassa said quietly. “Lucien, what happened?”

“I…” What did happen? It felt like an absurdly good dream, too good to be true. All that time in nature with Elain, falling in love, accepting the bond—Lucien didn’t think any of it actually happened. He rubbed at his rib cage, looking for any proof, but there was only silence. No magic.

No Elain. 

Lucien only shrugged helplessly, his throat bruised and raw like he’d been screaming. 

“We told Rhysand when you went missing,” she whispered, pressing her body as close to the bars as she could. “He brought Feyre and Cassian and Azriel. They said…they thought…”

But Lucien knew. “That I kidnapped her?”

Vassa nodded, a glimmering tear catching in the firelight. “We tried to tell them you wouldn’t, that you didn’t want her, but they were so set that the bond must have driven you mad. So we…”

There was a note of shame in her voice. Lucien nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“We called Eris.”

Lucien could only imagine his brother's delight. Everyone was looking in the wrong places, and Vassa and Jurian, afraid that Lucien would be harmed if Rhysand found him first, had sent the eldest Vanserra after him. 

Vassa pulled her hands from his grip, settling them in the lap of her cobalt-colored dress. “You didn’t know…”

Vassa’s eyes were downcast. “He’s made a deal with Koschei. Do you know? Have you known?”

Lucien’s heart sped in his chest. “Eris did?”

“Beron. But…but he told me something, right before he found you. Did you know, Lucien? What Elain’s father promised to buy me that extra time? You were there. This whole time, have you known?”

Lucien hadn’t. He’d been allowed in the fortress, but not into the meeting chamber where Elain’s father brokered his last deal. Content to remain just in the hall, Lucien recalled when the elder Archeron had come back to the foyer grinning.

Vassa’s conditional freedom, Archeron had said with a breathless smile. 

And if I’ve worded the deal cleverly enough, I’ve secured Elain’s future as well.

Lucien had always assumed that meant a world without a death god hanging over her head.

“Tell me,” he ordered, his voice a rough rasp.

“He promised you, in exchange for me. You should have gone after the war, but the bargain was broken when he died—”

“But you remained free,” Lucien reminded her flatly.

“One of his games,” she said with a shuddering sigh. “Letting me hope, all the while he spins and spins. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Beron Vanserra offered him the same deal Elain’s father did. You, for something he wants. Not me, but—”

“Power,” Lucien said flatly. “High King, knowing him.”

The betrayal of it all—of Elain’s father, whom Lucien had assisted unconditionally, and without question, sluiced like hot oil in his gut. He’d secured his daughter's future by removing the mate he must have known she didn’t want. She could live unencumbered by Lucien’s presence, would be free to choose, just as she’d once promised her mother she would. It was strangely thoughtful, even if Lucien felt like rotting trash in comparison. 

“Why me?”

But he knew. He knew even when Vassa’s teal eyes slid to the floor and when his own stared at his hands still clutching the bars of his cell. Beron had said as much, hadn’t he? 

A stain on my good family name.

Who is he?

That magic hadn’t been Autumn. He’d known it the moment he’d unleashed it, had recognized the raw power was something that had been buried so deep in his subconscious he might have locked it up himself. He had not wanted to face it.

But Lucien had felt it before. He’d felt it in Hybern when Elain had been lying helpless on the throne room floor, drenched from the Cauldron while other males drank in her naked form with unmarked lust. The sight had ignited Lucien with fury even before he recognized what she was to him. He pulled it out to free himself so he could go to her, and in the aftermath, had convinced himself it was merely the mating bond that allowed him to untangle the spell.

“He wants you to unbind him from the lake,” Vassa told him. Lucien might have said it was impossible. Only one male in Prythian had that kind of raw power. Had the ability to pull apart the glimmering chains that hung like webs against the walls. Every surface Lucien could see was coated in them, wrapped so tight it would have taken him days to bring down the wards in only this corner of the fortress. 

“I’m drowning in faebane,” Lucien reminded Vassa dryly. Still, he pressed his forehead to the cool bars, trying and failing to keep the name from throbbing in his mind.

Helion Spell-Cleaver.

How could his mother keep this secret from him? Lucien swallowed his anger and his hurt, because it didn’t matter. What mattered, more than anything, was survival. Figuring a way out of the mess without betraying his home, his friends. 

His mate.

Vassa seemed to recognize the slant in his thoughts. “Lucien,” she whispered, her fingers curling over his again. “Elain would want you to survive this.” Lucien half laughed. “You don’t know her like I do.” 

Elain would never forgive him if he sacrificed everyone else's lives in exchange for his own. She might be relieved for a moment, but resentment and anger would burn through her, polluting what they had. Elain, who’d touched his scars and found bravery and beauty, would not be kind if Lucien lived while the people they loved died.

“Tell me about this place,” he said to Vassa when the silence stretched oppressively. Sure, as Queen, she was prepared to sacrifice herself just as Lucien was. They were at least together. Vassa had lived there long enough to know the layout.

To know about the creature that now kept them. 

“It’s not possible to escape, Lucien,” she warned him with a voice that said she had tried many, many times. “He knows I’m here. He knows what we’re saying. He hears everything. There is nothing we could plan that he wouldn’t be immediately aware of.”

Lucien thought her words were meant to inflame him—to convince him not to fight, but to try and get out. Lucien tempered the flash of temper that rose through his throat. If the death god believed he was close to getting everything he wanted—and everything was going according to plan—how long before he became complacent? Assured of his own cleverness, that everything was going to work? 

Lucien pulled from the bars and reclined back in his cage, two hands propped behind his head, one knee pulled up while he stretched out the other. Bored, graceful nobility. Unconcerned with his predicament, a patent lie that Koschei was likely well aware of.

And still. Lucien saw Vassa recoil, her anger rippling around her like living flame.

“Lucien—”

He shook his head. “I’m leashed until the faebane wears off. And I think, until I have my power again, I’d like to meet my captor and see my new home.”

“This is foolish, Lucien,” she snapped. 

Lucien only smiled.”Why else was I brought here?”

Vassa could have left him. He wouldn’t have been angry if she’d taken off, frustrated by how he refused to take things seriously. She settled on the floor, forehead pressed to the bars of his cage with a wistful sigh.

“Jurian will take over for me,” she said to the darkness. 

Lucien scoffed. “Jurian will come for you.” Lucien believed that like he believed the sky was blue. If Jurian wasn’t rallying the humans, Lucien would gouge out his other eye.

“And Elain?” Vassa asked.

Lucien turned his head.

If she was smart, she’d stay far away.

ELAIN:

“I don’t want to sleep!” Elain exploded, not caring she was running on two days without it. That her exhaustion was so apparent it was the High Lord of Day who stood before her with his unyielding, angry gaze demanding she lay down lest he hand her back over to Azriel, who had come looking for her that morning. Helion had shielded her, stating Elain had come in search of answers and was not required to leave unless she wanted to.

The grace he’d extended was clearly about to end. Elain could face him down because arguing with him was a lot like arguing with Lucien. How had no one ever pieced it together. If she closed her eyes, Elain could hear the richness of Lucien’s voice, dripping with mocking disapproval. Open, she could see the same carved jaw, the high cheekbones, and sensual, full mouth. 

The golden glow filtered through Helion’s dark brown skin was the same she’d seen draped around Lucien that final day together. 

How had no one put it together? 

It had been her very first thought when she’d seen the High Lord, built so similarly to her mate that Elain had wondered if she hadn’t gone half insane during her time in the woods. Everyone looked like Lucien.

Only to learn that Lucien’s parentage was an open secret. Helion knew. Beron knew. Elain suspected others knew as well, and had conspired to keep this secret for selfish reasons which ultimately only hurt Lucien. Elain didn’t much care for Helion in the aftermath of that little revelation and had remained only because Arina had dangled a tantalizing carrot over her head.

Kill Beron Vanserra. 

Elain thought of the vision she’d seen of Eris delivering her to Beron, certain that was a factor. There had been no sign of him in Day, and Arina had been tight-lipped regarding how, exactly, she’d come to know the eldest Autumn male. 

“You’ll go to sleep or you’ll leave,” Helion’s voice cut through Elain’s angry thoughts. “Your exhaustion is making you careless.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand–”

“No,” Helion’s golden eyes flashed dangerously. “You wouldn’t understand the depths to which I’ve gone to. I would watch your words, Elain Archeron. Your presence in my court is not an assured thing. There are things you do not understand and if I were you, I would choose every word very carefully lest you abuse my good will.”

They faced down the other in a scene so reminiscent of those early days in the woods that Elain’s heart ached. She thought about telling the High Lord she was afraid. That Lucien was just gone and she couldn’t feel him. Every nerve ending in her body screamed at her to go get him. 

Bring him back.

Elain was once again rendered helpless. Sidelined while those more powerful put their heads together and decided on a careful course of action.

And Elain was told to go to sleep. 

“Fine,” she whispered, deciding she’d sleep, she’d bathe, and then she was on her own again. If Heion wanted to wait it out like he’d seemingly been doing for centuries, Elain didn’t need to assist him. She certainly didn’t intend to play the pretty political games of High Lords hoping to avoid a war. 

Elain turned for the door, yanking the gold handle and all but flinging herself inside. She heard the impatient clip of his sandals echoing off the marble halls, leaving her alone—at least for the evening. 

Elain stepped into the series of interconnected chambers, well aware she was standing in the prince's quarters. Lucien's, had he ever been allowed to grow up here. Had he pieced it together, too? Her chest ached at the carved ivory and marble and how handsome he would have looked among the fluttering drapes and the chaise furniture set against the white and gold-flecked floors.

She could picture him, dressed in a chiton embroidered in that sunlit color, his hair draped over his shoulders while he stretched his long legs and beckoned for her to join him. 

How easy it would have been to fall in love with him here, unencumbered by their own messy pasts. For a moment, Elain indulged in a daydream in which she met him in this court for the first time, already fae because she’d been born that way. He’d pick himself up off his throne with his lazy, elegant grace and Elain would have flushed.

And instead, she’d had one day with him before he’d been ripped cruelly from her grasp. She gripped the edge of that piece of furniture to hold herself still. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks.

A movement in the arched doorway drew Elain’s attention from her own misery. Arina, serene and unbothered, stepped from the bedroom. 

“You need to sleep,” the blonde told her. Elain’s anger pricked in her chest.

“How do you know Eris Vanserra?” she demanded. Traitor, traitor, traitor, her heart pounded. She’d been foolish to trust anyone Eris sent her to. Elain and Arina faced each other down, their distrust plain. 

“What did he tell you about me?”

Elain was still in her bloodsoaked gown. She let herself smile, thinking of the way Lucien could make his eyes so cruel. 

“He was too busy pulling my blade from his gut.”

Arina’s lips curled over her teeth with might have been a savage smile had she not known they cared, in some way, for the other. Elain should have guessed the moment Arina arrived, fingers hovering over Elain. Not out of concern, but fear for the blood she scented on Elain. 

It was the reaction of a frightened mate. Elain’s fury got the better of her, causing her to lunge over the furniture. She still had Lucien’s blade—she could punish Eris for hurting Lucien.

Arina raised her hand, eyes flashing with a warning. It hadn’t occurred to Elain that if Eris had a mate, there was likely some amount of power thrumming through her veins. Elain gasped, her throat constricting.

An invisible ribbon of air wound itself around her neck, squeezing until Elain’s knees slammed to the marble, fingers scrabbling over her skin in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. Arina sauntered forward with an arrogance that marked her. Elain waited, her lungs burning for want of air.

“You’re sloppy and careless,” Arina told her, crouching so they were at eye level. “You’re going to get everyone around you killed because you won’t slow down long enough to think. I thought your mate was a Vanserra? When are you going to start thinking like one?”

“He’s…he’s—not,” Elain managed, spitting into Arina’s perfect face. “Spellcleaver.”

Arina released her grip on Elain, standing as Elain’s palms hit the floor. While Elain gasped for breath, Arina chuckled.

“That’s right. Who would possibly need that kind of powerful magic?”

Arina knew. Resisting the urge to launch herself at the maddening female, Elain shakily got to her feet. She knew, didn’t she? That familiar box, that cage— “Koschei.”

Arina’s smile was grim. “Do you understand now? Why you need to be careful—cautious? This isn’t the Night Court you’re trying to outsmart. This is a being older than our world, who has been plotting his revenge carefully. That means you need to sleep, and you need to stop running at everything like you can destroy it with pure will. You need an ally, Elain Archeron.”

“I don’t trust anyone close to Eris.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Arina snapped, her temper getting the better of her. “Unharmed? He could have taken you to Autumn where I guarantee you wouldn’t fare half as well. I need your help. I owe him.”

“I want him back,” Elain whispered. Arina bit her bottom lip, as if Elain’s words were a common refrain she’d only ever thought to herself. Standing in the oppressive silence, Elain let herself yield. She was tired, and so badly wrung out that it took immense effort to remain on her feet.

Elain pulled at the bond, needing the reassurance that Lucien was okay. There was nothing on Lucien’s end—mere silence. He was still under the influence of faebane, but likely not dead. 

Hopefully not dead.

Arina stepped out of Elain’s way, her long fingers curling around Elain’s arm. “We don’t need to be enemies, you know.”

Elain only nodded. “Will you stay?” She didn’t know why she asked. Only that Elain hadn’t spent a night alone since the kidnapping, and the thought of being locked in chambers that should have belonged to Lucien made her chest ache. Arina nodded, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Elain made her way towards a truly opulent bed. The sort she’d hoped for back when she would have given anything for even an inch of space from Lucien. Now it was merely too large, with no one to help her fill it. She felt no shame unlacing the stiff dress she wore, nor discarding it to the floor. Arina offered her a simple nightdress without another lecture on bathing. Elain would do so when she woke.

While Elain climbed under the blankets, Arina sat on the edge of the bed, eyes focused on the curtained windows at the far end of the room. 

“We met under the mountain,” Arina told Elain once they were both settled. “Almost sixty years ago. I could count on one hand the number of times we’ve talked. I see him though. In my dreams. I see what the High Lord subjects him to.”

Elain wondered if it was too cruel to tell Arina that Eris had made an offer for her sister. She wondered, absently, why he’d do that knowing he had a mate. What strategy lay in taking a wife knowing there was another female waiting on you? 

“Are you sure he is what you want?”

Arina merely shrugged. It was too personal a question for strangers. If Arina had only spoken to him a handful of times in nearly a century, what did she really know about him? Elain could have told her that Eris had been willing to bet Elain’s life on Arina, but sleep was pulling her down, rendering words useless. 

Some hazy pressed against her mind. It wasn’t a dream, though it slipped into her consciousness the way a dream might.

Four stone walls—a fortress surrounded by mountains and forest. Water lapping at a shore, the gentle waves silenced under the honking of indignant swans. A bird of flame rested on one of the deep window sills, watching with cerulean eyes.

A lord of sun-soaked flame sat at one end of a long, onyx-carved table. Gold and russet appraised the shrouded opponent cooly, his lips twisted in a graceful smirk. He didn’t speak, negotiating silently for whatever it was he wanted. 

The vision slipped, dragging Elain away from Lucien. Alive, and whole. Up to his usual tricks, which offered Elain the faintest sliver of relief. 

One more, sometime in the night, barged into Elain’s memories of tasting Lucien on the forest floor. She moaned in frustration, wanting to return to that place and hating the magic that governed her. 

A black box, unattended at the top of spiraling stairs. One open window revealed a stretched lake so big it could have been a boundless sea. Dotting blots of white moved over a glassy surface, tipping arched necks upwards toward a clouded sky. 

The box pulsated, writhing with some terrible, unnatural magic. A heart, trapped outside of a body and left for safekeeping. Spelled by long-forgotten magic, rendering its host invincible so long as it survived.

It whispered in a language long forgotten to the world. One Elain’s bones recognized, gilded in the same ancient ore of the cauldron.

Open me, sweet fawn. Start what should have been finished eons ago. Open me, open me. You know what you must do—how you must end this. Sweet fawn, trembling beast. Open me—

Elain gasped, sitting so quickly her vision swam with stars. Sunlight flooded through the room, bringing with it a new day. Elain swallowed, her mind still echoing that voice. It was the same as the cauldron—the same ancient language she’d recognized though she knew she shouldn’t. And Elain had seen that box before, clutched in the bone white hands of a death god. She knew he never let it leave him, that he guarded it with his very life.

Because it was his life. What hubris could convince him to abandon it. To risk leaving his very soul behind? Elain knew, as she rose with her aching bones and bruised body, that if she wanted to see this through, she would need to be twice as careful. Twice as clever. She would have to lean into the assumption she was little more than pretty decoration as she made her moves.

It was hardly a plan, but it was motivation. If Lucien was playing his part, then she would too. Elain went to the bathing chamber and washed herself like she would have if nothing were amiss. She curled her hair and made her face nice before draping herself in sweeping, simple gold. Everything she needed was right in front of her. All Elain had to do was play her part to perfection and she’d have Lucien back.

Elain met Helion in a small, private dining room. He looked unbothered and serene, the picture of power as he lounged in his chair. She didn’t dare draw a comparison between the vision of Lucien with the same postured stance and the male before her. Instead, Elain merely smoothed her dress beneath her body and sat opposite him at the square table.

“Azriel has called for you again. He seems insistent he sees you.” “He can wait,” Elain replied dismissively. 

Helion appraised her for a moment before pushing a plate of tarts and other pastries in her direction. “Eat,” he said, flashing a perfect set of white teeth. He saw right through her—Elain recognized that look of knowing. Still, she chose a cherry-filled donut and sank her teeth into it, delighting in the tart sweetness. 

Helion watched with a narrowed gaze, as if there were a million accusations he’d like to lob at her, all of which he kept gnashed behind his teeth. Elain wanted to do the exact same. 

“How long before I can expect your sister at my doorstep?” Helion asked, watching while she dabbed at the corner of her lips with a delicate napkin.

“How could you leave him in Autumn?”

Helion went wholly still. “What did you say?”

But he’d heard her. Elain reached for another pastry while Helion watched, his expression utterly unreadable. She understood, in some respects, she had no right to ask him anything. Not when he’d let her stroll into his court and had used her ties to his bastard son in order to be dragged back to Night, where she technically belonged. It was a stupid question.

A cruel question.

And one she needed him to answer. Helion exhaled a soft breath.

“Are you done?”

No, but Elain rose from her chair all the same when Helion did. She was still in his home, after all, and subjected to his whims and desires. And Elain had sworn to behave, if only to get what she needed. 

Helion led Elain down a series of intricate halls she thought she might one day learn by heart, should Lucien choose to come here. Halls she might view as home, when the dust settled. As they walked, Elain made no attempt to memorize any of it. Helion was leading her down into the earth, far from the spooling daylight that chased the shadows from his palace. 

“I learned of Lucien when he was born,” Helion began, his voice carrying against the rough hewn stone of the bottom most layers of his palace. Had they gone further, Elain imagined it would have been to dungeons.

Instead, Helion turned her towards a set of white carved doors. A creature of golden scales had been painted in its fire breathing glory, huddled over a trove of jewels and gold set into the carving itself.

Helion waved an absent hand, his wrists braceleted in heavy vambraces. 

Elain had never seen a High Lord’s treasure trove before. Behind the doors lay a museum of items, carefully housed in glass and cabinets as though Helion had gone through each item carefully to find a place. The space spiraled upwards, led by neatly built stairs the High Lord began to lead her up. 

“Only a letter with a few words, sent to me by Lucien’s mother. ‘He’s yours. Take him, please.’”

Elain’s stomach dropped. “Why didn’t you?”

Helion, his large hand ghosting the rail, glanced over his shoulder. “Beron would have killed her, and I thought losing her might kill me. Beron had, by that time, declared his seventh son. Lucien. Another Autumn Court prince and I…I was only a scholar in another lord's court. I told myself Lucien would grow up with every advantage and, more importantly, he would have his mother.”

Elain remained silent, eyes tracking the items they passed. Jewels older than herself, and tiaras that might have sat atop Lucien’s mother's head, had she been born to a different court. Books—so many books—with titles in languages she could not read.

“Rumors trickle slowly,” Heion continued, his eyes haunted in the light of the past. “Lucien would have been sixty, then, when we learned he’d been disinherited. His lover beheaded, and two of his brothers destroyed at his own hand. I went, once, to Spring to inquire after him. It was at my High Lord’s request. Everyone wanted insight to Beron’s court, and if Lucien seemed like a rare jewel. I saw him only once, though I don’t think he ever saw me. Tamlin had claimed him and demanded I leave. Lucien was mourning.”

A subtle pulse rattled through Elain’s throat. She turned her head, looking for the cause as Helion led her from the stairs to an aisle of items he wanted to draw her attention toward.

“We saw each other again when we were all sent beneath the mountain. I watched him lose his eye and he missed me crowned High Lord when Day Court was punished for our rebellion. It was the first time I thought I might reveal myself to him. To do as Amera had asked when he’d been born and bring him home. I was too afraid, then. So much time had passed…how do you explain to your son you betrayed him because of fear? I often wonder if Lucien would consider it a fair trade.”

“His mother for himself?” Elain questioned, the beating heart all but drowning all other thoughts from her mind. “He would never have forgiven you had you chosen differently.”

“We lost too much time,” Helion told her, unaware of how Elain stumbled when she found the source of the noise. A dagger, tipped in mauve, lay just behind several stacked books. The card beside it read Cassandra’s blade. 

And just beneath, a message: One who are two, only together does the blade strike true.

Elain slid it from the immaculate counter it laid against, committing the words to heart. For a moment she thought the whole space might erupt, alerting the High Lord to the theft as she hastily slid the dagger into her dress, held by the tight bodice of her golden gown. The heartbeat slowed, melding into her own and Helion never turned as he found what he looked for.

A tiny circlet, big enough to fit the brow of a child. Helion reached for it, lifting it from a plush, purple pillow. 

“I had it made when I learned of him,” Helion told her, his handsome face lined with the weight of his regret. “I had thought I might get him anyway. That I’d have them both. It was a foolish dream of a foolish male…” Helion gazed at the circlet for a long moment before carefully placing it back on the pillow.

“Your son might wear it one day,” he said with all the emotion available to him. Elain felt her heart squeeze, faced down against a male she’d only just met. Helion cleared his throat, his gaze sharpening.

“I won’t pretend I believe you’re here to lick your wounds or avoid whatever is happening in Night Court. I would ask you to spare me whatever lies you’ve spent the night working on.” Elain was taken aback by the shift in Helion’s tone, by the cold shrewdness in his gaze. “Whatever it is you and Arina intend to see through, I have only one demand. It must be carried to its full conclusion or you can not return. I am being asked to point my armies to the continent and I cannot fight a divided front. If you fail in your task and Beron Vanserra demands you as consolation, I will send you without a second thought.”

Elain jutted her chin. “And if I succeed? Will you offer Lucien and me a place in your court, regardless of my methods?”

“I will crown you princess of Day and kneel at your feet, should you succeed, Elain Archeron,” was his measured reply. He knew. He understood Elain and Arina wanted to see Beron dead—that killing Beron might sever whatever bargain he’d made with Koschei if Koschei didn’t manage to fulfill it in time. Elain wondered if he didn’t know exactly what she’d taken and the only reason he hadn’t been altered was by sheer will alone. 

Strike true.

“I won’t fail.”

LUCIEN:

Lucien knew when Koschei was close. His face, bone white and still elegant, in a stretched, old sort of way, would appear like moonlight on water through the door Lucien was housed behind. A body clad in black buckles and fabric, swept up in a silver brooched cape, swept in just behind, dragging the unfamiliar stench of death with him. Lucien remained ever unbothered, reclined in his cage as he waited.

Each passing day was a resurfacing of his magic. Elain’s presence fluttered in his chest, followed by a tentative pull on the bond.

Alive? He swore he heard her voice whisper it. Everything felt like a trick, and so Lucien was careful when he tugged back, offering no hint of emotion. Just a response in the form of an unfeeling pull, reassuring her he wasn’t dead.

An unspoken promise only to himself that he was going to do his best to get back to her. 

Lucien forced himself to breathe through his nose as Koschei approached, crouching before Lucien’s cage. He slid a spindled key into the lock, freeing Lucien for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“Lord,” Koschei’s voice intoned, too close to Beron’s for Lucien’s liking. He suspected that was done on purpose. “Would you care to stretch your legs?” Lucien’s gaze swept over Koschei’s form and the tightly woven spells wrapped around him. His form was hazy, as though his very essence had been stuffed into a suit of skin just barely able to contain his form. Lucien didn’t want to think of what he’d unleash if he managed to untangle the web of spells. 

Lucien was forced to crawl on his knees, a degrading position before this being he hated. Koschei betrayed no emotion, just as he always did. He doubted any of it was personal—Koschei wanted freedom, and Lucien was merely another pawn in this game he’d been playing for centuries. For Lucien, whose life seemed spun by one lone strand of thread, everything Koschei did was intensely personal.

He watched, noting how Koschei’s hand dipped beneath his cloak, grasping for something nervously. It was a nervous tic, a habit that felt strangely human. He’d seen Elain fidget just the same, unused to the ways of the fae and constantly in motion. Koschei lacked Elain’s lively nerves. He was touching something as reassurance. To remind himself whatever it was he concealed was safe. 

Lucien wanted to know what it was and was willing to risk a lot of things in order to find out. That included being the good little pet Beron had traded—that Elain’s father had traded. How pleased he’d been that day, strolling from the very fortress Lucien was now trapped in.

He’d only arrived due to Lucien’s wiles. Lucien’s contacts, his skills, his ability to navigate the lands. He’d been allowed in, but Lucien had been told to remain in the open foyer, watching the flaming bird perched on the iron chandelier just overhead. She’d had her head cocked, listening but Lucien had only half paid attention. 

He’d been focused on getting home in time. 

And Archeron, when he’d come out and beckoned for Vassa, had grinned like a fool. Lucien had known the bargain he’d wound wouldn’t be beneficial to Archeron, a simple human just learning the intricacies with which the fae spun bargains. He’d tried to counsel, to warn Archeron and it seemed the male had taken him to heart. 

I’ve secured Elain’s future, he’d said. Lucien had been so pleased to be part of such a thing. To have helped his mate, even if he didn’t understand the terms. And instead, Archeron had nearly played him for a fool. Vassa, a pawn for a Spell-Cleaver. Elain, her future secured to live on her own terms, freed of the mating bond even her father understood she did not want. Lucien privately wondered if Graysen hadn’t told her father the story angrily, and her father had befriended Lucien solely to rescue his favored daughter.

Koschei had merely been thwarted by Archeron’s death. He’d freed Vassa, but Archeron had never been able to deliver on his end, leaving Koschei to find another. Beron must have wept real tears at the prospect. There were no downsides, Lucien was sure, to whatever bargain Beron had concocted. 

Lucien exhaled softly, swallowing the feelings of betrayal. If he let them overwhelm him, he’d do something stupid and at best, find himself honking at the sky as little more than a vicious swan. 

“Your magic is stronger,” Koschei commented, gesturing for Lucien to follow him through the stone into a large, open dining hall. A too-long table carved of volcanic rock was set with more food than Lucien had seen in a week. Koschei gestured for Lucien to sit before taking his place at the head of the table.

“I am told you were unaware of what you are,” Koschei continued, fingers steepled before his bloodless lips. When Lucien didn’t acknowledge him, he gestured towards the food impatiently.

“The bargain keeps you here, not the meal.” Lucien didn’t care if his words were a lie. He hadn’t eaten since Elain had shoved willoweed in his mouth and thought he might perish if he didn’t get something in his body.

“Forgive me, I forget what it takes to keep one of you alive. I confess, it is why I prefer animals. They are natural scavengers.”

“I could scavenge just fine outside a cage,” Lucien retorted, taking his first long drink of cool water in days. 

“I heard you are much like a fox. Is that your preferred form?”

Lucien turned, expecting cruelty but found only curiosity. Lounging in his chair, he gestured down his unwashed body.

“This is my preferred form.”

Koschei nodded only once, hands slipping back beneath his cloak to finger at whatever he had hidden there. Lucien paid it no mind, scooping steaming meat and potatoes onto a silver plate. Lucien shoved that first bite into his mouth, unable to stifle his groan.

“I suspect feeding you might yield me quicker results.”

Lucien had no intention of freeing Koschei unless there were no other opinions available to him. His strength was returning, but that didn’t mean his skill was. Lucien ate, noting the burst of hatred that exploded in his chest. Elain was angry again, the feeling smothered quickly. He tugged on the bond as Koschei cocked his head.

“It’s a living thing,” the death god murmured, more to himself than Lucien. “I am told even your kind cannot break it.”

The food in Lucien’s mouth turned to ask. “Nothing can break a mating bond.” Koschei arched a dark brow, the hair on his head the same as the table. Pupil-less black stared at him, noting the challenge in Lucien’s voice. 

“Death could,” he commented nonchalantly. “Either part of the pair would do.”

Lucien forced himself to take another bite, unnerved by the cold, unfeeling way Koschei spoke. He was a bug trapped in a jar, his fate uncertain while his master decided if he might disembowel him or make him into a pet. 

“I don’t know how it works,” Lucien finally said, easing himself back into casual diplomacy. He knew this. He knew how to face off with an enemy and get away unscathed. “I only learned moments before I was dragged here.”

Koschei gestured around him, at the spells and wards covering every inch of stone. “Practice, then. To your heart's content, day and night. I will give you a bedchamber instead of a cage and you will spend the week practicing.”

Only a week. Lucien had expected less. “And then?”

“And then you will pull this wretched spell from my form and free me like your ancestors ought to have done the day they wrapped it around my neck,” he snarled, some of his ice thawing into old, familiar hatred. Lucien merely stared, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. 

Tension hung between them as Koschei waited. A week was a long time—Lucien could manage a lot of things. He inclined his chin, careful not to formally agree, though in all likelihood, it didn’t matter. The intention was enough to bind them, to remake whatever Archeron and Beron had originally offered. 

Lucien felt the slithering oil cooling his veins, lashing his arms behind his back just as surely as any rope. Koschei offered a tight-lipped smile, cocking his head as though Lucien’s agreement had come at just the right moment.

“If you aid me, I will reward you,” he murmured, eyes sliding to a steepled window at the far end of the room. Lucien concealed his disgust.

“I am not Beron. I don’t believe you would share power.”

“You’re right. I wouldn't. I would reward you, though. That mate of yours is working hard to find you. I would be willing to deliver her to you. Unharmed,” he added, as if the very notion that Lucien would want Elain uninjured fascinated him. Lucien’s heart thudded in his chest, his fingers curling around his cutlery so tight he bent the silver. 

“That is what you want, isn’t it? I hear your dreams calling for her. She could be at your side. Safe, as a lady ought to be. One of my faithful vassals in this new world. There is a place in it for a Spell-Cleaver I can trust.”

Lucien was tempted to ask what had happened to the original Spell-Cleaver, to hear the history that had been long denied him. Koschei leaned forward with anticipation, his eyes night bright as he stared. Lucien swallowed against the strangest burning sensation fizzling against his skin. He’d felt this once before on the battle during Hybern—he had attributed it to his tempering magic. 

“I worried that might happen,” Koschei commented, waiting until the heat edged from Lucien’s form. “Bargaining on behalf of another person so often works.” Lucien swallowed, trying to make sense of it. “Beron is dead?” Koschei reclined back in his chair, an inhuman smile spread over his face. “It’s as you said. I don’t share power.”

ELAIN:

Elain stared at Arina. Or, not Arina, but Arina all the same. It was Eris Vanserra’s sneering face peering down at her, comically clad in one of Arina’s pretty white dresses. It hardly fit his lean, muscular form and did little to improve on Elain’s open dislike.

There were small tells the male before her was an interloper, clothing notwithstanding. Green ringed around his amber eyes, and his skin seemed to glow where it shouldn’t. Arina was clumsily unclasping the top of her dress, prompting Elain to spin around. Arina or not, she didn’t want to see just how much of a match the spell Arina had woven around her was. 

They were on the border of Day and Dawn, hastily changing before they strolled into Autumn and prayed Beron was too arrogant to realize his son was wasting time in Night Court, pulled into a dispute between Cassian and Azriel that, if done right, would keep him just long enough for them to assassinate a High Lord. 

It was an insane plan, and the only one Elain could come up with on such short notice. She’d met with Azriel and, after assuring him she was safe, had begged him to help her. He had no reason to, was barely her friend. She thought whatever he saw pouring from her gaze convinced him to agree without question.

And she knew Cassian and Azriel had kept this from Rhysand. Elain appreciated that, too. Rhys would have put a stop to the murder, might have balked at the thought. 

“Are you sure about this?” Elain asked, not for the first time. She didn’t think Eris was half as deserving of Arina and was constantly on the verge of telling Arina so. Did she know Eris had tried to marry another female only a year before? 

Elain kept her mouth shut. She needed Arina’s help, and beyond that, Arina was kind. If she believed in Eris, Elain decided to force herself to believe there was something lurking beneath a truly heinous exterior. Maybe, she rationalized, for a fae born female, the pull of a mate was too heady to resist, personality notwithstanding. 

Arina sighed, stepping forward. “I don’t know how men walk like this,” she complained, adjusting herself through her trousers. Elain couldn’t help the explosion of absurd laughter that ripped through her. The whole thing seemed so insane, like there was no way it could work. 

And then Arina looked down at her, arching an auburn brown with disdain even as she gripped whatever lay between Eris’s legs and tried to get it to sit right and Elain thought that perhaps they could bluff their way in.

Arina twisted in her pants, wiggling narrow hips one last time before she had some measure of relief. She adjusted the sword at her belt before running her hands over her chest for anything they might have missed.

“For this to work, we can’t make one mistake,” Elain warned, pulling at her chest. Days had passed as she and Arina worked through the mechanics and set their own board. The only advantage they had was how little expectations were heaped upon either of them. Beron wouldn’t expect two females to stride into his court thinking only of his death, and neither would anyone else.

Elain had aligned her dominoes. She had no delusions that she’d get Lucien back simply by executing the High Lord. Koschei would find a reason to keep him, to rework their arrangement under the assumption the High Lord of Autumn wouldn’t live forever. She just knew Koschei’s use for Beron had concluded. 

But for her to have Lucien, this was the first tower to topple. 

“We won’t,” Arina assured her, her voice all wrong. It was Eris saying it with his usual cool boredom. It was the same tone he’d taken when he’d told her she would go to Day and find Arina in the first place. “And if we do, Beron won’t realize until it's too late. The real trick will be getting out of Autumn without being apprehended.”

Elain had no plan for that. Mere luck, and the hope Eris wouldn’t kill his own mate for doing him a favor, were the things Elain counted on. Either in the chaos they managed to dodge their way out, Arina fooled the court long enough that she seated herself as High Lord, or Elain was thrown in the dungeon and forced to wait for Feyre to negotiate the terms of her release.

Elain clasped the callused hand of fake Eris. Arina would winnow them in. There would be no more talking–no more planning. Only them, hardly warriors, setting the stage for the fight to come. 

“Ready?” Arina’s nerves slipped from Eris’s voice, making him sound strangely human. Elain didn’t dare look up, too afraid she wouldn’t seem appropriately frightened when they arrived.

“Ready,” she agreed, not bothering to steady her already racing heart. Just before the crush of warm, sunlit air, Elain pulled on the bond. 

Alive? 

Lucien’s pull was careful, betraying none of his own emotions. No love, no remorse, nothing but a quick tug to assure her that yes, he was alive. Elain sent a quick prayer skyward that Lucien wouldn’t do anything so recklessly brave before she could reach him. If Lucien knew what she planned, she knew he’d try and rush to stop her, to outdo her.

Lucien, who had been pushed aside his entire life. Chosen dead last by everyone who ever should have put him first. Elain was determined that when they saw each other again, it would be because they’d made a choice outside of circumstances, the bond, fate—everything that pushed and pulled at them. She would go to him because it was him, and life had no color, no meaning, no interest without him. 

They were gone in the next, slipping from the brutal, bright warmth of day to the loamy scented forest and bitter autumn chill. Arina straightened, eyes wide as she drank in the jewel-bright trees. Was she imagining herself at home here? 

“Focus,” Elain hissed, regretting her words when Arina’s hand gripped her hair roughly, twisting until Elain’s knees buckled. Arina had Eris’s mannerisms done to the minute, glancing at her as if she were little more than garbage beneath her immaculate boot.

“Let's go,” Arina said, her voice more Eris than anything.

Elain was half dragged from the treeline towards the expansive, palatial Forest House. The sheer, domineering size of it terrified Elain. This was their plan, she reminded herself, and still she dug her heels into the ground to try and stall for as long as possible. She had the sense that people who went in very rarely came out. 

Sentries, clad in white and red, guarded more than just the doors. Elain saw them on the roof and in the nearby trees, blades hanging from their belts and bows in their hands. No one blinked an eye at the haughty appearance of the Autumn Court prince. Eris—or Arina, truly—paid them no attention at all just as Elain supposed he would. He merely dragged her inside with a murmured threat to haul her over his shoulders if she didn’t stop fighting. 

Elain’s overwhelming fear overpowered Arina’s, masking them both as they entered the sprawling complex. Gleaming wood cast their reflections back up at Elain, gilded orange in the warm faelights set in ornate sconces on the wooden walls. Elain was surprised by the light that poured in through glassy, open windows unencumbered by curtains or hanging tapestries, along with vibrant art depicting long-dead rulers, mythical scenes of what she supposed were autumnal creatures, and other wildlife and pastures. 

Lucien had grown up here. She tried to imagine it, imagine him dressed in the traditional garb and colors, crowned like a prince. Elain could imagine him strutting the halls, young and unburdened with what was waiting for him in the coming years. She imagined he was lovely like that—rakish and arrogant in the ways she’d come to appreciate.

They realized quite quickly they had no idea where they were going. One wrong turn would out them as interlopers, which made each winding turn and splintering corridor rife with hesitation. Arina continued in a straight line, looking for the unmistakable doors of a throne room. 

Luck was with them. One of the Vanserras—not Eris, but one who had forced Lucien to his knees, came upon them before they could find themselves well and truly lost.

“Taking her to your bedroom?” he sneered, his eyes rich with disapproval. 

“To father,” Arina snapped. The younger Vanserra blinked, his surprise evident. 

“He’s in the throne room.”

They were lost. Elain’s heart began to pound and, given they were stopped and badly in need of a distraction, she writhed against her hold like she thought she would escape. 

“Help me with her,” Arina gritted out, ripping some of Elain’s hair directly from her scalp. Still, the Vanserra brother hesitated, as if he didn’t want to touch her. It was only the intensity with which Eris stared that finally prompted him to take Elain by the arm.

“Let’s go.”

They were silent, doubling back the way they’d come without commentary. Elain had been so sure he’d ask what they were actually doing, or otherwise piece it together. He either didn’t dare go against his eldest brother's word or simply didn’t care. The idea that Eris might torture a prisoner in his bedroom was abhorrent and once again called into question what, exactly, Arina even wanted from Eris. 

Elain would worry about that later. They turned down an arching corridor towards thrown open, double doors and there was officially no going back. Beron Vanserra was reclined on his throne, one leg kicked up on the very edge of the chair while his wife sat just beside him. She leaned forward, russet eyes wide with unguarded fear. Lucien’s beloved mother—the person he’d asserted with absolute authority that Elain would like, and vice versa.

“Eris,” she whispered. Elain realized, belatedly, from the look on her face that was so similar to those of her other sons, that no one had expected Eris to bring Elain to Beron. They’d made a mistake, though Elain couldn’t work out the shape of it. Was this not what Eris had been told to do? Who he was, fundamentally? 

Beron grinned, his boot falling to the dark wood dais he was perched atop. 

“I’ve brought you a gift,” Arina said in Eris’s usual sneer

“Look who stopped being so useless,” Beron said by way of praise. Arina threw Elain to the ground, causing her body to skid forward as she took a step back.

“Everyone out!” Beron ordered, raising a hand to keep his sons and his wife. The resulting crowd of courtiers shuffled slowly, clearly disappointed to miss whatever terrible show Beron meant to put on. It was smart, practical, and spared Elain from a messy show with a large audience. 

“Where did you find her?” Beron asked, rising slowly from his chair.

“She found me,” came Arina’s response, dripping with disdain. They’d agreed to keep the lying to a minimum just in case they needed to tell a coherent story. “Begging me to help free little Lucien.”

Beron’s descent down the steps made the very ground beneath him shake. 

“Beron,” his wife whispered—the love of Helion’s life, the whole reason he’d turned his attention away from his only son. “Beron, she’s only a girl.”

Beron crouched, hooking a finger under Elain’s chin. “She looks grown to me. Elain Archeron,” he added with clear relish. “What would your sisters give to have you back?” It was her moment—he was close enough she could smell the loamy scent of him, rich like wet soil and fallen leaves. Beside her, Elain felt Arina tense, waiting for her to drive the dagger into his throat and end things.

Elain froze. Panicked as she looked in the powerful gaze of a being older than every family member she could remember. “Please,” she whispered instead. 

Beron tilted her face, his grip bruising as he examined her. “You will secure me compliance with the half-breeds in Night. I want to know everything you have learned while living there.” Elain could feel Arina’s pleading gaze on her. Finish this. 

It wasn’t right. She could feel it, that understanding that they would fail if she tried. He was expecting some trick, was too heightened and not yet convinced of his own invincibility. Elain remained on the ground, her body braced on her palms and knees to plead with him again.

“I don’t know anything.”

He clicked his teeth. “I’m sure that’s not true. Perhaps you’ve only forgotten. Pain can be a powerful motivator for missing memory.”

“Beron,” Amera tried again but her plea fell on deaf ears. Beron was working himself up. He came on his knees before Elain, bruising her jaw as his fingers dug into her flesh.

“The Seer,” he breathed, his breath foul, like the stench of his rotting insides could not be wholly hidden. “Just as the Death Lord promised.”

Elain’s eyes widened. 

“Oh, yes. He told me you would be delivered to me. That you would finish what he started. There is no escape for you, Elain Archeron. You will bend to my will or I will break you, but either way, you will see me sit on the throne as High King, knowing it was your hand that helped.”

Beron lowered tilted her face upwards, eyes searching. No one was paying her any attention as she reached for her breast, fingers slipping just inside.

“I think I’ll chain you at my feet,” Beron taunted, forcing her to look only at him. Elain didn’t react, her fear just as he expected. She felt the cool handle of Cassandra’s blade, comforting in her palm. Beron meant to terrify her into compliance. 

“I’ll trot you out when Rhyand arrives,” he continued, lost in a fevered imagining in which the other High Lords knelt before him, presenting their necks for his blade. And Koschei had warned him—what a joke. She might have laughed if her hand hadn’t been shaking so hard. “And when he—”

Beron choked, his brown eyes widening. Elain had foregone his neck, too afraid he might survive even an ash-coated blade if she didn’t shove directly into his heart. Beron looked between them, falling backward as Elain used the rest of her body weight to shove that dagger into his chest.

The fallout was pandemonium. He went to raise a fiery hand, intending to kill her as his last act. Arina thwarted him, still spelled to look like Eris. She choked the air from his lungs, with one furious, trembling hand while the other withdrew an unmistakable, curved Day Court blade. Elain scrambled back, coated in the blood of a High Lord, just in time for Arina to do as Nesta had once done, beheading Beron to ensure there were no mistakes.

Silence overwhelmed the room. Elain pushed to her feet, facing the pale faces of three Vanserra’s and the now widowed Lady of Autumn. It felt cruel—cold, even, to wrench the dagger from Beron’s headless body, but she still needed it. Elain couldn’t look as she wiped the blood on Beron’s pant leg.

“Eris?” Amera whispered and too late, Elain forgot that one of them was supposed to ascend to the throne. Arina’s eyes had gone wide, too, the spell still holding her in Eris’s form. 

“Not Lucien,” one of the others whispered, looking to his mother for clarification. 

She only shrugged helplessly, lips parted as if to assure them that Lucien was another High Lords heir, and couldn’t possibly sit on two thrones.

She was denied the chance. The closed doors to the throne room splintered apart furiously, bringing with them the true heir—the new High Lord. Eris looked vengeful, his wrath barely contained. Fire licked over his molten hair while an inferno blazed in his eyes. 

“You,” he gasped, his eyes pinned not on Elain, but a reformed Arina standing between himself and the throne he was meant to rule from. 

He crossed the room in six strides, driven to his knees when he approached. The flame didn’t wink from existence, though his breath caught with the unmistakable gasp of Arina leashing him. She closed the gap between them, looking down at him with a set of unreadable green eyes.

She didn’t lower herself.

“Don’t forget who put you here, lord,” she whispered, no kindness in her tone. Elain understood she had vastly underestimated Arina just as Eris had. “We’re even for under the mountain.”

“Arina,” Eris whispered, but they were done. She wasn’t staying with him. While courtiers began to trickle back into the room, cognizant that another court had just executed their High Lord,

Arina looked upwards and shattered the wards that held the Forest House safe. Her arm wrapped around Elain’s middle, pulling them close.

“Arina!” Eris snarled, lunging for her, but warm, salt and lime-scented wind dragged them away before he could reach either of them and hold them in place. It had all gone exactly as they’d hoped, and yet when Elain’s feet slammed back to the burning flagstone just outside the Day Court palace, she had the distinct feeling she had been tricked. 

Arina was panting, blood smeared over her face. Eyes wild, she drank in her surroundings as though she hadn’t expected to see them again. Elain watched her press a golden hand over her heart, still dressed in Eris’s clothes. 

“You left him,” Elain accused, unsure where to even start.

“He freed me, once,” Arina replied, eyes flicking between Elain and the palace. “From that heinous bitch. He kept me from dying and I have owed him ever since. He can’t call it in anymore.”

A beatific smile slid over her face. “He can’t demand anything from me. If he wants this bond, he has to earn it.”

Elain faced off with this female, the pair staring at the other with a strange new kinship. “We killed a High Lord,” Elain said, the words only half real to her dizzied mind. Arina glanced over Elain’s shoulder, the remaining color in her face draining. A heavy hand pressed itself against her shoulder, casting blue light at the corner of her vision.

“Elain.”

She spun to look up at Azriel, his wings tucked tight just behind. There was a mix of wary admiration and disapproval in his gaze, but Elain didn’t care what he thought of her—as if Azriel was mourning the loss of Beron Vanserra. He was, if anything, more concerned of the repercussions on his home, his friends, his family.

It was unfair to ask any more of him, especially when she suspected he had been the one sidelining her in the past. Elain held her ground, but hoped that time had softened his opinion of her abilities. 

“Azriel,” she said, swallowing hard. “I need your help.”

His surprise flickered like a whispering candle in his gaze. He hadn’t expected her to say that. “Oh?”

Elain clutched the dagger in her hands. Her board was set as best as she’d ever manage it, given she’d only begun days before. Koschei had centuries of planning, of careful maneuvering. What did Elain have, other than her reckless disregard for her personal safety and her belief she could win, if only because something inside her insisted that she must? 

“I know how to end this,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I just…I need help. Someone who can get me there, you don’t have–”

“You need an army,” Azriel said without an ounce of the dismissiveness she might have expected. It was mere fact. “A distraction.”

“Yes,” she breathed, relief flooding through her. Azriel offered her a lopsided smile, drawing a dimple against his cheek.

“You should trust your friends,” he chided, offering her the hand he’d placed on her shoulder. “We need your help, too.”

“Mine?” 

His smile was easy, as if to say there were no hard feelings between them. She didn’t trust him, just as once he hadn’t trusted her. 

“For what?”

“To convince the humans to ally with us one last time. Graysen Nolan will only speak with you.”

[angstyandromanticwriting]

Vera Alfrey (an OC) x Fem!Reader Angsty, Cute and Fluffy Prompt

• Period drama style

• Vera’s face claim is Margot Robbie as Valerie Vose in Amsterdam (2022)

• There will be more!

!TW: Cheating, facing homophobia, self-doubt, self put-down(s), implied suffering from depression + anxiety + separation anxiety, mention of sexual occurrence(s), mention of death + implied grieving, mention of the loss of parents, presence of blood + injury detail, violence/being abused, break-up, mention of abuse + implied murder, implied suicidal intentions + attempting to commit suicide (via drowning), elements of self-harm - If I’ve missed any, let me know ❤️!

Ever since Vera’s father had been informed by one of the gardeners of your and her undergarments being found within the cornfield, things had been tense between you, her, and Violet; you were all worried about what might happen if your and Vera’s affair was discovered, though neither one of you could understand why it was something so bad to them - like Isabella had told Vera before she had passed away, and had still been the head maid of the household: love was meant to be a force that doesn’t discriminate, so why should anyone be disgusted by you both being two women in love with one another?

Despite the fact that your lives were on the line, this wouldn’t stop you both from seeing one another still behind her family’s backs, with only Violet - her middle sister - knowing now about you both, and trying to cover you as much as she possibly could in an attempt to protect you from the harassment you would surely face if you were discovered by the police.

“Hey-!” You chimed elatedly upon noticing Vera enter the library quietly; she often met you in here secretly as the others often wouldn’t be within the room whilst it was being cleaned by you, considering the fact that you were one of the maids within the house, and she would always - whenever her parents had gone out with her youngest sister, Elizabeth - rush to your side, knowing that you both wouldn’t be walked in on, and therefore wouldn’t be punished, or on edge about being discovered together by any of them; the other maids would most likely not bother checking up on you, either, with Violet keeping an eye on the room for the both of you in secret.

“Hi!” She returned, her eyes glinting following her gaze falling upon you, before she rushed up to you, and threw her arms around you, evidently glad to find that you were okay, worrying you a little, but you would try and hide it from her, returning the hug in an attempt to provide comfort to her as you could tell that maybe she’d been shaken up recently, and you couldn’t imagine why, wondering if her father, or mother had questioned her again, when really she had been trying to evade the both of them to the best of her ability. “I missed you so much,” she expressed timidly whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t help, but appear flustered whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy; nobody had ever made you feel so loved, and cared about before, and you couldn’t help, but wonder why she was wasting her time on you, being perfect, whilst you believed yourself to be nothing, compared to her, prompting your heart to sink, and a pained expression to cross your face, but you would try and hide it whilst you rested your head upon her left shoulder, fighting back the small tears that had managed to cloud your vision.

“I missed you, too,” you returned, “h-how was it, earlier, with the-.. the general?”

Vera would appear taken aback by the question, holding you at arm’s length whilst she smirked over at you; she could tell that you were a little jealous, though you had no reason to be; the general could never mean anything to her, and she was still determined to find a way out of marrying him, somehow, wanting to remain loyal to you, and only you, now she knew that you felt the same way for her, and that these feelings you were holding for one another were normal, and not something to be ashamed of the way you had both often been made to feel like they were, before. Upon noticing the look on her face, and mischievous glint forming within her stunning icy blue eyes, you would wince, appearing embarrassed at yourself for reacting the way you had; you knew you shouldn’t be jealous, but couldn’t help it - you were terrified of losing her, and couldn’t help, but wish you both could spend more time together, often longing for one another’s company whenever you were away from each other’s sides the way you had been a brief moment ago.

“I hated every second of it,” she admitted, before tilting her head partially, and trying hard to fight back a grin, as well as a giggle upon noticing that you had begun to blush faintly, “why? Were you hoping to get me all to yourself earlier?” You would falter, before beginning to stammer, and hiding your face from her whilst your blush began to grow more evident; she’d always had this effect on you, and she loved it; she always had, and knew she always would, no matter what the future might be holding for you both, after your undergarments had been found within the cornfield you’d both fooled around in together recently, before Auntie Isabella had sadly passed away. “Don’t worry, kitty, I’m all your’s,” she cooed, before lifting her right hand up to your left cheek, prompting you to instantly melt into her touch whilst you found your eyes locking blissfully with her stunning icy blue ones, encouraging your heart to begin pounding overwhelmingly whilst it raced alongside her own in the best way possible, “and that’s never gonna change, I promise; I love you so much-”

“Vera!” Her mother would call from downstairs, and Vera would falter, a pained expression on her face; she’d been about to delicately connect her lips to your’s, and her mother had rudely interrupted the moment for you both.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I-.. I should go and see what it is that she wants, now,” she stated apologetically, and you would frown, before nodding gravely, prompting her to feel worse; she didn’t want to have to leave you like this, affectionately connecting her forehead to your’s whilst she wished things could be different for you both; wished that you both could be together freely, somehow, without having the threat of harassment looming over one another’s heads, “I’ll be back soon, I promise, I-.. just don’t forget that I love you, okay? A-And that I always will, no matter what.”

“I won’t forget, V, d-don’t worry,” you cooed, “I-.. I could never forget - just promise me that you will never forget that I love you, too, a-and I always will, even if you do have to marry-.. t-that guy - my feelings for you will never change because I-”

She would then smile sadly over at you, before delicately connecting her lips to your’s, prompting you to fall quiet, and to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you clung to her shoulders subconsciously, forgetting what you had been about to say; she had been hoping to distract you from the marriage as she could tell that you had been thinking about it a lot recently, and wished she could do more to try and stop it from plaguing your mind any further than it evidently was.

“I’m not going to marry him, I promise,” she insisted, “why would I, w-when I - I’m smitten with you?”

You would appear flustered again whilst your smile grew alongside her own, and your eyes would begin to glint whilst your heart skipped a couple of beats - nothing had ever felt so amazing before, and you loved it, but not as much as you loved her, and knew you always would.

“I - I’m smitten with you, t-too,” you stammered out, prompting her to beam over at you, before she leaned forward to kiss you again a little more passionately, this time, wishing she could deepen it, until she was reminded of her mother wanting to see her as she called for her to come downstairs again, prompting her to grunt, before she begrudgingly held you at arm’s length again, and would briefly entangle the fingers of her right hand within your hair whilst she wished she could stay with you for a little while longer, hating to be away from you as it felt wrong to not be stuck to your side. “I’ll be okay waiting here for you, V, I promise,” you tried to reassure her, and she would hesitate, before nodding gravely, and easing you into a final hug, prolonging it as much as she possibly could.

“I won’t be long,” she replied, and you would nod again, hoping she was right, “I promise - I’m sure she just wants to question me some more, but - we’re gonna be okay, as long as we have each other.”

“I hope so,” you mused, and she would then reluctantly let go of you, before dragging herself toward the library door, and smiling faintly back at you, “s-see you in a bit.”

“See you, kitty, in less than half an hour, I promise,” she returned, before pushing herself to leave the room though she longed to remain by your side, somehow, for the rest of her life, and even beyond it, but her questioning by her mother would end up returning her to you later than she thought it would, worrying you, and even prompting you to leave the room to eavesdrop on her and her mother’s conversation, but it wasn’t long after you had that you found yourself beginning to regret doing so.

🜚

Whilst you were stood outside of the Alfrey’s living room, you would falter upon hearing Vera and her mother’s voice, inching closer to the door so you could hear more of their conversation, wondering why this session of questioning was taking longer than Vera had expected it to.

“For the last time, mother, I am not having an affair,” you heard Vera strain out, prompting you to frown; you could hear that she was trying not to cry, and wished you could enter the room to hug her, and kiss her in an attempt to provide comfort to her, “I could never do that to General Maxwell - I-.. care about him too much to do something like that to him.”

“Really? You care about him? Is that all?” Her mother questioned, and Vera would hesitate, a pained expression on her face, before shaking her head begrudgingly, and trying not to feel guilty though she knew you weren’t in the room with her, and hoped against hope that you were still up in the library though she knew this moment would always burden her own conscience. “Vera-”

“I love him, mother,” she interjected, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, and her mother would then appear satisfied, glad, “and I could never love anyone else as much as I love her - him, I mean.”

Until Vera had made that mistake, her mother might have believed her, reminding herself of the other pair of undergarments belonging to a maid, prompting her to nod gravely, before she crossed over to the shelf opposite the sofa, and took up the frame she’d had made for her and her husband, Arthur Alfrey’s wedding day.

“You do want to marry him, don’t you?” Her mother inquired, and she would hesitate, finding herself unable to stop it from happening; she just couldn’t shake the guilty feeling she was experiencing whenever she thought back to you, and how she would rather marry you, and spend the rest of her life with you, instead of General Maxwell.

“Of course I do,” Vera mustered faintly in a voice barely audible, “what kind of question is that?”

“I was just checking to see if you were ready to take on such a commitment,” she answered, and Vera would frown, before forcing herself to nod again after her mother had set down the frame again, and was looking back at her, “are you? Because you know what it means to get married, don’t you? You’ll have to tend to him regularly whenever he’s home, and - if you are able - provide him with heirs to continue his family’s legacy - are you ready to do both of those things?”

Vera couldn’t help, but grimace subconsciously whilst she bowed her head, and silently wished she could return to your side, knowing that she would instantly feel better upon being within your embrace again whilst you, too, were struggling to hold yourself together apart from her the way that you currently were, trying not to cry whilst you begged her barely audibly to say no, and to tell her mother that she had no intentions of marrying him to prevent you both from losing one another, somehow, before it got to be too late to do so.

“Readier than I’ve ever been before,” she managed dejectedly, and her mother would smile warmly over at her, glad, before she walked up to her daughter, and would ease her into a hug, prompting Vera to hesitate, before she returned it, and would find herself struggling to fight back her emotions anymore, her tears managing to slowly run down cheeks only to be frequently brushed away by her slightly shaky right hand; she couldn’t believe she’d managed to get her and you into this mess, and hoped against hope that the plan she had in mind to pull out of the wedding last minute would work, and look as if it were just her getting cold feet about the whole idea to protect you, as well as herself, though she found that - whenever she was reminded of the possibility that someone might hurt you for being inverted; attracted to the same sex - she only worried about you, and felt as if she couldn’t worry about herself as much as she did whenever the subject arose of you possibly being hurt; she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, and so the possibility of her losing you was, and forever would remain to be a terrifying one, no matter what the future might hold for you both.

“I’m proud of you,” her mother cooed, “and I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful mother someday.”

You couldn’t help, but falter again, your heart sinking alongside your demeanour whilst you began to wonder if this was what Vera wanted - something you could never give her: her own children. This thought would prompt you to silently curse yourself for ever thinking that maybe she would truly want to spend her life, as well as possibly the afterlife, with you, leaving you feeling empty, and as if you had nothing left to live for anymore, assuming you were soon going to be losing Vera - the only person who had ever provided you with a reason to since live the moment your gaze had first fallen upon her.

“Thank you, mum,” Vera replied whilst her eyes darkened, and heart began to ache excruciatingly alongside your own; she couldn’t help, but feel as if something else was wrong - as if you knew, somehow, about this guilty conversation, and that was when she heard it - a strained sob escaping your lips upon you finding you could no longer fight it back any longer; the pain was overwhelming, and you would then silently curse yourself for allowing it to sound out, before fleeing from the door, and rushing back up the stairs to get back into the library before they could discover that you had been listening to their conversation.

“What was that?” Her mother mused, startled by the sound as she looked toward the door. “Someone must have been listening to us,” she stated as she hurriedly walked toward the door whilst Vera found she couldn’t follow her, feeling much too numb, and weak to for a moment; she could tell that the sound had come from you, and couldn’t help, but curse herself for not being more careful; she hated hurting you the way she could tell that she had a brief moment ago, “I must go and talk to your father, the head cook, and the new head maid about this; they won’t be happy to hear that someone’s abandoned their duties to eavesdrop on our private matters,” she stated, and Vera found she couldn’t even muster up a response, a hurt look on her face whilst her heart raced overwhelmingly; tormentingly, and she was struggling not to break down alongside you. Her voice was stuck in her throat, somehow, and a lump had formed within it that she couldn’t swallow whilst she stared down at the ground in an attempt to hide that her eyes were full of tears, and cheeks were already partially tear-stained whilst her face was heating up slightly like it did whenever she was trying not to cry in front of her mother the way she was, now, in an attempt to protect you from being discovered, as well as herself. “You’ll be okay, won’t you, Vera?” She concluded, but before she could even force an answer out of herself, her mother would leave her alone within the room, and it was after this moment that she allowed herself to break down, sinking onto the sofa whilst she cried, and sobbed uncontrollably into the palms of her hands; she couldn’t believe she had unintentionally hurt you the way she had, and now feared that maybe she might be about to lose you, somehow, if she didn’t figure out a way of pulling out of the wedding sooner than she had intended to as a result of possibly not being able to manage to try and fix things herself by reminding you of all you meant to her, and of how she could never want anything more, than to be by your side as your lover, and your’s only, and this was what she would try and do, getting up off of the sofa once she felt able, and had managed to calm herself down, determined not to lose you again after she briefly had a few days ago following the excruciating passing of Auntie Isabella.

🜚

Upon getting closer to the library door, Vera would falter, hearing that you - too - were still crying, prompting her heart to sink, and eyes to darken whilst she silently cursed herself for allowing this to happen; she hated hurting you like she could tell she evidently had, making her feel even worse to know that this wouldn’t have happened if she’d been more careful whilst talking to her mother, or had been clearer about how the conversation might go so it wouldn’t surprise you if you ended up listening in following her doing so, but it was too late now to change what had happened earlier; she’d just have to try and fix it before it was too late for her to do so, and this was terrifying considering the fact that she couldn’t imagine her life without you in it, by her side as her soulmate as she was certain that you were her twin soul, now, after everything you’d both already been through together.

She would then timidly draw in a shaky breath, before easing open the door, and you would wince upon hearing it, hastily trying to recompose yourself as you sat up, and would quickly wipe away your tears to the best of your ability, but even if Vera hadn’t known that you had heard the conversation, she would still be able to tell that you had been crying for a little while, now, and she couldn’t bear it, a pained expression on her face when she noticed your tear-stained cheeks, and slightly sore eyes, making her feel even worse for what had happened, as well as prompting her heart to ache a little more excruciatingly whilst she locked eyes with you blissfully for a moment, and this would allow you both to briefly forget about the pain you were in, until you managed to stammer out the words: ‘you’re back’.

“Y-Y/n, I - I’m so sorry,” she managed feebly, before rushing up to you, and throwing her arms around you whilst she sat down beside you on the sofa beneath the stained glass window, and you would subconsciously melt into her embrace instantly, finding you’d missed it whilst she was talking to her mother, before you returned the hug, and would bury your face into the crook of her neck, “I really am - I never meant to hurt you, I swear-”

“Hurt me-?” You interjected, feigning confusion as you glanced up at her for a moment, before forcing a smile as if you were no longer in pain, but she could see through it, and the pain only grew to be even more excruciating for you both as you could tell that she knew; she knew you too well for you to be getting away with shiny smiles around her in an attempt to try and hide that you were in pain as you didn’t want to hurt her, too, making you feel guilty upon realising, and being able to determine by the crestfallen expression on her face that she was in pain, too. “V, you - you’d never hurt me,” you tried to reassure her, before affectionately connecting your forehead to her’s, hoping that this would make her feel better when she only felt worse, and wished you weren’t so good to her after what had just happened a brief moment ago, “I was only worried you weren’t going to come back after half an hour had passed - that’s all; it’s not important, a-and you’re here, now, that’s all that matters-”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n,” she stated dejectedly, before holding you at arm’s length, and you would tense up, evidently worried about what she might think of you after you had eavesdropped on her and her mother’s private conversation, “I know you heard it, a-and-.. I know I should have told you what we might talk about, first-”

“So-.. you do want to have children in the future with that guy, o-or another one?” You murmured, and she would fall quiet, a hurt look on her face, before she hastily shook her head, and would ease you even closer to her so she could hug you tightly again as if her life depended on her holding you, and never letting you go for fear of her losing everything if she ever ended up losing you, somehow, and to try and provide comfort to her again you would return the hug; you could tell she had also been crying, and had also been upset like you were, making you feel bad for assuming that she wanted more than you as she’d always insisted otherwise, and had been trying to prove it to you everyday to the best of her ability without the others who didn’t already know about you both finding out.

“No, kitty,” she cooed, and you couldn’t help, but smile softly upon hearing the nickname she’d been using for you ever since you’d both been relatively quite smaller, before you had started falling deeply and helplessly in love with one another, “I could never want that - I’ve only ever wanted you, and will only ever want you - I promised, didn’t I?” You would then wince upon remembering that she had, before you began to feel bad for forgetting, and she couldn’t help, but smile lovingly over at you, finding your reaction adorable, before she delicately kissed away the last of your tears on your left cheek, prompting you to giggle softly, before you affectionately connected your forehead to her’s again, and would timidly intertwine the fingers of your hands with her’s, surprising her as she felt her heart skipping a beat, before it began to race blissfully alongside your’s again; you both always seemed to have this reaction to making physical contact with one another, and hoped you’d never lose the feelings you were currently experiencing for one another as they were more perfect than anything either of you had ever felt before whilst you silently revelled in one another’s company for a moment, and couldn’t help, but admire each other, before she managed to find her voice again, stammering briefly as she kept finding herself almost getting lost within your eyes whilst you already had given into her’s, wishing you could be lost within her stunning icy blue eyes for the rest of however long eternity might be, and even beyond that. “You - You told me you wouldn’t forget that I love you,” she reminded you, and you would frown, beginning to feel bad again, before you bowed your head slightly, prompting her to feel a little guilty for bringing it up, “but it’s okay - I forgive you; I’m not upset with you, I promise - I just-.. don’t want you to ever think that there’ll be a time I decide I don’t want you anymore, b-because-.. I could never do that to you, Y/n; you’re everything to me; half my soul, like the poets say, remember? A-And I can honestly say that that’s never going to change; I can feel it - it will always only ever be you for me, n-no matter what - I love you, kitty, m-more than - more than life itself, and I always will, okay?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you replied playfully, and she would pout; she’d evidently been hoping you would return the three words to her, “what? Was that the wrong answer?”

“Completely wrong,” she answered, before inching closer to you suggestively, and smirking whilst she teased you by brushing her lips against your’s for a moment, prompting you to tense up, and to have your heart begin to pound overwhelmingly whilst you would appear flustered, blood rushing to your cheeks, “what if I told you there might be a prize if you gave me the right one? Would you?”

“E-Er, I-” You stammered shyly, evidently still not used to doing this with her even though you’d had a few moments like these before already; you always found yourself fearing you might disappoint her, somehow, though she knew she could never be disappointed by you; she loved you too much, and revelled in anything she did with you. “V-”

Vera would then appear worried about you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable as she sat back a little, and would smile reassuringly over at you, before she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, soothing you instantly, and even prompting you to subconsciously melt into her touch whilst you found yourself admiring her again, soon getting lost within her stunning icy blue eyes in the best way possible.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” she cooed, “we don’t have to; I don’t want you to feel like you do if you don’t feel up for it-”

“N-No, I do, I - I swear, I just-…” You would then fall quiet, a pained expression on your face, before you reluctantly let go of her hands, and would timidly stare down at your own whilst you fidgeted with them anxiously, concerning her even more; she hated seeing you upset like you evidently were, now, and would try and provide comfort to you by inching even closer, and resting her head upon your right shoulder, prompting you to smile faintly subconsciously; you wished you knew what you had done to deserve someone as perfect, kind, and caring as her. “I get scared sometimes,” you admitted dejectedly, “what if - what if I disappoint you, one day? What if-”

“Disappoint me?” She mused, a hurt look on her face whilst she glanced up at you, prompting your heart to sink upon noticing the look on her face; you’d never intended to upset her the way you could see you had, and wished you had never brought it up, now. “Y/n, you - you could never disappoint me,” she contradicted, before wrapping her arms around your waist, and you would try and hide your face from her, evidently embarrassed, as well as ashamed of yourself for assuming maybe you’d lose her if you disappointed her, “I love everything about you; everything that you do, and I’m never going to stop, so don’t ever worry about me being disappointed by you, somehow, because I never will be - s-so-.. would - would you want to-?”

You couldn’t help, but grin down at her, before nodding hastily, and leaning down a little to delicately connect your lips to her own, prompting her to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you both held one another closer to the point that no gaps were left between you both, and you loved it.

“I’d love to,” you answered once you’d reluctantly broken the kiss, and she would then appear elated, her stunning icy blue eyes glinting, before she chimed out the two words ‘I’m glad’, and would lean forward to passionately kiss you, and the moment was perfect, until the library door was opened, and Vera’s youngest sister, Elizabeth, was stood by it, shocked to find you both together, kissing the way that you were, but before either of you could say anything, she would flee from the room, terrifying you both; if you wanted to remain alive today, you’d both need to run away together, and fast.

🜚

“Vera, what - what does this mean-?” You questioned, your voice briefly trembling; Elizabeth had just fled the room, and you were evidently terrified of what might happen to you both. “What are they gonna do to us-?” You then couldn’t help it as you began to cry quietly, considering the possibility that maybe you both would never be able to see one another again, and you couldn’t imagine what your life would be like without her in it, by your side. “Are we gonna die?” You strained out, and Vera would frown, before she hastily shook her head, and rushed to embrace you after she had closed the library door, soothing you instantly as you melted into her arms, leaning heavily against her whilst you clung to her shoulders, and would allow your strained sobs to escape your lips into her left shoulder whilst she rubbed your back using her right hand, desperate to try and calm you as she knew that if she wanted to run away with you - something she had longed to do ever since you’d both confessed your love for one another - she would have to calm you first, and then begin her hopeful escape with you, hoping that you both could hide yourselves within the cornfield for a little while, until nightfall, at least, when she knew you’d most likely not be spotted, and nightfall wasn’t too far away, now.

“They’re never going to get to us, I promise,” she cooed gently, and you couldn’t help, but smile softly upon hearing her voice again, feeling warm and fuzzy as if nothing were wrong; as if you both weren’t possibly about to get hurt for being the way that you were, “I won’t let them, but - Y/n-.. we’re going to have to run, okay? Run, and never look back at the place, until we get to the cornfield - can you do that?”

“I - I think so,” you answered, trying to appear confident, and she would nod, before holding you at arm’s length, glad whilst she smiled reassuringly back at you in an attempt to try and further relax you, and it was working, somehow, quicker than you ever thought it could, prompting you to smile lovingly back at her subconsciously whilst your heart raced blissfully alongside her’s once more, “a-as long as you promise me that we’re never going to lose e-each other, a-and that you will be okay - you matter to me more than I could ever matter to myself, a-and if I lose you, V, I-”

She would then lean forward to delicately connect her lips to your’s whilst she wrapped her arms around your waist, prompting you to fall quiet whilst you melted into the kiss, as well as melted into her embrace again, forgetting what you had previously requested for her to do, until she fulfilled your request - of course she did; she couldn’t not; she loved you too much to leave you worrying about her like that.

“We’re never going to lose each other again, I promise,” she stated, prompting you to express relief whilst you beamed over at her, and would revel in the feeling of her hands being on your cheeks gently, whilst she was partially entangling the fingers of her right hand within your hair, “a-and we’re both going to make it out of here - I’m going to make sure of that, n-no matter what happens, okay? Just know that I love you, a-and that I’m going to stick by your side - just don’t look back if I fall behind-”

You would falter, your eyes widening a little whilst you hastily shook your head, and would subconsciously ease her closer to you protectively, prompting her to smile sadly back at you; she knew that you were scared, and of course she was scared too, but she was certain that you both could get away together without being scratched, somehow.

“V-” You whined, but before you could beg her to take back her advice, shouting would arise from her father downstairs, and you both knew that it was time to go.

“We’re gonna be okay, kitty, I promise,” she insisted, before briefly planting a kiss on your lips to soothe you again, leaving you in a daze long enough for her to delicately grab hold of your left hand in her right one, before she hastily guided you out of the room, and down the staircase intended for maids like you, and gardeners, as well as cooks and butlers servicing the Alfrey’s home, allowing you both to slip through the back door somehow unnoticed, before you ran toward the cornfield hand in hand.

🜚

Once nightfall had finally arrived, you both would hesitantly remain cuddled up together for a little while, wanting to take advantage of the unique view of the night sky as if you both had simply come out here like she would with you when the others hadn’t found out about you yet, either to fool around, or just lay together and admire each other, as well as the night sky.

“The stars are shining brighter than they ever have before tonight,” you mused timidly, and Vera couldn’t help, but smile subconsciously upon hearing your voice beside her, before she beamed over at you, and would intertwine the fingers of her right hand blissfully with the fingers of your left hand, prompting your heart to skip a beat, and you to grow easily flustered whilst you glanced over at her, smiling sheepishly in her direction whilst you both revelled in the perfect moment, wishing it could last forever, somehow, but you knew that - as they’d most likely never find you both in a cornfield like this, the workers would most likely just return to work in the morning, and that’s why you both knew you needed to leave soon, and not remain here for the entire work as the gardeners would most likely locate you both in the morning.

“Maybe it’s a sign; we’re going to be okay, after all,” she speculated, and you would hesitate, a pained expression on your face for a moment whilst you thought about it, your eyes even darkening, and heart beginning to overwhelmingly pound - you were terrified of an alternative reasoning, and of course she was, too, but she didn’t want to think that something might end up going wrong, especially not when she knew she would lose you, if it did, and she didn’t doubt at all that if she ever did end up losing you, it would break her, and leave her feeling lost, as well as as if she had nothing to live for anymore, and she couldn’t let it happen, whilst you were concealing the same fears regarding her, not caring about what they might do to you if you both ended up being caught by them.

Upon noticing your demeanour change, Vera would falter, her smile slowly disappearing; she could tell that you were still convinced that you would both end up getting caught, somehow, though she had hoped you would try and be more positive about the idea, not wanting you to be overwhelmed by worry regarding you possibly losing her. Upon remembering your fears regarding her, and not yourself, her heart would sink - she couldn’t help to think about how you both were being hunted down for being in love with one another, as if it were a crime like treason, and this would spark another thought to invade her mind: what if they hang us if they do end up finding us, somehow? That was another terrifying possibility, but she would try and force the alternative scenarios from her mind, wanting to try and provide comfort to you somehow by inching closer to you, and wrapping her arms around your waist, and her action did seem to soothe you a little more, prompting you to instantly melt into her embrace whilst you returned the hug, and would close the gaps between you both to the best of your ability whilst you affectionately connected your forehead to her’s, prompting her to smile lovingly over at you, and though her smile was infectious, prompting your own to return, you still couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that you would both lose one another today, and it was excruciating to be aware of, especially after you had dreamed so often of spending eternity with her, and dreamt so often of doing everything you could with her, and her only - it was painful.

“Or it could be a warning,” you suggested gravely, and Vera would frown, before subconsciously shaking her head, and entangling the fingers of her right hand blissfully within your hair, “I’m scared, V - if I lose you-”

“You’re never going to lose me, kitty, I promise - they will never find out that we’re here,” she tried to reassure you gently, and you would hesitate, before nodding slowly, trying to hide that you were still doubtful, only because you were terrified of doing anything like this that might pry you both away from one another excruciatingly, somehow, “we aren’t even going to be staying here, remember? Do you want to move, o-or-? I don’t mind getting further away, if you want to-”

You both would then tense up upon hearing voices getting closer; the gardeners must still be searching out here for you, and you would then wince, before timidly inching closer to her, and burying your face into her right shoulder whilst you whimpered quietly, and she would frown, noticing that your body had begun to tremble a little, making her feel bad for not running even further away from the search parties; you were evidently frightened of them, whilst she was trying her best to try and hide her fear to make you feel a little safer.

“Nevermind - I don’t think we have a choice,” she murmured dejectedly, and you would shake your head, before nervously looking around, and noticing the flashlight beams floating around through the cornfield; they were most likely going to start searching here soon, “come on, kitty, we should keep moving - we should be able to find another field somewhere that we can stay in until the morning, and after that we’ll try and find another place to stay - I’m sure we can.”

“Wait-!” You whisper-shouted, and she would lower herself back down beside you again, knowing that if she was crouching for too long she’d eventually be spotted. “I - I might know of somewhere; it’s not much, but - it could be an option, for now,” you suggested, and Vera would appear intrigued, tilting her head partially whilst her eyes glinted a little; she was excited about the idea of possibly being able to begin a new life with you, like you were also elated to be given the opportunity to begin a new life with her, “before my parents died, we-.. we stayed in this shack, a-and I think I can find it from here; I doubt anyone would have bought it, s-so-.. what do you think, V? I’m up for doing whatever you want to do, always, I promise.”

“I think the shack would be a great place to stay, b-because you were there,” she replied, prompting you to appear surprised, as well as a little flustered and flattered; you didn’t think she’d want to go with you somewhere she’d never been before just because you had been there before, “are you ready? I could always try and distract them if you need some more time-”

“No,” you whined, “it’s too risky, V, a-and I don’t want to lose you again, so - I’m ready; let’s go.”

🜚

Though you both seemed to get quite far from the cornfield you had previously been hiding within together, it wasn’t long before you began to struggle to continue after you tripped up, and cried out in agony, startling Vera who faltered, before hastily rushing back to your side, and cradling you close to her whilst she examined your knees, a pained expression on her face when she noticed that your right knee was bleeding; you’d cut it on a sharp rock on the ground, and she couldn’t help, but curse herself for allowing all of this to happen. Despite the fact that she had requested for Violet to watch Elizabeth, she couldn’t help, but feel responsible, knowing that if you’d both been more careful earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have been caught by her, and wouldn’t now have to be running away from her family, excluding her sisters, though it was ludicrous that you both were having to run away like you were in the first place - what was so revolting as well as illegal to them about you both - two women - being in love with one another?

“I’m not going to make it out of here, am I?” You assumed, and Vera would falter upon hearing your voice; you were trying not to cry - the pain was excruciating - though the search parties had already been alerted regarding your and her location, and they were shouting nearby whilst hastily running around the cornfield to try and get to you both.

“Of course you are,” she contradicted gently whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, soothing you instantly whilst your tears began to run slowly down your cheeks, prompting her to delicately brush them away using the thumb of her right hand whilst she smiled lovingly over at you, trying not to cry as she knew she’d only upset you if she began to cry alongside you, terrified - herself - that maybe this was it for you both; it would be much harder to escape, now, “we can still make it; I’m going to carry you, so you don’t have to run with that knee-”

“No, don’t,” you begged weakly, not wanting her to feel as if she had to do that for you, “I can run still, I swear-”

“I’m not letting you hurt yourself any further than you already have, kitty,” she interjected gently, before she carefully lifted you up off of the ground - the fact that you were somewhat shorter than her helped her as she hastily continued to run as fast as she possibly could away from the house, desperate to get you to safety so she could tend to your wound. You would then cling to her shoulders, not that you were scared of her dropping you; you knew she’d never do that to you intentionally, but you simply loved to be making physical contact with her like you were, now.

You even found your knee was slowly beginning to pain you less whilst you admired her facial features, and couldn’t help, but smile softly up at her whilst you rested your head upon her left shoulder, wondering what you had done to deserve someone as perfect as her.

“You’re so beautiful,” you mused whilst you played with her hair using your right hand, prompting her to appear flustered, beaming down at you for a moment whilst her stunning icy blue eyes began to glint, but you both would appear startled when you heard a dog barking close behind you, panicking her as she pushed herself to run faster, but she knew as well as you and the others that she’d never be able to outrun Auntie Isabella’s doberman, Teddy, and that’s why she got knocked down, but made sure to not let go of you, falling on her back, before she began to try and shoo Teddy away whilst she cradled your trembling body close to her, desperate to keep you safe, and to get you away from her family alive.

“Get away, Teddy!” She cried, and upon recognising her, he would whine; you were both close to him, and had been ever since you’d met, and befriended Auntie Isabella, and instead of trying to lead the others to you both, he would run back to try and distract them to give you both more time, but despite his efforts, and Vera’s attempt to continue fleeing with you in her arms whilst you cried quietly into her left shoulder, desperate for this day to be over, you would both be ambushed by the gardeners, and forced away from one another whilst you both struggled, and cried for each other, desperate to be within one another’s arms again. “Let her go!” She begged shakily whilst her own tears began to stream down her cheeks; she couldn’t help, but break down upon being gingerly parted from you the way she just had been. “Y/n!” She shrieked feebly whilst you tried to kick at the people trying to drag you away whilst Vera’s father rushed up, her mother following closely behind him.

“I should have known,” he spat whilst he looked between you both, scowling; he couldn’t believe he had never noticed that you both were still sneaking around behind his back like you evidently had been, “all these years you’ve been hiding this from me, huh? That you’re one of the inverted? My own daughter?”

“Arthur,” Vera’s mother spoke up timidly; she didn’t like the way he was talking to her, “stop-”

“Stay out of this, Gertrude,” he interjected sharply, before returning his attention to you, prompting you to tense up, terrified as you subconsciously shook your head, and longed for Vera’s arms to be around you, but she was still being restrained by the other gardeners who weren’t holding you back, “I should have known it was you-”

“Father, don’t, please,” Vera begged, “I love her, a-and by hurting her, you’d be hurting me-”

“Oh cry me a river, Vera,” he retorted, prompting her to falter, a hurt look on her face whilst she hastily shook her head again, “I’ll never be able to see you as my daughter again after today; you’re dead to me, and I can’t wait to have you married off to General Maxwell; I’ll never have to see your face again-”

“I hate you!” She cried, whilst her mother would subconsciously grimace over at him, but she knew she’d never be able to change his mind, or stop him from being the way that he currently was, so she would begrudgingly step back, and lower her gaze whilst he stormed up to Vera, and would slap her across the face, prompting her to have to try and fight back a whimper; her left cheek was stinging, and he’d managed to leave a faint red mark on it, but he’d never care, that was made clear when he raised his hand to hit her again, but you couldn’t let him, managing to break free of the gardeners’ hold on you so you could rush up to him, and try and pry him away from her, prompting him to grab you gingerly by your hair, prompting you to cry out in pain again as he forced you away from him, and wouldn’t hesitate to shove you down onto the ground before he began to repeatedly kick at your sides whilst Vera cried, and begged him shakily to stop whilst she struggled against her own restrainers, desperate to save you from him, but they were too strong, and the other gardeners as well as her mother had already managed to pull him off of you whilst you curled up, and sobbed uncontrollably into your left arm, everywhere paining you excruciatingly whilst Vera looked on helplessly, wishing she could cradle you close to her whilst she cooed sweet nothings to you, and tended to the wound on your knee, as well as to the bruises you must have just been administered by her father’s previous beating of you a brief moment ago, now.

“Let me go,” he demanded gruffly, and they would all reluctantly do so whilst Vera’s mother, Gertrude, lingered warily beside him, a pained expression on her face whilst she did - she disapproved of the way he was handling the situation, of course she did, but she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him; knew she would also be accused, and beaten if she opposed him to protect Vera. “You both disgust me,” he concluded, “now get back inside, and go to bed, both of you, and just know that there’ll be no more funny business; you’ll be watched even more closely from now on - come on, Gertrude, Teddy.”

He then turned and began to walk back toward the house whilst Gertrude smiled apologetically back at her daughter, before she followed closely behind him, and Teddy would trot at her side, reluctantly, though he would rather stay with you and Vera, and make sure that you both were okay, but he knew that he’d most likely be hit, or scolded if he did, and so wouldn’t go against his new master’s orders.

“Y/n,” Vera strained out through her shaky sobs, and you would whimper in response to her voice, silently begging for her to stay by your side, “I’m so sorry-”

“Come on, Miss Alfrey - don’t want to upset your father anymore, do we?” One of the gardeners interrupted, prompting her to falter, and to subconsciously shake her head whilst she found she couldn’t pry her gaze from your currently curled up, and trembly frame upon the ground; she couldn’t leave you like this, and knew that if she did, she would never be able to forgive herself, and was terrified of losing you, somehow, if she didn’t try and provide comfort to you after what her father had just done to you.

“I’m not leaving her out here like this,” she managed, “I can’t, I - I just - I just can’t; you don’t understand-”

“We’re sorry, Miss, but-.. it’s your father’s orders-”

“I don’t care about his orders anymore!” She cried, and the gardener would fall quiet for a moment whilst you managed to glance up at Vera, feeling weaker than you ever had before, as well as quite faint.

“V, I-.. I’m okay, don’t-.. don’t worry about me,” you mustered, your voice close to a whisper, and she would hastily shake her head; she wouldn’t leave you alone out here, “just-.. just go back before he comes out, and beats you, too-”

“No,” she whined, “k-kitty, I-.. I can’t-”

“Please,” you pleaded with her, “V, you-.. you have to - do it for me; I’ll be okay, I swear - you’ll see.”

She would hesitate, not sure; she hated the thought of leaving you to suffer like she would be, if she ended up going back inside whilst the gardeners who had previously restrained you would drag you back to the maid’s quarters, and lock the doors before you could slip out, and join her within her own bedroom like you usually had been doing ever since you both were quite small.

“Just-.. promise me you’ll be okay,” she requested, her voice briefly trembling, and you would nod, before managing a faint smile up at her whilst you managed to sit up a little bit more, allowing the gardeners to help you up off of the ground, “o-or I’m not going back - not willingly, at least.”

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” you insisted, and she would express relief, before nodding head head slightly, and looking over at the gardeners who were currently holding you up; you were evidently still struggling to keep yourself up due to the deep cut you’d managed to get as a result of tripping up before you’d both been caught.

“You - You better be careful with her, o-or I swear I’ll-..” She would then fall quiet, noticing you hastily shaking your head; you were afraid of them hurting her if she threatened them, but they understood how you both must be feeling, unlike your father, and so would give in to Vera, nodding their heads to reassure her that they would be careful with you, no intention of worsening the wound and bruises you were currently sporting. “Good - g-goodnight, Y/n,” she replied, glad, and a little more relaxed to know that you would be safe, now, before she returned her attention to you, a pained expression on her face; she dreaded what the night ahead might be like, knowing that you wouldn’t be by her side, this time, and you would smile sadly over at her; you could tell that this must be what she was currently thinking about, alongside you, and she would manage to reflect your smile for a brief moment, before she mouthed the three words ‘I love you’, and you wouldn’t hesitate to return them, as well as a faint ‘goodnight’ whilst the gardeners began to lead you both back toward the house, and to usher you into your bedrooms so they could lock the doors, and ensure that you both wouldn’t be able to get out, and to sleep within one another’s arms again, unwillingly determined - alongside the other workers - to keep you both apart this time.

🜸🜚🜸

Ever since you’d been beaten by her father, Vera couldn’t stop being reminded of that night, even after a few days had passed; she felt awful, and wished she’d done more to try and help you, when really there was nothing she could have done - she had struggled in an attempt to escape the hold the gardeners had on her, only to fail as there were too many of them, by which point he had already been pulled off of you by her mother, and the other set of gardeners who had been holding you before you’d escaped them, and made to fight her father in an attempt to protect her, another fact that also made her feel guilty for not being able to try and protect you after you had made to protect her without hesitation.

With the reminder of that night, and her guilt plaguing her mind, she would find herself not speaking as much as she used to to both Violet, and you whenever you managed to find yourselves in the same room together, except you found it was a lot harder to be alone with her, like her father had made clear it would be the night you’d been discovered to be together by Elizabeth, Vera’s youngest sister. Whenever you did manage to interact with her, she always seemed to be quite distant, and relatively quite dismissive of you, and though it was painful, you found you couldn’t blame her; you, too, felt as if you were to blame for that night, even more so when she decided to approach you one day, only to tell you that she thought it would be better for you both to go back to being friends so she could instead focus on her fiancé, General Maxwell, and though she longed to tell you that she was doing it to protect you upon noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, as if you had just lost everything, and your heart was shattering, she knew that maybe she would still end up hurting you if you kept trying to convince her that she’d never hurt you before; that the events of that night were your fault, and not her’s, to which she knew she’d never be able to corroborate without being in even more excruciating pain, herself, when it was already painful enough to be doing this to you.

“I’m sorry,” Vera concluded in a strained manner, “I-.. I just think it would be the best thing to do for the both of us, but-.. at least we’ll remain to be best friends, right?”

“Right,” you managed, your voice close to a whisper whilst you mustered up a weak smile back at her, “I should-.. c-continue with my work, I guess - see you around, V.”

You would then meander around her, walking hastily toward the library door; you’d recently finished cleaning it, and surprisingly when you had managed to, that was when she’d entered the room upon convincing herself that the only way for her to truly protect you from the wrath of her father, and most likely the law, would be to end her romantic involvement with you, no matter how much it pained her excruciatingly to do so.

“See you around,” she returned faintly, trying to stop her voice from trembling by biting down a little on her tongue; she hated every second of what she was doing, and wished she could take it back as soon as she had allowed the suggestion to slip from her lips, but she would instead try and fight back her emotions to the best of her ability, until you left the room, and closed the door behind you, and once she’d heard that it had closed, and sensed that you were no longer close to her - another excruciating feeling to be aware of as she hated being away from you, and had even begun to feel lost again once the deed had been done, and you were gone - she would allow herself to break down, sinking down onto the sofa you both used to cuddle up upon together whilst she cried, and sobbed uncontrollably into her hands, wishing there was another way to protect you, but she couldn’t think of any that didn’t present any possible threats toward the both of you being hurt again, and she was terrified that maybe she would soon lose you again, somehow. It was strange, but she could feel that something bad would soon occur, as if things hadn’t been bad enough recently, but she wouldn’t realise what the feeling might mean, until a couple more darker days had passed, and the wedding between her and General Maxwell was even faster approaching.

🜸🜚🜸

Though she had been trying to hide that she still had feelings for you, Vera found herself often wishing - whenever you were in the same room (sadly never alone) - that she could wrap her arms around you, and coo sweet nothings to you whilst she left delicate kisses along the soft skin of your neck, and right shoulder; she missed the feeling, and even more so missed the feeling of her lips blissfully fitting together with your’s in the best way possible; it was hard not to kiss you, especially when you were close to her, and not to hold you as she felt warm and fuzzy and more relaxed than she had ever been whenever she was holding you, or being held by you, as if nothing could hurt her, or perturb her whilst she was within your embrace, or holding you as if you were one of the teddy bears her mother had got her when she was smaller. It was painful for her even to imagine how these were feelings she might never experience again, after she’d suggested it would be better for you both to just remain best friends in an attempt to protect you from being hurt anymore than you already had by her father a week or so ago, now.

However, it wasn’t long before she realised that she’d never be able to truly protect you without you getting scathed somehow; her father was making sure to - whenever he got the chance - regularly beat you outside in the garden, as if what he had already done to you wasn’t enough, no matter how much she begged him to stop - he wouldn’t even listen to her mother, Gertrude, whenever she witnessed him beating you, and suggested that you’d had enough, now, and reminded him that you needed to be in good condition to go on working, but that only encouraged him to beat you before you could retire dejectedly to your room within the maids’ quarters, leaving her unsure of what to suggest in an attempt to help you any further than she had tried to - he’d never stop hurting you, believing you had made Vera the way that she was; inverted, like you, when she knew she’d been born this way, and was proud of it - always would be, no matter what they thought of her, and you.

Alongside his beatings of you, he would often invite General Maxwell over whenever he was available to further hurt you, especially by making it so that you had to clean the living room whilst they were all in the room together talking so you had to listen, and absorb painfully every word regarding his and Vera’s wedding day. You didn’t think it could get any worse than this, until he ensured Vera be included within the talks about their future together, only making the pain you were now constantly in even harder to bear than it was, before, leaving you on the verge of breaking down in front of them each time, so you would try and make sure that you were faced away from the group, not wanting to give Vera’s father the satisfaction of seeing you broken, the way he’d been intending to make you ever since he had discovered through Elizabeth, his youngest daughter, that you and Vera had been having a most likely illegal affair.

On one of these occasions, you felt more lost, hopeless, and terrified than you ever had before, prompting you to grow desperate to try and fix things between you and Vera, especially after you had caught her staring guiltily over at you whilst her fiancé and father was talking about their plans to have children in the future - apparently they had discussed it, and she hadn’t told you, when really this came as a surprise to her as he’d never mentioned it to her before, or even asked her if she wanted to have children with him, and that was why - after you’d looked over at her, and briefly locked eyes with her blissfully, prompting your hearts to skip a beat alongside one another - Vera would break the eye contact you were making so unexpectedly to look up fearfully at General Maxwell, prompting you to falter, a pained expression on your face, before you begrudgingly returned your attention to the fireplace you were currently in the process of cleaning whilst they talked, only pushing you even closer to the edge, and making you feel as if you no longer had anything to live for anymore like you had, before you felt as if you had lost Vera again.

“The wedding’s in what-? A couple of weeks, now?” Vera’s father spoke up whilst they began to wrap up the conversation, getting up off of the sofa whilst Vera awkwardly looked on at them, occasionally looking between them both, and you, whenever she got the chance to steal a glance at you, finding herself wishing she could be alone with you - she could tell this was hurting you as excruciatingly as it was hurting her, and she longed to try and provide comfort to you to the best of her ability, terrified that maybe you’d run away, if she didn’t, or would try and hurt yourself, somehow, or even take your life, and all of these possibilities would panic her even more, prompting her to silently beg them to go, knowing maybe she’d have enough time to pass you, and delicately squeeze your hand a little to remind you that she was still there for you, no matter what, before being suspected by her father of trying to do anything more with you, like talk to you, hug you, or kiss you, something he had forbidden her to do now by threatening your health if he ever caught her and you together making contact of any kind. “Me and Gertrude can’t wait,” he continued, “we’re ecstatic; we’ve been waiting to get Vera married off for a while, now - haven’t we, darling girl?”

“That’s because you kept letting in the - bad ones,” Vera uttered, subconsciously grimacing over at General Maxwell in secret; she hated that she wasn’t able to call him all the names she could think of for him in his presence, knowing her father would most likely beat her, too, if she tried, but she wasn’t afraid of him glaring at her subtly the way he was, now; he could tell that she was including General Maxwell within that list, and evidently was silently seething upon being reminded of your and her affair, “you can’t take anyone having certain - expectations, or ideals, can you?”

“Well I’m flattered to hear that I meet your expectations, Miss Alfrey,” General Maxwell remarked, and she would force a smile over at him, “though I already knew I would because I’m immensely popular with ladies like yourself-”

“Immensely popular?” Vera mused subconsciously, and the general would appear taken aback by her interruption, suggesting that she was doubting his statement, something that evidently displeased him as he awkwardly cleared his throat, before clenching his right fist a little; he knew he couldn’t hit her, not yet; it was something he was used to doing, and that’s why he had many ex-wives - some of them had fled from him, and divorced him, whilst others had sadly not been so lucky to escape the beatings he’d administered to them for disagreeing with him, or refusing to tend to some of his certain requirements.

“Vera,” her father warned, and she would begrudgingly give in, though she was pleased to see she had achieved a reaction from the both of them, whilst you appeared nervous, trying to secretly watch them as you were worried about her getting hurt, somehow - you would have however been amused by her remark, if you hadn’t seen her father hit her the way he did the night he beat you. “Anyway - it was nice having you round, General, and I hope you soon find time to come around again someday, either before, or after the wedding would be a good time for all of us, I hope,” he suggested, and General Maxwell would nod, before walking up to the door, and waiting for her father to open it for him, which he did hastily to remain in his good graces.

“I’m sure I could fit in one more day before the wedding,” he answered, and her father would appear glad, excited to hurt you even more, no doubt; he could tell that him having both the general and Vera in the same room as you had had the desired effect he wanted due to how you’d been trying to hide your face from them, and had been making sure to keep your head low - at one point he’d even heard you sniffling quietly, suggesting you had been crying whilst they were talking, “I’ll send you a telegram of the days in question and you can send one back to me of the best day for you and Miss Alfrey.”

“Sounds like a good plan, general,” her father replied, “let me escort you to the front door with Vera.”

“Thank you,” the general responded simply, before stepping out of the room accompanied by her father, and she would then make to follow them whilst you silently found yourself begging her to stay with you; begging her to hold you close to her whilst you cried into the crook of her neck, kissed her, and hugged her tightly - you’d missed having moments like those with her in which you were both blissfully intertwined with one another as if nothing else mattered; only you and her existed, and were the last people to be alive on earth, loving each other as if you were ruling the world together, and only had eyes for one another, and nobody, or nothing else; you could only revel in each other’s presence, and you wished this could be the case; being stuck to her side as her lover was all you could ever want, but it seemed to be impossible, now, and it was excruciating to be constantly reminded of how you both used to be together - so in love, and addicted to one another, but you doubted she’d ever want, or love you again the way you still wanted, and loved her, and knew you always would.

However, when you felt the fingers of her left hand briefly intertwine with the fingers of your currently slightly trembling right one, you would begin to feel hopeless again, and would break down as soon as you lost physical contact with her, shakily mustering out the word ‘wait’ before she could leave the room, prompting her to falter, a pained expression on her face whilst she stood at the door, before glancing back at you whilst her heart ached excruciatingly alongside your’s; you had begun to cry again, and she couldn’t bear to see you like this, wishing she’d never let any of this happen; never let herself accept General Maxwell’s hand; she longed to remain loyal to you, and you only, but it was hard now that her fear of you being hurt anymore than you had been already had been heightened by her father beating you the way he had after he’d found out about your and her affair a few days ago, now.

“V, please-.. don’t-.. don’t do this,” you begged her, and she would feel even worse, her eyes darkening a little whilst she bowed her head to try and hide that tears had begun to cloud her vision again, “you know I still love you, and I know you still love me-”

“I don’t still love you,” she contradicted, prompting you to fall quiet for a moment, a hurt look on your face whilst she tried to recompose herself as if what she was saying wasn’t hurting her, too, “and even if I did, what business is it of your’s?”

“How would it not be my business?” You questioned, and she would frown, before trying to think of an answer, not sure, now, but before she could stammer out a response, you would continue, desperate to fix all that had recently been broken before you could truly lose her, knowing you’d never be able to go on living if you did. “V, I - I need you; I can’t do this without you; I can’t live without you-”

“Why would you even think I still have feelings for you, Y/n? We’re best friends, and that’s all we can be, now-”

“I could feel it,” you stated, surprising her as she glanced up at you, and you would falter upon noticing that she had begun to cry alongside you, prompting your heart to sink even further than it already had, somehow, “w-when you looked at me, and when you held my hand.” You then couldn’t help, but smile softly subconsciously whilst you recalled how blissful both moments had briefly been, and felt, before they’d sadly passed. “I loved it, V; I loved it when you touched me with your eyes, and felt me with mine,” you mused, before timidly inching closer to her, and she found she couldn’t move, glancing down at your lips longingly whilst you both began to feel warm and fuzzy, revelling in the feeling of being so close to one another again, “I love you, Vera Alfrey, a-and-.. I always will, I promise, even if you do decide to marry the general; I will never stop waiting for you, as long as-.. as long as you tell me you still love me, l-like - like I love you.”

Vera would hesitate, though it was taking everything within her to stop her from admitting to you her feelings for you, longing to make you happy again by reassuring you that she did still love you, and knew she always would, and she might have gone through with it, until she was reminded of her father’s threat when she heard him shouting for her to follow him and the general, prompting her heart to sink, and her eyes to darken again whilst she shook her head gravely, and would step back; she couldn’t let you get hurt anymore than you already had, knowing that you most likely would if she got back together with you. Of course her reaction disheartened you, prompting a strained sob to escape your lips whilst you shook your head hastily, and would try and get closer to her only to have her move away once more, prompting you to falter whilst you began to feel empty, and lost again, as if everything within you was collapsing, and your heart was failing you; you couldn’t believe - after everything you had both been through together - that you were losing her like you could excruciatingly see you were, but at the same time you couldn’t blame her, believing you only had yourself to blame for supposedly driving her away from you being the way that you were, when it had been her father’s abusive, and threatening tendencies that had been dissuading her from you; she couldn’t let him do anything more to you, and so was determined to try and protect you from him doing so to the best of her ability, no matter how much it pained you both following her attempting to do so.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but-.. you should move on, now,” she advised, trying not to allow her voice to tremble by biting down on her tongue for a brief moment whilst she lowered her gaze again to hide that more tears had invaded her stunning icy blue eyes, “I did, a-and you won’t regret it, I promise - will you try and do that, for me?”

“Of course, Miss Alfrey,” you murmured, before returning to your work, and she would frown, not wanting you to think you couldn’t call her ‘V’ anymore, but before she could reassure you that you could, her father would impatiently call for her again, and she could hear his footsteps fast approaching, prompting her to wince, and grow worried that he would hurt you again, but at the same time she found it felt wrong to leave you like this, “you-.. you should go, before-.. before he hurts you; he sounds mad, a-and-.. your fiancé’s probably waiting to say goodbye; don’t leave him hanging, or he’ll start fretting that maybe a nobody like me means something to you-”

“Y/n,” Vera whined; she hated hearing you putting yourself down like you just had, and wished she could do more for you, somehow; wished she could take back the time, and fix all that had gone wrong between you both recently to try and make both you and her happy again, “d-don’t say stuff like that; you’re not a nobody-”

“I’m a nobody to everyone,” you uttered, “I always have been - I don’t know why I ever thought things could be different, after my parents chose death over me-”

“That’s not true; you mean everything to me, and your parents had no choice; they were sick, Y/n, and Auntie Isabella said nobody had developed a cure yet for an illness like the one they had,” she reminded you, and you would scoff, evidently not believing her, before you got up, and poured the dust, as well as Teddy’s fur into the bin bag you had been using to collect up the remnants of fur and dust within the room, “it’s true - kitty, please, don’t go like this, t-thinking such things about yourself, and your parents, because nothing of what you think right now is true-”

“Except for one thing,” you managed feebly, your voice briefly trembling whilst you did, before you stopped by the door of the living room to glance back at her dejectedly, “I love you, Vera Alfrey, and that’s all I truly know now - I’m sorry I wasted your time.” You then pushed yourself to leave the room, hastily walking toward the dining room to set up the table ready for them to be served their dinner whilst tears streamed down your cheeks, and you would try and fight back the remaining sobs fighting to escape your lips; you’d told a lie - your love for her wasn’t the only thing you knew, now. The other fact you were certain of was that by the end of the day, you would no longer exist, not without her.

🜚

After Vera had finally managed to get her father off her case for the day following her being forced, and refusing to eat dinner whilst she awkwardly sat at the dinner table - knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to dismiss herself to go and look for you, no matter how much she longed to do so, getting a bad feeling again, as if something was wrong, concerning you - she would hastily rush around the house, desperate to find you, and make sure that you were okay to quiet her panicked mind, but despite her efforts, you were nowhere to be found within it, further terrifying her, and fuelling her suspicions that you’d run away, or had done something to yourself.

It wasn’t long after she’d failed to find you that she began to find herself on the verge of breaking down again, tears clouding her vision whilst she hopelessly looked back through the rooms she had already searched, not sure what else to do, until she was reminded of the lake you both often liked to sit together by whenever you got the chance to during the night, finding it was relaxing, and a nice place to be to forget about her family, and her fast approaching marriage to General Maxwell, allowing you to focus on one another, and the love you held, and knew you always would hold, for each other, and the reminder of the location would prompt her instantly to rush down the stairs, only to be stopped by Violet, bumping into her in the hallway; she looked as if she were preparing to go to bed, already, but Vera found herself too worried about you to wonder why Violet would want to retire upstairs so early - little did she know, Violet couldn’t take anymore of their mother and father bickering about how he was treating Vera and you; it was tiring to listen to considering the fact she knew that her father would always win the argument, no matter what her mother might come up with, her arguments making more sense than his ever could whenever he was in a state of rage and frustration whenever the subject of your and Vera’s affair was brought up the way it had been not too long ago, now, in the living room whilst Vera had desperately been searching for you around the house, only to fail, and conclude that you must be outside somewhere - most likely by the lake.

“V-? Where have you been?” Violet questioned sleepily, and Vera would wince, trying to recompose herself for a moment, before she managed to stammer out a response a little shakily; she was terrified of getting to the lake, and finding you not there, and couldn’t imagine what her life might be like without you in it, if you had decided to run away somewhere without her.

“I - I can’t find Y/n,” she answered, and Violet would realise, before frowning whilst she, too, began to appear worried about you; it wasn’t like you to just disappear like you evidently had, “can - can you help me?”

Violet would then nervously look toward the living room - either their mother, or father had coughed - before she expressed relief, and would nod hastily; she couldn’t not help look for you; you were her friend, too, and she knew you and Vera meant a lot to one another, so naturally didn’t want to see either of you getting hurt anymore than you already had by losing each other, somehow, knowing the happiest you both had ever been was during the moments you spent together as she’d never seen you both happier outside of those moments.

“Of course I can, come on - we’re going to find her together, I promise,” she answered, and Vera would express relief, before she exasperatedly replied ‘thank you’, and would follow closely behind her out the back door so they could both sneak around the cornfield, and rush toward the lake quite low to remain unseen, until they had successfully made it off of the property, and therefore had reached the lake after running a few more paces only to be stopped in their tracks by the blurry sight of a figure in a white night gown at the bottom of it, and small traces of blood lingering by the edge of it - someone had tried to drown themselves, and Vera couldn’t shake her suspicions; the blood was fresh, and the night gown reminded her of your own: it had to be you.

🜚

Violet would gasp beside her upon the both of them finding the body in the lake, not sure how to react, until Vera had convinced herself there might still be time for her to try and bring you back to her, and without hesitation she would then dive into the water, and push herself to swim down to the body, allowing her to see that it was your’s, now, prompting her heart to begin pounding whilst she grew even more desperate to get you out, and Violet would watch anxiously, not sure what to do; she even couldn’t help, but begin to cry quietly whilst she begged Vera silently to come back, terrified of what might happen to her if she stayed under the water for too long, but she was determined to save you, and vowed to not emerge from the lake without you in her arms.

Once she had finally managed to get down to you, she would hastily wrap her arms around you, surprised to find that you were heavier than you usually were, and that was when she noticed the pockets of your night gown - they were full of something, but she wasn’t worried about that right now, focused only on saving you as she pushed herself to swim back up to the surface whilst still holding you close to her, allowing herself to breathe, and splutter a little once she had broke the surface of the lake. Upon noticing her, Violet would express relief, before she encouraged for her sister to move closer so she could help her and you back onto the ground.

Vera would - though she was beginning to tire at this point - push herself to continue swimming back toward her sister, and would be relieved once she felt that she was back on the grass, you still within her arms. As soon as Violet noticed you, she would appear shocked, wondering how this had happened to you, until Vera laid you down on your back, and would tearfully lift her left hand up to your right cheek whilst she begged you shakily to wake up, feeling more lost, and scared than she ever had before upon finding that you were in the state you currently were - unconscious, and barely breathing, except whenever you did breathe she could hear it sounded wheezy, further worrying her as she realised that your lungs must have been invaded by the water making up the lake.

“We should try and get help for her,” Violet mused, “I could, if you want to stay?”

“No, d-don’t,” she answered hastily whilst she protectively cradled your body close to her again, “they’ll only try and take her away from me-”

“Yeah, but-.. if we don’t-.. Y/n could die, you know that, right?” Violet reminded her, and Vera would falter, before shaking her head; she was determined to save you herself, somehow, and Violet would frown, before deciding to respect her decision, and crouch down beside you both whilst Vera laid you back down again carefully, and would try and listen to hear if your heart was still beating, but she couldn’t hear much over her own heart pounding, overwhelming her.

“I - I need to try and get her heart to beat again,” she mused shakily, “I can’t hear it-”

“Try doing the chest compressions we saw mum do on Auntie Isabella,” Violet suggested, “it sounds like she’s still breathing, so it could work-”

“Y-Yeah, but - Auntie Isabella died that day anyway-”

“That was different,” she insisted, “hurry, V, or else we’ll lose Y/n, too.”

“Okay, e-erm,” she responded, “I’ll try.” Vera would then try and calm herself down, before she began to perform the chest compressions on you, silently begging at the same time for you to return to her whilst Violet tried to listen for your heart beat, hoping against hope alongside her that you would soon wake up so they could both try and make you happy again after all that had recently happened between you and Vera. “C-Can you hear anything?” She inquired, her voice briefly trembling whilst she was finding herself trying not to break down again, terrified that today might truly be the day she ended up losing you, as well as herself, and this thought would prompt her heart to begin overwhelmingly pounding again, making her feel sick, but she found she couldn’t worry about whether she was about to be sick, or not, especially not whilst you were in the state you currently were.

“I’m not sure; it’s - it’s so quiet; I’m scared, V-”

“I’m not losing her again,” she interjected feebly, before continuing with the compressions to the best of her ability, determined to bring you back to her, somehow.

“I can’t even tell if she’s breathing anymore,” Violet murmured dejectedly, “Vera, maybe-.. maybe it’s too late; maybe she’s already-..”

“She’s not dying, Violet!” Vera cried, and then couldn’t hold it back any longer as a strained sob would escape her lips, before she doubled over, and would try and get you to start breathing again, though it was a struggle for her to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation after she had begun to break down. “I’m not-.. I can’t lose her,” she added shakily in a voice close to a whisper whilst she buried her face into the crook of your neck, and would cry quietly into it, not sure what else to do as she began to feel lost, and numb all of a sudden, as if she was being hollowed out by the possibility of you dying on her, “please come back, kitty - I’m so sorry, I-.. I should never have let any of this happen, I know, I-.. I love you so much; I could never stop, n-no matter what. Y-You know what? I’d even-..” She then affectionately connected her forehead to your’s whilst she lifted her right hand up to your left cheek, and Violet would watch you both with a pained expression on her face. “I’d even follow you to the ends of the universe if you asked me to,” she expressed, “just-.. please come back, and I swear I’ll try and do things differently this time; I’ll try and fix everything, b-because-.. you’re more important to me than life itself, and I’m not ready to lose you; I’ll never be ready to lose you, so please don’t go when we have so many more memories to make together - please, Y/n.”

“V,” Violet began again gently, but Vera wouldn’t dare acknowledge her, focusing instead on you whilst she began to try and get your heart beating again, “V, stop, she’s-”

You then began to splutter out the water that had invaded your lungs whilst you coughed, and occasionally choked on it, crying quietly whilst Vera’s eyes began to glint, and heart would skip a beat whilst she held you close to her, and would smile lovingly down at you, elated to find that she hadn’t lost you like she had previously feared she would.

“Hey,” she cooed whilst you sobbed quietly, and weakly into her right shoulder, trembling within her embrace; you were evidently in shock after what you’d just experienced, “hey, it’s okay now, kitty; you’re okay - I’ve got you, a-and I’m never letting you go again, I-.. I love you so much, a-and I always will, no matter what, I promise-”

“V?” You mustered in a voice weak, barely audible, and quite raspy voice; you didn’t think she’d come looking for you after all that had happened between you both recently, prompting your heart to sink upon remembering it, and your eyes to darken a little. “V, why-.. why did you-? I thought-..” You then winced; your voice was failing you again, and it was evidently straining your lungs to try and continue, worrying Vera as she shook her head, and would delicately connect her lips to your’s for a moment to prompt you to fall quiet, and instantly melt into the kiss whilst you began to feel warm and fuzzy, your heart blissfully racing alongside her’s in the best way possible the way you’d missed to feel it do recently.

“You need to rest, now,” she advised, “you’ve already been through enough tonight, a-and-.. I won’t-.. ask you yet if-.. if this was an accident, I-..”

“I thought I lost you earlier, V,” you admitted dejectedly, prompting her heart to sink whilst she nodded gravely, wishing she’d never been so distant with you, now; she doubted this would have happened if she’d told you the truth earlier; told you that she still loved you, and was just trying to protect you from her father to the best of her ability after she’d seen you getting beaten by him a few times now, and it was excruciating to know that she couldn’t do anything more about it, knowing her father would never stop, until he’d beaten you to death, or until you couldn’t work anymore, and he’d have to then throw you back out onto the streets, but she was determined to find a way to stop him, somehow; determined to not let him hurt you anymore - she was certain she could, and couldn’t bear to even think about the possibility of you getting hurt anymore than you already had after today. “I didn’t know what to do anymore,” you mustered feebly whilst small tears managed to leak from your eyes again, and she wouldn’t hesitate to delicately brush them away using the thumb of her right hand, whilst finding herself fighting back her own tears again; she couldn’t believe she’d driven you to try and take your life like that, “I’m so sorry-”

“No,” she interjected, not wanting you to feel as if you had to apologise when she blamed herself for not telling you the truth earlier, “Y/n, don’t-.. don’t apologise, it’s my fault-”

“That’s not true,” you whined; you believed you were to blame for it, being the way that you were, and deciding to try and take your life the way you had - you could have stopped yourself from leaving cuts along your arms; you could have stopped yourself from filling the pockets of your nightgown with the stones, and you could have stopped yourself from then throwing yourself into the lake to sink to the bottom of it. “V, I was the one who tried to take my life, in the first place; you-.. you had nothing to do with it, I swear-”

“You would never have done it if I’d told you the truth, earlier,” she contradicted, a hurt look on her face whilst the tears would manage to escape her stunning icy blue eyes, prompting you to falter, not sure what to say, but you still shook your head subconsciously, not wanting her to think that she had been the one to make you do something like this to yourself, “I should never have treated you like that, I-.. I should have just been honest, and told you that I still wanted you, a-and could only ever want you; I was just acting as if I no longer felt the same way because I thought that I’d be protecting you if I did; I never thought-.. thought that I’d make you want to-.. do this to yourself.. I guess I should have thought about that before-.. before I said all that I did to you earlier. W-Where did the blood come from?”

“I just-.. accidentally tripped over again, a-and-.. I’m fine, now,” you tried to reassure her, but you could tell that she knew you were lying to her when you noticed the crestfallen expression on her face; she couldn’t believe she’d driven you to hurt yourself so much, “don’t worry about me.”

“Just-.. promise me something,” she requested, and you would nod hastily; you’d do anything for her, “promise me you’ll never-.. never try and do this to yourself again - I can’t live without you, a-and - I really thought that maybe I’d lost you back there; it was painful, Y/n, a-and I honestly don’t think I can take it again-”

“You’ll never have to, I promise,” you tried to reassure her, “I’ll never do it again, I swear, n-not now that I know that you do still want me, t-though I can’t imagine why-”

“Hey,” she interrupted gently, “of course I still want you; you’re everything to me, kitty, a-and that’s never going to change, I promise, n-no matter what - you mean so much more to me than you think you do, and I swear I’m going to try and prove my feelings for you from now on; I’m gonna get rid of the General for us, and we’ll run away together, h-how does that sound?”

“T-That sounds - amazing,” you answered whilst you appeared flustered for a moment; you didn’t think she’d still want to run away with you after what had happened the time you had both tried to run away before, “I’d love that, V; I love you so much, y-you know that, right?”

“You guys are putting me to sleep, stop,” Violet teased, prompting you both to giggle softly together, before you smiled lovingly up at one another, easily getting yourselves lost within each other’s eyes, “get a room, seriously; you look like you need one-”

“Violet,” Vera replied, evidently also growing to be flustered alongside you, prompting her sister to begin giggling alongside you, too, amused by her reaction, “haven’t you got that birthday ball to get to tomorrow? You must need some sleep for it, surely.”

“I guess you’re right, but - I’m not going to bed, until you both do,” she decided, prompting Vera to grin, before she shook her head, and would glance back down at you whilst Violet would appear smug, “besides - you have to go with me to it, remember? I may as well go to bed when you do.”

Vera would then wince upon remembering how she’d agreed - reluctantly - to attend the ball tomorrow; it was only because her sister had practically begged her, not wanting to go without her as she didn’t often tend to get along with Elizabeth, their younger sister, that well, especially after she’d ratted her and you out to their father upon walking in on you both kissing.

“I forgot I agreed to that,” she admitted, and you couldn’t help, but grin when you noticed the look on her face, finding it adorable, like you believed her entire being to be, “I’m so sorry - kitty, do - do you think you’d be able to come, too, or-?”

“I guess I could try and sneak in,” you mused, before shrugging, and smiling sheepishly up at her upon noticing her eyes glinting again, and that she was silently begging you with them to keep you both company, “I’d love to; I - I’d do anything for you, V.”

Vera would appear flustered, wondering what she had done to deserve someone as good as you, before she smiled warmly down at you, and would timidly lean down to delicately connect her lips to your’s again, prompting you to instantly melt into the kiss whilst you wrapped your arms around her waist blissfully, and she would return the hug, soothing you as you melted into her embrace, wondering the same thing; you never thought someone as perfect as her would ever love a supposed nobody like you, until the night you had both first properly kissed, and made love following you both finally confessing to having feelings for one another.

Once the kiss had sadly ended, you would wear a dazed expression on your face; it would always amaze you to feel how much every kiss you both shared always seemed to be as perfect, or even more perfect than the first had been.

“I’d do anything for you, too,” she returned whilst she affectionately connected her forehead to your’s, lifting her right hand up to your left cheek against whilst you both admired one another’s eyes, and found yourselves longing to kiss again, though you knew it was most likely awkward for Violet to be watching the way she currently was, not sure what to do with herself whilst you both couldn’t help, but be all over each other the way you were, now, addicted to one another, and revelling within each other’s presence, “a-and I’m going to do more to prove that to you, I promise-”

“No, V,” you interjected gently, “you don’t have to; I - I already know you would; you have nothing to prove to me, so please don’t ever worry that maybe I’m doubting your feelings for me, b-because-.. because I could never do that to you - I guess I just have these moments sometimes when I think you deserve better than me; t-that I’m not enough for you, and I wish I could stop, but-.. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she cooed, soothing you instantly, and making you feel warm and fuzzy again, “s-soon you’ll never have to worry about having doubts like that again, I promise, because even if you don’t want me to prove my feelings for you, I’m never going to stop, but you probably knew that already, knowing me.”

“I thought you’d say that,” you agreed, before smirking up at her, “and you probably won’t be surprised to hear that I’m never going to stop trying to prove my feelings for you, either.”

“I’m glad,” she remarked, before longingly brushing her lips against your’s, until she remembered Violet, and begrudgingly would force herself to pull away, and smile over at her sister whilst you would wince, before doing the same; you both often easily seemed to get lost, and absorbed within one another in the best way possible to the point that it often felt as if you were the only two people left on earth, “well - I guess we should get back inside before anyone starts wondering where we are, and we don’t want to be tired tomorrow, do we? Especially not when we have some dancing to do.”

You would appear surprised, as well as a little nervous as you weren’t used to dancing, but you would try and hide this from her, worried about what she might think of you if you admitted to this, so instead you would agree alongside Violet, before beaming up at Vera again.

“I can’t wait,” you chimed, when really you were terrified; you knew you’d only embarrass yourself in front of her if you tried to dance with them both, though you couldn’t imagine why as you knew she wouldn’t be upset with you for not telling you something like that, “I - I love dancing.”

“Good, because that means you’ll love the ball,” she replied, “come on - let me carry you back; I want you to get some rest for tomorrow; you need it-”

“No, V, you - you don’t need to do that for me; I think I can walk-”

“Too bad,” she remarked, before picking you up carefully off of the ground, prompting you to squeak, before you clung to her shoulders, and would bury your face into the crook of her neck whilst she giggled in response to your reaction, “I’m not making you walk back; you’ve been through enough today - come, Violet; you need sleep too.”

“I’d love some,” Violet stated, before getting up off of the ground, and following Vera back toward the house so you could sneak back inside through the back door, before rushing up to your rooms; the maids’ quarters would already be locked, so you could join Vera within her own bedroom to cuddle up with her, and fall asleep blissfully within her arms like you both used to, before her father had beat you the night you’d both tried to run away together, despite you both still being in your damp clothes, but you wouldn’t get any sleep that night, silently worrying about how she might react when she finds out at the ball tomorrow how terrible a dancer you really are, and always have been.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️

[usagimen]

    Actually, it might be best to break it down Sayuri’s approach on sexuality.                            Under the cut for obvious reasons

Yes, she’s never had sex thus, she is still a virgin. There is no religious, moral, or some righteous meaning behind it - she is constantly busy. Forming a connection with her is somewhat tricky, considering she is the type to avoid genuine romance as there is a fear of becoming vulnerable. It also plays into her inadequacy, the feeling she is not enough or will harm the one she loves, while tethered to the inherent belief from youth; in this life, nothing is yours. It does stem from the ideology that one embarks becoming a Geiko, they forfeit themselves && the entirety of their heart. They are to be loved but never have their own.

 If that makes sense! This is extremely archaic && not used today, however, since her clan operates in olden beliefs, it was stressed marriage is purely political - aligning oneself with another is solely for gain && benefit. Sayuri was in love, she held it so tight that her heart would burst, although she is someone who works on the theory that if whoever I love is happy elsewhere - then I’m just as happy. It is a continuous vicious cycle of denial because she is scared who the real Sayuri is would never be enough. This isn’t to say as a virgin she hasn’t had sexual experiences, it just doesn’t approach that level of intimacy, which leaves her dreadfully lonely. In blunter terms; Miss Kobayashi hasn’t fucked, though she can give pretty great oral && instantly caves to anyone going down on her.

Her back is sensitive, tracing your fingertips against her spine is the quickest way to hear her softly moan. She’s tense, always stressed or her body is recovering from vigorous workouts. Sayuri is the ‘mom’ of any group, she is inclined to assure anyone younger is cared for or those who work in Tsubaki Cafe are safe. It comes with a downside && that is tension, carrying all that muscle is hard work too! On her spine is a tattoo similar to this (example), due to the nature of her skin being fragile in that area, she prefers to wear backless gowns or shirts, it accents her graceful neckline as well. This is not her weak point, don’t even think about that! It is also not her best ‘asset’ she believes it's her impossibly long legs that are stunning in heels that make her erotic - she’s right.

She isn’t a vocal partner, it takes time to warm up. It should also be stated, since Sayuri is impossibly petite, lubrication is important. Though, she is a humorous partner who tends to laugh or have a smile in each kiss. Whatever clothing you discard she will wear after, the remnants of her lipstick && perfume will bleed into everything, as her scent is meant to cling.  It leaves her presence behind && in some ways, that is her possessive nature breaking through. She prefers missionary, lotus position, or all fours when it comes to sex. If she really likes a partner, she has no problem riding them till exhaustion, she will giggle like mad pushing the limits until flipped over && pinned. Yes, anyone who is a brat tamer she will fall for.

Fancy lingerie is hit or miss, as a martial arts teacher, lace is rather scratchy when she’s in constant movement. She does tend to wear colorful or bright prints, even just all black while preferring fabric that moves with her. When she does work within the café, she will opt for more lacy or frilly things. If a partner tears her nice silk? They’re replacing it, she is mean about it. Both nipples are pierced along with her navel, she is contemplating a few more that are secretive, the diamonds she wears in both bars are worth a small fortune alone.

Like most sorcerers, her body is completely solid. She does not think too much on ‘lack of femininity’ since she finds the concept absurd. Had she achieved Geiko status, she still would be lean && muscular on the basis of dancing every night, in a way that already is her life. The average kimono with full accessories for a Geiko can weigh over ten pounds, walking to business && traveling in full costume is a daunting task, hence durability matters.

That’s another meta though altogether! Over the years she’s accumulated a few scars, the major one she holds is from purifying a deity. It’s rather massive && silvering, wrapping around the entirety of her left shoulder blade, in fact - that’s the only thing she seems to be self conscious about in terms of her physical form. Post-Shibuya she does acquire burn scars on her legs, while even declaring it would be odd if she wasn’t shattered a few times. Yes, this can essentially be remedied with RCT (Rotting Womb is pretty much that, cosmetic && meant to conceal or reshape anew) though she finds it superficial. The brief moments of doubt are simply her pondering the possibility if she could have been a gentler woman, which is an odd paradox to consider, she is a gentle woman just not in the conventional manner or what is expected societally for her. 

She sometimes keeps a neatly trimmed happy trail preferring hair within her intimate region rather than hairless. Stressing again, she is relaxed in who she is, thus there are times she prefers heart shape or just a strip. Ritualistic femininity has no place in Sayuri’s world, how she deems herself as a woman of sexual desire is solely on her own, whatever she prefers is solely for her benefit. 

Sayuri has a cute beauty mark on the top of her left breast, it's visibly seen whenever she wears dresses that are a bit too low, or her cleavage shows from plunging necklines. Give it kisses && she'll laugh the entire time, she is also considered busty underneath her sports bra's around a DD cup.

Kinks are pretty up in the air, you can curiously inquire, otherwise it’s another ‘show than tell’.   

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[frogtanii]

your palms were sweaty as you adjusted your slacks, making sure the pleats were where they should be with not a wrinkle in sight. you wanted to look professional and put together, at least on the outside, because you knew you were actually about .2 seconds away from falling apart.

your palms were sweaty as you adjusted your slacks, making sure the pleats were where they should be with not a wrinkle in sight. you wanted to look professional and put together, at least on the outside, because you knew you were actually about .2 seconds away from falling apart.

a quick glance to the boys at your sides notified you that they weren’t faring much better. atsumu kept fidgeting with his cufflinks, sakusa was so stiff you could knock him over with your pinky, kenma looked like he was about to pass out, bokuto was debating on squeezing under the table in front of you, kuroo was tapping a pattern on his pants (akeelah and the bee style), and akaashi kept reciting ominous poems under his breath.

the only people in the room who looked even remotely fine were osamu, oikawa, sugawara, daichi, and, surprisingly, yachi. osamu was munching on some peanuts that he pulled from... somewhere, while oikawa and sugawara were holding their own conversation by the window. daichi seemed to be minding his own business but you could never really get a proper read on him anyway.

well, you supposed yachi was okay because she knew what to expect. i mean, you were meeting her boss.

after you and kenma had posted your “exposing the hype(r) house” youtube video, an email had come to the both of you, inviting you to visit the “big boss” along with the rest of the crew.

you weren’t necessarily afraid of losing your job; the hype(r) house was already being dissolved and you were (finally!!!) getting to move in with makki and mattsun until you found your own place. you were genuinely excited to put the drama and literal hell behind you and begin to live your life again but...

that didn’t mean meeting the Man™ wasn’t terrifying. it was like being called into the principal’s office, complete with the existential dread and occasional bouts of gassiness.

the door opening made you flinch as you quickly moved out of the way to let the newcomers enter. while they walked past you, you couldn’t contain the shock that overtook your face, your jaw practically on the floor.

the man was massive.

built like a brick wall, the man who you assumed to be the “big boss,” had a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and massive fucking pecs, his white button up barely closing around them.

beside him stood a tall, lanky man who was dressed suspiciously un-office-like with a red buzz cut and wild eyes that seemed to cut into you as he took his place at the table.

the final man seemed a bit awkward in comparison to the other two, but he was trying to seem unaffected, his purple bowlcut, despite being rather juvenile, fitting perfectly with his slim but toned build and bright complexion.

yachi hurried to greet them, giving all three a blinding smile before motioning for everyone else to take a seat. you ended up between the redhead and atsumu, the former being way too entertained by just your general being. his eyes rarely, if ever, left your face sending shivers down your spine. the remaining members all hesitantly took their seats and “big boss” began.

“it is an honor to meet you all. i am ushijima wakatoshi but you can call me ushijima or wakatoshi or ushiwaka or toshijima or just ushi or just jima or just waka or just toshi.” for a moment you thought he was joking but his face never moved, not even with the awkward silence that followed. redhead seemed rather amused by the whole display and bowl cut looked like he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting.

it took an uncomfortably long moment for ushijima to proceed but he did as though nothing had happened. “these are my associates, satori—” redhead gave you a mischievous grin “—and tsutomu.”

“goshiki,” bowl cut interrupted, his voice wavering but his eyes gleaming with righteous indignation as though he was challenging wakatoshi to say something in defiance. instead, ushijima just gave him a nod and he visibly deflated back into his seat.

“goshiki is the social media manager for imla and satori is... satori,” big boss continued, not a hint of emotion on his face. the rest of the table perked up at his comment but atsumu was the only one who apparently had the balls to say anything.

“so yer the one who wrote that shitty among us tweet?” goshiki flushed horribly and sunk further into his plush leather chair, his body language showing he must’ve already gotten an earful about it. “thought it was a good idea,” he muttered while averting his eyes, completely ignoring satori’s cackle from across the wood.

ushijima put up a (massive???) hand to calm the both of them and it instantly worked. satori quieted down though he never lost the mirth in his expression and goshiki straightened up, a new wave of determination crossing his features.

you sat up as well, feeling the shift of energy in the room but you were startled to realize the boss had decided to focus his energy on you, his deep baritone voice calling your full name. “i am extremely sorry. we have failed you as a management team and as men. i have failed you.”

he sounded remarkably remorseful, his brown irises conveying heavy emotion and guilt. you had no idea what to say but he wasn’t done.

“although i do not have full control of the decisions that have been made here, i should have fought harder for what i believed was right and for that, i will forever be sorry.” you shifted uncomfortably under his weighty gaze, not that he noticed because his attention was swiftly taken by kenma at the opposite end of the room.

“who is in charge then? aren’t you like the ceo or whatever?” he asked. ushijima took a moment before nodding very slowly, his attention clearly on something in his head.

thankfully, satori rapidly took over the thread of conversation before the room could fall in tense silence yet again. “there’s a board of old, stuffy guys who basically kicked miracle boy wakatoshi to the curb and make all their decisions without him.”

...miracle boy? what did he have to do to earn that kind of nickname? you shook your head and tuned back in, just as the ceo spoke up once again.

“because i have not succeeded in doing my job properly, i have something to give to you,” ushijima deadpanned, sliding a thick envelope towards you. you carefully grabbed it and opened it up to reveal a thick, thick, wad of cash.

a gasp caught in your throat, words not coming to you as you thumbed through the money. there had to be at least $60k in there, your eyes filling with tears while you took in his generosity. “thank you,” you whispered, not trusting your voice to speak any louder.

wakatoshi nodded at you before addressing the rest of the table about something but you weren’t even listening.

you were so overwhelmed. for the longest time, you’d hated whoever management was for ignoring your pleas for help and trying to placate you with nice dresses and fancy dinners so meeting ushijima was quite the welcomed surprise.

despite everything that occurred, you could tell he felt horrible for letting things slide even though it was technically out of his hands and you couldn’t even articulate how much that meant to you.

the fact that he had gone out of his way to pay you extra, assumingly without the permission of the board, was heartwarming, confusing, shocking, and staggering all at once.

i mean, you could probably describe the past few months as exactly that. so much had happened, so much had changed, and while you could do without some of the life adjustments (the nightmares, spare trauma, and fear of public bathrooms to start), you felt blessed with new friends and the experiences that helped shape you to the person you were now.

the boys didn’t hate you anymore (well, not all of them at least and none were actively antagonizing you), you were seeing dr yamada again, you were getting to move in with your two best friends, you were just given enough money to expand your channel drastically, and you were finally feeling good. better than good.

meiko was behind you and though you missed the person she once was, you were so glad she was out of your life in a way where she couldn’t harm you or the boys any longer.

a grin spread across your face, your cheeks nearly burning from the intensity of it. things were definitely looking up.

a soft call of your name jolted you from your thoughts, your eyes landing on all the boys already standing as they got ready to leave the room. you could sense their worry and you shot them a genuine, reassuring smile before standing yourself.

you waved goodbye to the three men at the table, thanking ushijima profusely for his kindness but he shook you off, insisting that he had just been doing what he should’ve done a long time ago.

what a nice guy.

as you followed the boys out of the building, you took a moment to observe them together with fondness written all over your expression. they were laughing and joking around, the happiest and most carefree you had ever seen any of them. bokuto was begging yachi to get them ice cream, the rest of them piling on until she gave in with a playful roll of her eyes, giggling at the cheer that went up from the group.

atsumu seemed to notice you lagging behind, falling back to join you. “ya okay angel?” he asked, eyes focused on your feet as he slowed down to match your pace.

you didn’t answer for a while, instead focusing on the sun warming your cheeks, the cool breeze messing up your hair, and the sounds of pure joy swirling above you.

“i’m absolutely perfect.” you replied and you actually meant it. “race you to the van?” you sent him an impish grin before taking off, his yells of indignation making you laugh freely as the rest of the boys joined in, right on your heels.

this is it, you thought. no matter what, i’ll have this moment and i’ll be okay.

you’d been through hell and back and you’d survived. you’d been cursed at, choked out, hospitalized, and been beaten at mario kart more times than you could count and you had still made it through. you were resilient and strong and you’d never given up, despite how badly you’d wanted to, multiple times over.

things weren’t perfect, they rarely are, but you knew that if you could make it through all that, you could get through practically anything, especially with the boys by your side.

yeah. i’ll be just fine.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

bonus!!

“told you it sounded stupid as hell.”

“gah, stop talking about it!!”

“you sounded sooooo old ‘shiki, what are you, 92?”

“AAAAAAAAAA!!!”

“satori...”

“what’s up miracle boy?”

“...what is ‘sus’?”

℗ poker face

i’ll be just fine

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - AND THATS A WRAP FOLKS 🥳 wowowow did the ending give me trouble but that’s ok SISJSK the endings will be coming shortly but they might not be daily just cs they may take more time, who knows lmfao i’ll let y’all know :3 AAAA ANYWAYS ILY I HOPE U GUYS LIKED KITH KITH don’t forget to feed me <3

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[falling-pages]

A hug and chicken noodle soup: Takashi x Reader

Feel better @ohshcscenerios <3

-

Maybe love was as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Takashi Morinozuka x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None

-

Takashi was not used to being disobeyed.

The national martial arts champion, head of his own security firm, and father of three was used to holding power in his massive hands, for the room to fall silent at his command. He made the decisions, though with valid input from others, but he was the top dog, the one on whose authority they relied. Respect emanated from his veins, care and courage were his pedestal. When he gave an order, it was for the greater good of his company, or the safety of those he loved.

So when he returned home to find you washing the dishes, he was absolutely livid.

Not at your disobedience, per se. He was used to your sass, your jokes, your spitfire ways. Fourteen years of marriage would do that to a person, especially one as easygoing as him. But at your abject defiance, going against his advice for your own good--did you not trust him?

“What are you doing?”

You dropped the cup you were washing, the water splashing against your apron and the wall in retaliation. Soap bubbles clung to your arms, and with your deer-in-headlights stare, one would have thought he had just caught you stealing the Hope Diamond rather than just a simple chore.

“Takashi, I…” you sputter, wiping strands of hair away from your face. They had escaped from the bundle atop your head and creased your neck and forehead, though sticking with sweat or water he couldn’t be sure. If it were sweat, so help him, he was going to tie you down to the bed himself.

He left the shadows of the threshold and walked noiselessly towards you, groceries weighing heavily in his hands. You dare not move, pinned to the spot by his steely gaze. Your husband was a quiet man, not often prone to outbursts of emotions despite a wildly passionate heart. But like a predator towards prey, he came closer, until you saw the disappointment lining his brow.

Disappointment was always worse than anger.

But when he approached you, so close you could feel the energy radiating off his skin, so close but not touching, all that was left in his eyes was concern, a worried quirk on his lips that left knots in your stomach. Kindness framed him as he set down the groceries, took a towel, and wiped down your arms, leaving them soft and dry.

“I thought I told you to get some rest, love,” he whispered.

You swallowed, wincing at the ache in your throat. “I tried, I really did, but this was the only time I could get some chores done,” you whined. “The kids are with your parents this weekend, and it’s finally quiet and I can do stuff without worrying about watching them--”

“My parents took the children because you’re sick,” he responded, voice measured and even. His tone was stark, hands lingering on your wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but enough to remind you of his strength. “You need to rest. I told you I would do the dishes once I got back.”

“But I--”

“Darling.”

His eyes flickered with hurt, and though he was never a man prone to begging, he would do anything to stop you hurting. Every weak inhale you took he felt in his own lungs, trapped and weak and congested. With the raging fever you were sporting this morning, it was a wonder you were even standing right now.

With a sigh, you let the dish fall into the puddle and stepped off your footstool--everything in this house was freakishly tall to accommodate his height--as he untied your apron, hanging it on the peg behind you. While his hands wandered around your waist, enjoying how you felt in his embrace, he bent to press a kiss behind your ear.

“I hate it when you’re hurting,” he murmured.

His warm voice broke through the gauze wrapping around your brain, and you sighed, relaxing against his chest. So warm, the only stable thing in your swimming vision.

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” you said.

“Yes there is.” He scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and smashed his mouth against your neck, kissing and nuzzling your sweaty skin. “Go to bed, and I’ll make you some soup.”

Despite your squeals, broken and congested before they left your mouth, hiccupped and weak, you didn’t push him away, finally letting him baby you into bed. He walked seamlessly to your bedroom and pulled back the covers with you still clinging to his neck. As he lowered you down, you could have cried at how soft the sheets felt, cool silk against your sore muscles, warmth immediately drawing you into sleep. He layered the blankets on top of you before walking to the other side of the bed, climbing in and drawing the sheets around him before spooning you back against his chest.

His arms were rapture in and of themselves, an escape from your burning head and weak lungs, so tight and strong that you knew he would keep you safe from any sickness trying to harm you. His gentle breaths against your ear calmed your heart, tickling that part of your brain that sparked with love. Even as his lips traveled across your cheek you could barely find the energy to scold him.

“Taka,” you whined, as seriously as your hoarse voice would let you. “Stop...you’ll get sick…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, smooth and comforting like chocolate or rain. Another kiss to your temple, slicking down to the underside of your jaw. “My body has been through worse.”

Though that much was true, it still irritated you. How could he reprimand you for disobeying him and then not even listen when you do the same?

“‘S not the same,” you mumble. “Being shot is a different kind of pain, I’d imagine.”

Takashi chuckled against your neck. Your mind traced over the diagram of his body, the scars stretching across his chest and neck, dyeing his hands and striping through his legs. His line of work was dangerous, full of deceit and corruption, but you knew he’d never have it any other way. “You’re right, my love. A bullet hurts like hell.” He wrapped you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you welcomed the loving suffocation. “But I’d take them all over again if it meant you and our little ones were safe.”

Grisly and gruesome though his words were, they comforted you, lulled you into the security that he worked so hard to provide. Though you prayed it would never come to it, you knew he would lay down his life in a second to ensure yours or your children’s happiness. He even showed his love in less extreme ways--for example, forcing you to rest, holding you as you slept, even at the risk of his own health.

Over and over again you were amazed at the selfless love of the man you married.

Before you could even stop it, the tears were falling from your eyes, stinging the hot skin of your cheeks. Your heart felt full to bursting, and its hammering through your chest didn’t help at all. The world felt full of sunlight yet you clinched your eyes shut to keep in the tears, but they didn’t fool him.

Takashi felt you shake and quickly turned you over onto your back, laying you beneath him as he hovered above, one hand wiping your tears as the other held fast to your waist. “Look at me,” he whispered, the urgency in his voice making your eyes pop open. He stroked your cheek, running his finger along your nose, cooing and shushing until your gaze met his. And as soon as you saw that beautiful smile split his tan face, you knew everything would be okay.

“There she is,” he whispered, tenderly stroking beneath your eye. “Does it hurt that badly?”

“No,” you whispered. “It’s not the fever. It’s the feeling of being loved so terribly.”

Never a man of words, he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I love you so, so much.” A dry sob creases out your throat. “I’m so glad I married you, and I’m so glad you’re the father of my kids, and I’m so glad I not only know, but get to love such a wonderful man for the rest of my life.”

He chuckled at your delirious confession, words he had all heard before but sounded more tender in the context of your sickness. Such tenderness in your voice soothed the aches and quells of his body, the wounds he had sustained inside and out during his life, until all that was left was you with a rag and antiseptic and a bandage. He adored you so deeply that though he wanted to hear you say more, it was imperative that you rest.

“I’m so blessed to have you by my side. I love you,” he whispered, giving you a gentle kiss. He frowned at how hot your lips were and resigned himself for the afternoon. “Go to sleep, beloved. When you wake, I’ll make you soup.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, the crying finally tuckering you out. Pliantly, you rolled back over onto your side, and he laid back behind you, guiding your head to rest against his bicep and laying his other arm over your waist. As you drifted back off to sleep, you could only think of one thing.

Love really could be as simple as a hug and chicken noodle soup.

-

Kofi

[undersero]

addicted

this is my (several days late) piece for @seita's corrupt-a-virgin collab! thanks a bunch for letting me participate!

pairing: toru oikawa x fem reader

contains: unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, swearing, corruption and corruption kink, loss of virginity, very light dacryphilia.

word count: 3036

**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost my work or recommend it on any other platform**

“Oh, it feels good though, doesn’t it?” he chuckles, breath wafting over your face as his fingers press against your crotch through the fabric of your panties.

It does feel good and you think that’s the worst part of it all. Toru’s fingers feel good, they feel so fucking good in fact that you’re embarassed at the memories of your own fingers between your legs like this, desperately trying to get yourself off to no avail.

“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging your noses together gently, making you catch his gaze; his eyes are so dark now that they look like molten dark chocolate. It’s only seconds until you’re lost in them.

“Hm?” you mumble, face horribly warm.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” the response tumbles from your mouth without any prompting from your brain. Toru smiles at you, dazzling and breathtaking as ever.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips. His fingers continue their slow circles against the fabric and it isn’t long before you feel wetness spreading around, making the fabric heavier and sticky.

It feels good, it really does- so good. He knows what he’s doing, that’s clear, but you try to push that thought from your mind with moderate success; he’s here with you now. That’s what matters. Someone as handsome and charming as Toru couldn’t go without pussy, and what was the harm? You’re enjoying it, reaping the benefits of his experience-

“Getting lost in that pretty little head of yours?” he coos, smiling against your cheek. Before you can answer, he’s speaking again. “I need to up my game, then,” he sucks slightly on your earlobe before pulling away. Long, elegant fingers hook underneath the flimsy fabric of your panties and he pulls down, exposing your glistening, aroused cunt to him.

You whimper, gasping slightly as your panties are slid away and the cooler air of the room hits your flushed skin. Out of instinct, you try to close your thighs, to hide your soft pussy from him, but he’s quick to keep your legs parted with his hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides playfully, smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Keep these pretty legs open, baby. Can you do that? Be a good girl for me, now.”

Slowly, his index finger slides up and around your folds, the sensation eliciting a whine from you immediately. Your nerves alight with pleasure, tingling in a way you’ve never been able to feel from your fingers alone. This was better than anything you’d ever tried, and at this point you’re too far gone, too given in to the pleasure, to care if Toru knows that or not.

“Mmmmf,” you whimper, pressing your lips together tightly, and you hear a kind, amused chuckle from your lover.

“Sounds like you’re purring for me,” he tells you, leaning in to steal another kiss from your sweet lips. “Must mean you like this, huh?”

He tilts his head at you, waiting patiently and adorably for an answer. You’re able to nod, mouth suddenly too dry to let him know by speaking. But that seems to be okay with him, in fact, he seems to really enjoy the fact that you can’t speak at the moment.

“So if this feels good,” he continues, talking out loud to himself like you’re not even there, “then this must feel pretty great, huh?”

As he speaks, his fingers part your folds and he circles the pad of his finger against your clit. A loud cry tumbles from your lips immediately, pleasure surging through you at a dizzying pace as Toru plays with the acing, hard bud.

“Well, lookie here,” he says in that slightly mocking sing-song voice, “I’d say you like that, don’t you, baby?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. It feels so good, too good, and your toes are curling, back is arching, wetness spreads through you like you’ve never felt it before.

And then it’s gone. Toru takes his hands off you completely, causing your cunt to throb almost violently with the loss.

“Toru!” you whine, sounding more pathetic than you meant to, and if you weren’t so desperate, you would be embarrassed by how it sounds.

“I asked you a question, little girl,” he tells you, and though his voice is light and playful, there’s an edge underneath it. His eyes are hard. Looking back on this in hindsight, you realize he’s molding you here, shaping you into exactly what he wants.

The next words out of your mouth show him that you’ll allow this.

“It feels good, I like it,” you whimper, lips quivering, suddenly upset at the thought that you may have upset him or disappointed him in some way. Your hips move downward, sliding down the bed toward Toru, seeking out more of that pleasure.

“That’s what I was looking for,” he approves, sliding his hands back between your folds and returning his fingers to their work of circling your clit.

“I expect you to answer me when I ask you questions, princess,” he says, “otherwise I’ll have to punish my sweet girl… and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

You bristle. No. You don’t want that.

“Right,” you whimper, voice shaky and unsturdy with the pleasure he’s giving you, “don’t want that.”

And then he’s his normal self once more, sweet and teasing and mocking you in a sweet voice; completely being the Toru you know and love. This had been an experiment, you’ll realize later, to see what he could make you do, and to see what all he could get from you. You played right into his hand. Like taking candy from a baby...only easier.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on it, ‘kay?”

His next words pull you from your blissed pleasure quickly, like yanking you out of a warm, wet dream.

“Gonna do what?”

He laughs at your slurred words, settling himself on the floor between where your legs have draped over the side of the bed.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on this pretty little pussy,” he repeats, letting his lewd intentions drip off each letter as a triumphant grin spreads over his lips as you become visibly more flushed and shy and turned on than you were before.

“Why would you do that?” you want to know. Your question is met with another chuckle.

“Why don’t you be quiet and let me do it,” he replies, “and then you’ll know the answer to that question.”

You nod, face burning, and he winks at you, long lashes framing beautifully dark eyes, and then he bows his head and all you can see are the chocolate waves of his hair, where your fingers quickly find purchase once he slides his tongue over your folds, licking in one long, sloppy swipe.

It sends shivers up your spine, your mouth falls open, a whimper falling from it before you can register what’s happened. He repeats the action, using his strong hands to pull your thighs up to hook over his shoulders. All you can focus on is his tongue, is the way it feels like magic. It makes you cry out with each stroke over your folds.

His right hand is spread out at the bottom of your belly, beautiful fingers over soft skin, and his thumb starts swiping at your clit intermittently, in time with when he’s sliding his tongue over you. The added stimulation makes you groan and whine, catching your teeth harshly between your lips as you have to close your eyes from pleasured tears welling behind them.

Your back nearly snaps in half when he swirls his tongue around your clit. It sends every nerve alight with pleasure, his soft, wet, delicious tongue working against the sensitive nub is a dream, and the feeling of it makes you damn near lose all your senses.

At that moment, you don’t know your name. You don’t know how old you are or where you’re from, and you don’t even remember what you had for dinner that night. All you know is Toru and his tongue and his long, beautifully expert fingers and how they can make you feel like a goddess and bring you into a world of pure pleasure. Your brain is mushy, unable to string together a thought, let along a sentence, so the only thing falling from your lips as you rake your hands through beautifully styled trusses of Toru’s hair is broken syllables of his name.

It’s not long before you feel a different kind of euphoria creeping around the edges of your pleasure, blurring it, bringing it to zenith, the likes of which you’ve never known before. Your fingers haven’t brought you pleasure like this before, nor did your vibrator; no, this was unparalleled and uncharted territory.

“To-ru!” you cry out, voice hoarse and strained as you tug on his hair. “I’m go-nna,” you try to tell him, words failing you completely. He pays you no mind, continuing to slurp and suck and lick at your cunt and your clit, humming against your skin as though he’s completely unbothered.

One final sob leaves your lips before you cum harder than you ever have before. It washes over you like a wave so powerful that it nearly drowns you. Your vision spots white as tears fall from the corners of your eyes, and somewhere deep inside, you know that you’re addicted now, addicted to Toru and his tongue and what he can do with it. There’s no hope for you to ever escape, but it’s a good thing you don’t want to.

Your entire body, each nerve, sings with pleasure so bright and golden that you feel like you’re glowing, and from Toru’s perspective, you are. You look gorgeous in your bliss, and he’s so lucky, he thinks, to have such a wonderful seat from which to see it.

“Think you’re ready for me to put it in, babe?” Toru asks you, his voice now deeper than it had been. You blink at him, not comprehending, and he grins. The now familiar heat on your cheeks continues to burn as you see his slicked chin, clit throbbing as you know what he did to you to make such a mess of himself.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks , tilting his head with a slight blush on his cheeks, which only makes you heat up more.

“Yeah,” you whine out, causing his lips to pull into a grin. He kisses you again, and you taste your cunt on his mouth, much to your embarrassment and arousal. The slick of his chin slides over yours, but you’re unbothered by it. If anything, it excites you more because it’s messy and it’s sexy and it’s naughty.

“My good girl,” he coos affectionately, smirking at you. His fingers slide down your thighs before he speaks again, “I’m gonna finger you open now, okay?” He asks, concern evident in his tone.

“Yes,” you murmur, feeling the heat of arousal begin to pool again in your stomach as he begins touching your folds with his fingers. Then, he slides his index finger into the warm cavern of your cunt.

It feels weird. Good, but weird. Your body tenses a little bit, and you mewl, but he’s quick to soothe you with soft words.

“It’s okay, babe,” he murmurs, curling his finger gently as he fucks you with it. So slow. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you groan, feeling wetness spread through you once more as his finger continues its slow, thorough path into and out of you. It’s another moment before you relax.

“That’s a good girl,” Toru says proudly, grin pulling at his lips as he slides another finger into you. Quickly, his hand is slick with your arousal, it’s dripping down his fingers and to the back of his hand, staining the sheets below you.

The second finger is easier to take now; it slides in easier and the pressure against your walls is delightful. As he hooks his fingers, you arch your back, feeling the soft pads of his fingers press against soft, spongy spots inside you that you never could have dreamed to reach with your own hand.

Toru’s third finger has your eyes prickling with tears of pleasure. It’s good, so good, to feel so full. Spit is dribbling from the side of your lip, but you’re unable to feel it, unable to realize you’re drooling for this man and his fingers. Arousal rushes from your cunt like a waterfall, the sheets underneath you will have to be changed because you’ve made them so wet. Never in your wildest dreams did you believe there were so many glorious spots within your walls, but now that Toru’s found them, all of them, you can’t imagine not having this again. You’re addicted to this feeling, too, to his fingers just as much as his mouth, and--

His fingers are gone.

It takes you a moment to register the loss, but when you do, you whimper, and it is so amusing that Toru huffs out a laugh through his nose. He’s standing now, pushing your body further up the bed and crawling over you. His cock, which is as pretty as his fingers, is red and throbbing from his own arousal. You’ve done that to him. You’ve made him that hard.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet thing,” he rumbles in a deep voice. His hand fists around his cock and he tugs at it, grunting at the semblance of relief he finds in the action. “‘S it okay if I do that?”

“I think if you don’t fuck me, I’ll lose my mind,” you tell him in a slurred voice that feels disconnected from your body.

And he does. You’re wet enough that his cock splits you open with ease, although the size of it isn’t something you expect. As he hovers over you, his hand slides over your hair, petting it in a soothing gesture. He’s speaking to you softly, but you can’t hear the words because your heart is beating too loudly.

“Sweetheart,” he says, firmly now as his hand slides around your jaw. This brings you out of whatever reverie you’re in, and you’re able to look at him, albeit with a bleary gaze.

“Hm?” you mumble.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you, brow furrowed. You consider for a moment. No, it doesn’t hurt… you don’t want it to stop. It’s just...weird.

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “feels weird.”

His face relaxes and the line between his brows disappears as he smiles at you.

“Can you let me keep going?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Soon, his pelvis is flush against you as his cock is fully inside your cunt. The heat, the stretching, the intimacy of it makes your body and your insides feel hotter than the surface of the sun.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, rubbing his hands over your belly. “Taking my cock so well baby. Fits so nice in that little pussy, doesn’t it?”

“Yuh-yeah,” you whimper, holding onto his arms so tightly that your nails are cutting crescents into his skin, but neither of you can be brought from the moment to care.

“Still feel weird?” he wants to know.

“Al-m-ost good,” you pant out with great effort, cheeks burning with heat.

“You feel so good…” he starts kissing your jawline toward your ear, nibbling along the lobe and the cartilage, tugging gently with his teeth, just enough to make you whimper out, “...gonna start fucking you know, ‘kay pretty girl?”

“‘Kay, Toru.”

His hips move slowly, and it only takes two or three thrusts before almost good starts feeling a little good; and in mere moments, a little good morphs into really good. There’s a slight wet noise coming from where you’re coupled, and if you weren’t so high on your lover you’d be embarrassed by it, but you don’t care and neither does he.

His cock fills you even more perfectly than his fingers. It drags along every inch of you, rubbing, stimulating, enchanting your cunt and entire body with pleasure you’ve never known before.

“Toru,” you groan, hands finally releasing his arms to slide up and brush through his hair.

His face is flushed, a pretty pink color, and his eyes are so dark you don’t see any difference between pupil and iris. Sweat gleams on his forehead, and he’s staring into your eyes with the most intense, loving, needy gaze you’ve ever seen directed at you. His gaze makes you feel known. It makes you feel seen. It scares you and delights you, all at the same time.

“Taking my cock so well, baby,” he praises. “Like a little pro, you were made for this,” his words are cut off by a groan and he presses his face into your shoulder, hips moving slightly faster now as his own orgasm comes closer to his grasp. His balls slap your ass more frequently, the bed frame starts creaking and smacking against the wall, and your wails of pleasure are louder. Toru’s fingers are no longer calm and practiced as they swipe over your clit; now they’re frenzied and shaking.

“Gonna cum,” is the only warning you can say before you cry out, back arching as his cock presses against that particularly wonderful place inside you, as his fingers swipe just right.

You’re cumming, tugging his hair and whimpering out pathetically. Your walls clamp around his cock, milking it, and soon, his hips pause. They press in once more, and he moans, cock spurting ropes of hot cum along your walls.

Both of your breathing is ragged. Your heart is pounding so hard you can almost see it through your chest, and as Toru slumps against your body, you can feel heart battering his ribcage, too.

It’s quiet for a long time, but you don’t know how long it really is. Time moves slower now, it doesn’t make as much sense. All you know is that Toru’s hair smells wonderful. His weight on you is out of this world. His softened cock, his cum, his fingers, all are things you’re addicted to now.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.