#Also..... you 'could stare at my art for hours and be content'? THAT? KILLED ME I will be rereading your message a couple of

[fisheito]

THE YAKUEI FANGAME

for those who don't know: there is a yakuei fangame!! for free!!! IN ENGLISH?!?!? that i am about to ramble about!! It's got great art, ForReal writing, and as much humour/😨 as NuCa itself 😊😊 also, (almost) everyone has animal traits. YE,A BOYE!!!!

The estimated playtime is 1.5hrs, but I spent 4 hrs trying to complete everything without a guide;;;;;;

Expectation: i bet it's a short visual novel! a oneshot but in game form? if the creator REALLY went hard with the gameplay, maybe they'd throw in a few choices? to unlock diff dialogue branches? an hour of content at most, probably. maybe fluff about yakuei living their everyday lives and being cute/silly together 😊

Reality: everyone in the clan is here. they are in character. their lives are all intertwined and there IS a plot. there are puzzles. multiple endings. multiple CGs. you will need to think. OOPS! EMOTIONS!! GET WRECKED!!! eiden is, as usual, in a neverending Situation and you WILL feel the effects. this is a full-ass game with mistakes lurking around every corner HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE TO MAKE??!?!?! i.e.,

Keep Reading only if you are ok with SPOILERS.

Before we even reach the title screen, content warnings pop up for: sexual implications, cannibalism, drug abuse and my immediate response is HAHAHAHA! Of course!! can't have a yakumo game without cannibalism or vore in it, amirite??? aaaaaaahhhh cLASSIC yakumo 😙😆 <- i'm having a giggle but not really thinking about it. oh, but i'll be thinking about it in approximately 3 hours. fool.

Come to think of it, I don't think this game has a Log function. If someone finds it, please share the magic keys 😥 i wish i could have read past text... i've accidentally skipped a lot of stuff... oh well. let this be a warning to my future self: USE ALL YOUR SAVE SLOTS! FREQUENTLY! EVERYWHERE!

HALF SNAKE YAKUMO! HALF SNAKE YAKUMO!! HALF SNAKE YAKUMO!!!!!!!!!! *slams my fists on the table*

having yakumo worming/trailing behind eiden is so cute i'm just gonna walk around in circles on the screen while his tail wiggles

this demon king shows up and i immediately wonder if it's the other Eiden. he has the same goofy dramatic energy. please don't kill Other You, eiden... make love, not war.......

edmond as a horse yokai is PERFECT 😭

the way i YELLED when i saw edmond appear!!!!!!!!! i thought this game was just gonna be yakuei. to have MORE characters included?!?!? AMAZING! MORE THAN I COULD ASK FOR!

i really truly wish to disturb the worker in the fields, . please. please let me disturb them

the FEAR i felt when the bartender said his cookie had alcohol in it=--!! I WAS RIGHT THERE WITH EIDEN, SLAPPING THE COOKIE OUT OF YAKUMO'S HAND. NONE FOR YOU. FORBIDDEN

eiden being respectful and constantly saying "I'm not that nosy" in other peoples' houses?? WELL I *AM*!! LET ME INNNNNNNNNNNNN

"It's empty, like my soul." 🤝 we too

looks like i managed to screenshot morb and aster ? i was probably so enamoured with morvay's roundness that i simply had to take a picture. HURRAY FOR FAMILIARS!!!! THEY'RE HERE!!!!!!! and they're bickering, like usual. these sprites are adorable. i stare at morb a while longer.

aster is EVERYONE's landlord. so powerful and cute at the same time. terrifying. i legit laughed tho because really, the writer has SYNCED UP with the nuca wavelength. plot holes? no such thing. everything is explained, but with reasons across the entire spectrum from Logical to Ridiculous 😆

BLADE AS A FLUFFY SOFT PUFFBALL 😭 AND HOW HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND DANTE'S TSUN-NESS . THEYRE SILLY TOGETHTTEHR!!!! blade dressing up as fluffy sphere is so precious… like how he would wear pajamas even though he doesn't need to sleep!!! he wants to look cute and dress up like his friends!! and have fun sleepovers together!!!!!!!!!

In retrospect, this was where i went wrong. At this point, i had ALREADY COMMITTED A GRIEVOUS ERROR. This early in the game, and i'm locked out of the true(?) ending!! WOOPS;;; I thought the game would be straightforward? HAH! Not to a tomfool such as myself!! This was the beginning of Me Making Every Possible Wrong Decision , thus extending my playtime to a time faaar longer than expected 😅. I am not a Gamer. Nor am i genre-savvy. my poor decisions have doomed me to wander through the assets for eternity, trying convoluted tactics that have no effect on the story, while not noticing the IMPORTANT stuff.

What did I do? I chose to accompany morv through the forest. "i don't want morv to be in danger! At least if eiden and yakumo are with him, there'll be less chance of him getting morvnapped!" WRONG! Morvay is perfectly capable of scouting by himself. i should have believed in him more. i shouldn't have tried to smother him with my love. this incubus is older than me, and i should have respected my elder's independence 😣😩

I do not wander deeper into the forest as a result. Straight to rei's we go. Mr. Science Bird sends me out on plant-picking duty, and I think I'm soooOOoo clever by gathering more plants+flowers than I need.

Rei says he only needs 3 of each, BUT THERE ARE MORE THAN 3 HERBS/FLOWERS IN EACH FIELD. Thus, I shall pick MORE than the minimum amount! Maybe it'll be like the Rainy Day event, where the virtualias will be the key to escaping the yokai realm...?? where every person who needs to escape , needs to have their own flower?? so if i gather up enough to save at LEAST yakumo and eiden, and maybe some others who might be trapped.......

WHY IS THERE ONE VIRTUALIA THAT I CAN'T REACH? ?!!?💢💢 (inhales deeply) it's fine. i'm sure the creators wouldn't have designed that so it would be a game breaker. besides, it's not ethical harvesting to take EVERY flower at once. i need to leave some behind so they can regenerate at a healthy rate. don't be greedy!! don't clear-cut the forests for their strange herbs/virtualia resources!!!!! (i later went back to both fields and clear-cut the forest floor of all their strange herbs/virtualia, since i was paranoid and thought i would need a pair of plants for every clan member in the game. i don't know why i thought that. i didn't even know what the plan was afterward. the numbers don't even work out!!!! i just collected EEVERYTHING I COULD REACH . IN CASE OF EMERGENCY. UNPREDICTABLE PLANT EMERGENCY)

got to pet the dog . Top tier game A+++++

I hand over the plants. Rei shoos me out. I panicked when we first finished chatting with rei because SUDDENLY, THERE WAS NO WIGGLY SERPENT BEHIND ME AND I WAS LIKE YAKUMO? YAKUMO WHERE DID YOU GO? YOU DIDN'T WANDER TOO FAR OFF, DID YOU? IF I GO INTO THE FOREST ON MY OWN, WILL EIDEN DIE? IS THIS WHERE IT ALL ENDS? YAKUMOOOOOOOOO WHERE ARE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU oh./ oh, there you are. HI!!!!!!! phew [yakumo and eiden have a cute lil moment by the campfire and i am relaxed, content, just chillin.]

(once again, in retrospect, i should not have been so attached to yakumo. it's good to spend time apart....)

I can't access the forest paths that I missed earlier, so I go ahead with the plot and tell Rei that the food is ready.

At the demon king's castle, i have a grand time investigating all the assets: - Discount statues - that suspicious bookcase (EVERY bookcase in this game became suspicious after I read that restaurant menu. I kept thinking kuya was going to pop out of one. That, or I had to collect 9 bookmarks from 9 separate bookshelves in order to gain the 9 Leaves of Respect kuya holds for eiden, which would somehow ensure a successful escape). - stained glass windows just like in the Nu World event - ominous clock ticking at me - that massive door that WON'T BUDGE? err.... well maybe it'll unlock after I explore the rest of the castle!

I find it a bit strange that the game would include so many clan members, but not quincy or kuya. maybe... they were too powerful to be dragged into a world like this? or they're super elusive and aren't meant to "show up" as obviously as the others??? <- delusional thinking. quincy and kuya ARE supposed to show up. skill issue.😑

So I explore the RIGHT side of the castle. um. and finally the doubts about yakumo are starting to solidify.

Audience: You're kind of slow, aren't you, Fish?

WELL!! i know that the disclaimer at the beginning said that "following yakumo's advice" would not necessarily get you the ending you desire, ., , , , so i knew that yakumo would have his own goals in mind....... but.................idk, i didn't have a reason to go against his decisions so far in the game?? he and eiden haven't been faced with a huge divisive decision so far, right???

Audience: what about "make sure to stay close to me, Mr Eiden"?

yeah.. when he said that, my instinct was to immediately split off from him in the castle but i... never got the option... 😞

anyway. i'm wandering thru the flesh maze in which i check EVERY dead end. i try to INTERACT with every dead end. idk if there are multiple rooms hiding in here. i gotta be thorough (.there were not multiple rooms in there. flesh-scouring chump.)

Only when I'm standing in the yaku-room replica do i give a SEVERE side-eye to yakumo He won't let me check the thing next to the anemones HOW DARE HE STOP ME FROM LOOKING AT SOMETHING. WHAT AR EYOU HIDING. LET ME BE NOSY. I'LL INVESTIGATE WHATEVER I WANT

what are the red anemones for, yakumo. what are they for? WHAT SECRETS ARE YOU HIDING FROM US?!?!?! HIDING THE TRUTH DOESN'T PROTECT US YOU KNOW, TELL US THE TRUUUUUUUUUUTH

After eiden TRIES😒 to investigate everything and i have a giggle at yakumo weakly yet firmly stopping eiden from talking about their roleplay mirror escapade (yakumo. it's just you and eiden in the room.are you only stopping him from speaking because you'll die of embarrassment? come on 🤣), i leave the room... i investigate the out of place knight statue in the main hall... it tells me about the hidden mirror! and i

ENDING 2/3: WHAT THE FUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ I THOUGHT WE WERE JUST HAVING A FLUFFY GOOD TIME DOING FAVOURS FOR FRIENDS AND ADMIRING EVERYONE'S ANIMAL EARS YAKUMO WHAT DID YOU DO WHERE IS EIDEN ARE WE EIDEN? IS EIDNN REAL??????????? YAKUMO SPEAK TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAA

NOW BEGINS THE TIME OF RELOADING SAVES. REPEATEDLY. AND STARTING ENTIRELY NEW GAMES BECAUSE MY SAVES WERE NOT VERY ORGANISED OR PLACED AT KEY JUNCTURES.

I START COMBING THROUGH *EVERYTHING*. VISITING THE SAME BUILDINGS AFTER EVERY PLOT POINT. TALKING THROUGH THE SAME DIALOGUES AGAIN AND AGAIN. I WILL FIGURE THIS OUT.

Going through the game more carefully makes me realise how many things i missed. This... this is no joke. This game has LAYERS and GrassTheOriginator was noT PLAYING AROUND WHEN IT CAME TO THE DETAILS

FIRST OF ALL!! I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED LUNCH!!!! HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED LUNCH WITH YAKUMO'S BELOVED GRANDPARENTS?!?! i was positively negligent. how could i have not checked in with granma and granpa at every step of the way to make sure that they knew where we were and that they were both healthy and thriving. i cannot believe i only checked the house ONCE in my 1st playthrough. i missed out on eiden bullying yakumo + yakumo getting flustered + grandma's "youth are so lively♥ haha". HOW DARE I!!!!!

When I GET TO EXPLORE the forest paths i missed last time, Discovering the bed in the woods had me go🌲🌲 AHA!!!!!! YES! i knew something was missing from my first playthru!! i did NOT MEET EVERYONE and we all know eiden's not completely happy until we're with EVERYONE IN THE CLAN

mr quinquin hasn't made his appearance. that elusive beast. i must lure him out. for completion's, sake. for EITO'S TRUEST HAPPINESS!!!!!!!!! *RANSACKS GRANDPARENTS' HOUSE FOR SNACKS*

because i saw that ONE little tree glitter with animal essence, i started suspecting EVERY tree that looked like it

I save scummed for a while to see if approaching the ✨tree at different points would bring out kuya or something. or maybe even the tanuki. something that will help me get the good ending?

(it was probably the tapir. i forgot that the game page on itchio mentioned fanciful capriccio until i got to the true end.. so... Past Me thought kuya was jumping from tree to tree to make me chase him around)

i ended up inspecting EVERY LITTLE TREE I COULD TOUCH

yep, definitely a tree.

GET OUT HERE YOU DAMNED FOX YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE I HAVENT MET YET!!! GET YOUR UGLY FACE IN HERE!!! OLD MAN!!! BESTOW UPON ME YOUR REALITY-SHATTERING WISDOM, RIGHT NOW!!!!

Quincy SAID you were lingering around. SHOW YOURSELF!!!!

I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THAT GRAVESTONE IS. IN REI'S YARD…. REI, PLEASE…… THERE ARE TOO MANY SECRETS. IS IT MOM? IS IT THE REAL REI? IS IT SOME RANDOM CORPSE YOU STOLE FOR EXPERIMENTS? PLEASE!! I'M LOST IN THE WEB OF LIES

i love how every time i check rei's shelf, i see a new drug. Bone fixing juice (not a drink)? Pure liquid caffeine (maybe garu got into that…)? fox repellant??? 🤣🤣🤣 only the necessities!!

* crawling out of the dirt, bruised and bleeding, after trying slight differences here and there . to try and figure out the true ending for myself* WAIT… I HAVE ONE LAST THING I MUST TRY… THE HERBS… GIVE REI THE WEIRD LITTLE GIFTS!! THEY'RE LUCKY GIFTS, RIGHT? IT'S NOT BAD TO USE GIFTS LIKE THIS, RIGHT..?!??!?!

YEAAAASSSSSSS!!!!!! YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YTEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NEW PATH! NEW THING! I BROKE THROUGH! THAT'S THE LAST CLAN MEMBER YEAH! YEAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!I MIGHT BE ABLE TO MAKE IT THIS TIME!!!!!!! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU STUPID OLD FOX!! YOU'RE INFURIATING IN EVERY UNIVERSE!!! IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND (or maybe i'm just bad at this game. maybe everyone else playing this diidn't spend hours Doing EVERYTHING wrong, before FINALLY doing the ONE correct thing 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣) the whole "seeing kuya's expression all blurry" is such a cool image tho i'm like, of course yakumo is fighting it but kuya is stubborn and will still knock at the glass between his purple self and dream-eiden heheheehheeh ominous purple peepaw is here to insult everyone in a plot-expository manner. finally.

Just taking a moment to appreciate yokai birdy rei putting yakumo through the lab assistant wringer. :) destroy him, sweetie.

.approaching yakumo at the campfire afterward. WAIT NO I COULDNT RESIST AND I MADE ANOTHER BAD DECISION BECAUSE OF THE COMPLETIONIST'S URGE

"don't tell hiim", i told myself. if you tell him, that alerts him to kuya's presence, and your new knowledge,, and he's going to DOUBLE DOWN on keeping you captive and i've only gotten 1 ending despite all my random tinkering so I BET YOU THAT THIS IS WHERE THE LAST TWO ENDINGS SPLIT

Brain: DUDE DO NOT TELL HIM Me: But yakumo keeps saying "Please feel free to tell me if anything is bothering you, Mr Eiden." So why wouldn't Mr Eiden tell him about what is bothering him? :< Brain: YOU'RE GONNA BE SO PISSED OFF Me: [tells yakumo anyway] …….timeskip…………. -> yakumo going "i didn't want to do this to you" Me: SAVE FILE????NOW???????!😨 -> ENDING!!! GET EATEN, IDIOT

Me: 😶 Brain: what did i tell you. i told you not to tell him. AND LOOK WHERE THAT GOT YOU. YOU FOUND OUT WHWERE THE CANNIBALISM CONTENT WARNING CAME FROM, BECAUSE YOU CANNOT RESIST MAKING STUPID DECISIONS Me: but but but isn't it good to keep the line of communication open? how is it a healthy relationship if eiden keeps secrets from yakumo? wouldn't it be more progressive to tell him the truth of seeing kuya, so he can have time to contemplate his actions-- Brain: YOU IDIOT!! YAKUMO IS NOT IN HIS SANE MIND NOW. OPEN COMMUNICATION IS NOT THE SITUATIONALLY APPROPRIATE MOVE. HE'S BEEN KEEPING THIS WHOLE WORLD'S TRUTH A SECRET FROM YOU,, RIGHT??? SO YOU CAN KEEP A SECRET. SHUT UR M OUTH. Reload your save and pick the right answer for once in your life, PLEASE Me: 😔 ….. ………… ok but what if i DON'T reload from the decision of whether or not to share kuya's presence with yakumo……. AND I JUST RUN FROM HIM *NOW*? THERE HAS TO BE A REASON THERE'S A SAVE POINT THERE, RIGHT? if escape was impossible, they wouldn't give you a checkpoint like that, RIGHT??

Audience: you.. you didn't think about running at ALL? Me: Nope Audience: what, so you just let him get you? Me: Yep. Just stood there. I figured my decisions already sealed my fate. The cutscene was just playing out. Audience: After a save point. Me: Yes, after a save point. Audience: Have you... ever played games like this before? the little adventure rpgs with pixel art? Me: No, but i've seen people play things like Ib and Ao Oni Audience: you need to run- Me: right... you DID need to run in those games Audience: after strategic save points. because there's a chance you might want to RETRY that sequence Me: OH..... Audience: ,if you didn't just. stand perfectly still Me: ... i may have zero survival instincts. please be patient. 😂

Brain: OMFG WHY MUST YOU INSIST ON-- Me: I SWEAR I SWEAR!!!!! I JUST WANNA SEE WHAT HAPPENS. IT PROBABLY WONT CHANGE ANYTHING MAYBE. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RUN TO THE YAKUROOM WE HAVE THE PATH MEMORISED SINCE WE'VE GONE THROUGH IT SO MANY TIMESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

actually. this chase reminds me of something. you remember back on DIK Island and eiden is chasing dante on the beach and if you're foolishly optimistic enough, you can pretend they're surrounded by shoujo bubbles and flowers while they giggle and prance along the shore but reality hits and it's full of claws yeah. Eiden dreaming of a flowery situation while ACTUALLY dealing with something ... a little less peaceful. there's no end to eiden's troubles, huh.

ok. back to it. let's see what's in the yakuroom... ]reads the new description for the anemones[

[hisses in a breath] yikes….///////////.😬 not the "anticipation" yakumo lied about…. uhm, uh,..... maybe i accidentally made it onto the true ending path. maybe it WASn"T about lying to yakumo at the campfire Brain: I am so fed up with you Me: 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔 WAIT!!! NOW I'M IN THE ROOM ALONE!! TIME TO READ HIS DIARY AND GO THROUGH ALL THE STUFF HE DIDN'T WANT ME TO CHECK YEAAAAAAAAAAA Brain: all this hiding stuff ,,, feels like... being held captive in an unhealthy relationship, bro Me: you're a bit behind the plotline dude we just narrowly avoided getting devoured like pull-apart bread Brain: fair enough. carry on.

oh…. yakumo…………. baby………………………..😫😢😭😭😭…………………… eiden was so right… indulgence is NOT necessarily the best step… urrgh,, eiden you are so cool and emotionally smart and skilled and i'm so glad you can navigate these messy social waters better than i ever could..!! especially when so much is at stake 😨

wait. why is there a flesh maze in the first place? Audience: it's yakumo's braaaaaaaaain and what are the weird holes?? Audience: yakumo's brain on DRUGS!!!!! we're running around in yakumo's brain on drugs, full of dead ends. Got it!

then we're talking to yakumo in the shifting void: my expression the entire time is EYES BulGING. FACE FROZEN. MOUTH IS :| I AM SO STRESSED

gets reset

SUNUVA ABITCHUOIGFHFHFHFFIEOFDSRDFKOWAPESOI I ANSWERED WRONG, DIDN'T I I DIDN'T MATCH THE RIGHT NAME TO THE RIGHT ACTIVITY i"M GONA FEAUISRHGOIEFRIEOSGPAWEFISPIPDKAESEPFESFAFPGO 8CRAKCS OPEN YAKUMO'S DIARY we're MEMORISING THIS WE ARE EMBEDDING IT INTO OUR LONG TERM MEMORY. LET'S GO COME ON! WE WILL DO THSI!!!!!!!!!!!

Brain: Wait. How did you answer the clan member section wrong Me: um. i. well, i just based it off memory. i didn't think the number of blank spaces meant anything….. Brain: dude. the number of blank spaces SPELL OUT THE NAME OF THE CORRECT PERSON, SO MAYBE THEY MATTER. Me: oh. uhhhh. ahahahaha. well. it's 2AM. we've been at this for a while. i don't think i'm picking up on obvious clues anymore. um...not that i was picking up on them earlier either….. Brain: facepalm faceslap deskpalmdeskface sigH

oh. OH!! ok, so!! trying it again!! eiden moves closer with every right answer, right?! yeah! so! we might be able to reach yakumo if we-- AH SHITE HE DIDN'T MOVE FORWARD FOR THAT ONE

gets reset

OH COME ON!!!!!! YAKUMO!!!!!!! YOUR LOVE IS WAY TOO INTENSE YOU'RE KILLING ME HERE I'M GETTING DELIRIOUS FROM EXHAUSTION I CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS <- will continue doing this until I GET THE ULTIMATE HAPPY ENDING FOR THESE TWO. DON'T CARE IF MY EYES DRY OUT. WE HAVE TO DO THIS TONIGHT

reloads last save YAKUMOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [YELLING INTO THE VOID]]] YAKUMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PSPSPSPSPSPSSPSPSPSPSSS COME HERE SAD SNAKEY THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM! I"LL GET YOU THIS TIME, YOU ACCURSED OVERBEARING SNAKE

i wonder what happened when eiden locked himself in yakumo's room. did that door slamming in yakumo's face wake him up a little? did yakumo regain a bit of sense, like, "OH NO MR EIDEN DOESN'T WANT TO SEE ME... I'VE SCREWED UP..." because i feel like if he really wanted to, he could... idk, phase thru the door or just break it down or something but he didnt

so, does that mean he still respects eiden's agency in that sense? did he immediately deflate when he lost direct sight of eiden? ? ? like one of those predators in a trance where if you remove the target from their sight they just kinda... flop like fhlkjlbbvvvbvrnrmbrbr.

did yakumo immediately start crying and sulking and wallowing like "ohhhhh i'm so horrible how could i have thought of hurting mr eiden i can't believe i was about to vore him i'm so hopeless and terrible and i've screwed it all up and --- etc.etc."

and curled up into a ball and that's where we find him in the void later? he slinks off to some one dead end of the flesh maze and stews in his silent sadness until eiden emerges from the room and finds him...🤔? and tries to talk to him..? oh please oh please let eiden reach yakumo this time ----

Yakumo: Mr. Eiden--

[I IMMEDIATLEY START SCREAMING IN MANIC EXCITEMENT] YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA BEAT THE LOOP, BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HE WOKE UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA bashing my head repeatedly on my desk at6 the pretty picture AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA :'3 and now i'm smiling… oh…. my heart… they're going to be ok…. yakumo is going to heal…. …… WAIT DID I EVER GET AN OFFICIAL ENDING #3? IS THERE STILL ANOTEHR ENDING?! I HAVE TO GO BACK IN

Brain: you NEED TO GO TO SLEEP

Me: I DON'T NEED SLEEP I NEED YAKUEI ANSWERS goes into an old save ok. what if THIS TIME i DON'T tell yakumo about kuya? ….. ………. OH THE HALLWAY WON'T EVEN LET ME IN. OK 😫 ALRIGHT SO THAT'S NOT AN ENDING BRANCH. but. BUT! THAT MEANS I WAS RIGHT ! Mr Eiden SHOULD feel free to tell yakumo what's bothering him! HAHAHAAH!!!! ONE CORRECT DECISION MADE !!! SUCCESS!!!!! Brain: you could have reloaded a save file where you did something ELSE wrong, you know. it's not like you're actually keeping track of which-- Me: YYou know what. i'm satisfied. i got the good ending after evENTUALLY figuring things out! i played the game!! i did it !!! i can finally check the guide and see what i actually missed. aahhh. what a feeling of accomplishment. my eyes are indeed dry and burning. I REGRET NOTHING!!! I have felt many emotions tonight and i will not forget this Experience…

reads the guide omg i gotta go back in the game and find the extra content THIS IS TOO GOOD TO PASS UP

The first time i tried pulling rei out, i felt so bad that i never tried again because why would i want to hurt rei?? the game dialogue actually changed to include his broken bones, so that means i did substantial damage. rei is delicate!! he doesn't like pain! i will treat him gently!!!!!

If you DON'T treat him gently... Does dream rei get so fed up with Eiden's actions that he slams a book on yakumo's head and ends it all? he's like: no more. no more of this stupid dream pain. you have both found the end of my patience. [BOSS BATTLE CHIME, GAME OVER]

But the guide tells me something happens if i try 5 times. so. [does it]

i was laughuing so hard at the "well, now he's got more broken bones" BUT THEN HE ACTUALLY DIED I OH MY GOD REI I AM SO SO RYRRE SORYRR AHHHH NO I MEAN well, i . what did i think trying to . . . how many bones did i break. what a way to go. under a bookcase because a couple idiots were incapable of learning from their actions (me. I'm the couple idiots). oh… REI I'M LAUGHING BUT CRYING HOW DID THEY THINK OF THIS ENDING. WHOHOW>>??? IT'S . SO RANDOM. BUT SO HILARIOUS BUT ALSO I'M SO MAD AT MYSELF I FOOLED MYSELF INTO THINKING THAT REI WOULD BE FINE AFTER ALL THAT PHYSICAL DAMAGE WHY WOULD I EVEN BELIEVE---😂 I'M CRUSHED (not as crushed as rei AHAHAH OHHHHHH oh now i've made myself sad again)

----------------------------------------------------------- ok. time for the last thing i didn't do?

when the game first told us NOT TO WANDER, lest the knights deem us a threat, i was INTENT on wandering "after i meet aster, i'm gonna wander as much as i like!!! they can't stop me!!!! THE LAW CAN'T KEEP ME DOWN! I'm a REBEL"

i was not a rebel. i thought that daring to interact with the knight's tents AT ALL would count as "wandering". so after leaving aster's tent, i investigated all the other tents, expecting to get in trouble for interacting with the king's stuff. But punishment never came? so i thought i was getting away with something >:3 Haha!!! I wandered successfully! No. i just followed instructions without realising. I needed to NOT visit aster first. that's ACTUAL wandering. let's try that. 😑

HOLD ON I THOUGHT the King would ARREST US for trespassing and , maybe we get executed..? BUT I DIDN'T EXPECT DANTE AND BLADE AND FORCE US INTO TRAINING GIVE US A GUN AND SHOVE US INTO THE CASTLE ON A SPEEDRUN 😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣

OMG THE AFTER SCENE DID. DID THEY MAKE ASSETS FOR THE BROKEN STUFF TOO OR--- DID IT ALREADY EXIST---- WELL WHATEVER IT'S STILL FUNNY AS HEUEIFJISJIAOIKPAL oh… OH THIS was tHE LAST ENDING uhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I MEAN I GUESS YAKUEI ARE HAPPY IN THIS ONE, TOO but… wow… gee…….. i'm….. i need to do some thinking about all this… and the ramifications…. and… yeah……….. totters off in a daze

[5aaliyah5]

Prima Donna

Hello again! Thought I would post this here since it’s one of my favorite pieces I’ve written and back when I posted it a few years ago on AO3 I was super proud of it. Instead of posting it in three seperate parts, I’ve decided to just add it all in one post so that you don’t have to search for the other two post/can just scroll and read it in one go.

Pairings: Hange Zoë x Reader/(Y/N)

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Mentions of Miscarriage and graphic detail of blood, Explicit content/consensual Smut, Character death (pls let me know if I’m missing any).

Summary: In the year 852 you are brought to Paradis as a way to introduce a new way of theater to the people on the islands, in the form of music. Yes, you are a famous opera singer back in Marley, and are more than happy to accept the offer made by none other than Zeke Yeager. However, what becomes of your life and the fates of destruction which follows you as you make the journey across seas, and become obsessed with perfecting your art to impress those around you?

Part One:

The sea’s wind whips your hair back and forth as you stare at the island in front of you. Excitement bubbles in your stomach just by staring at it.

Paradis.

How exactly did you get to this moment though? Well it all started with your birth, unsurprisingly.

You had been born into quite a wealthy and powerful family in Marley. Your mother being the daughter of a successful general whose name did not matter. Actually, your whole family's name would soon be wiped away by history and end up not mattering, however that's a story for another time. You father on the other hand had been of Eldian descent, being raised in the internment zone with the rest of people who possessed Elidan blood in their bodies. To be forever abused and ignored by those fortunate enough. It had been one mistake your mother had made, you had been a mistake.

And so imagine your mothers surprise and horror to hear that she was pregnant with you. She did just about everything she could to discard you from drinking a herbal tea which should have killed you, to bumping onto sides of the table in hopes you would pass along, or come out dead already. Nothing proved to be helpful however when you were born, as healthy and strong as a baby could be. In her anger and despair, your mother committed suicide, drinking a poison from off the black market. Your grandparents had been devastated, with the loss of their daughter and the birth of yet another child with Eldian blood. It wasn't until your grandfather had decided that they would raise you as their own in your mothers place, that the real story starts.

You had caught on very quickly that your very existence was nothing more than a replacement for your mother. It didn't help that you looked like her, inheriting her eyes, to the exact same color of her hair. And as your grandparents' minds fell to time, they started calling you by the name of your mother. Not out of malice but out of confusion , as their minds were placed in the past. Your uncles and their children also looked down on you, as they were also in on the ‘big family secret’ as to what exactly you were, and usually kept their distance.

When you were 12, you were enrolled into singing lessons, meeting with a tutor for 3 hours 2 days out of the week. The more years went by, the more those lessons started to take up more of your time, turning to 3 hours a day 6 days out of the week. It was no secret after all and had been discovered from a very early age, you had a beautiful voice. A voice that could be rivaled by no others around you.

And oh how you loved to sing! The way it lit a fire in your voice and gave you a reason to continue the life you were currently living. It's what kept you from running away and making your own destiny. You had started to perform at a local theater, becoming somewhat of an uprising star in Marley, not only for your voice, but for your beauty and wealth. The odds were really stacked in your favor, with generals, elites, celebrities, nobility even from all across the world, coming to see you perform. The elegant outfits you would wear, always paid for by your grandparents whose wealth seemed almost infinite. You truly were a primadonna.

It was soon enough however that an offer had arised from someone nobody would have expected. You did remember this day clearly, replaying in your mind every now and again.

You had just finished your first duet, a collaboration with another famous singer, and had retired to your dressing room that you had found someone already in there. The other person being Zeke Yeager. Though you had never been properly introduced, you had heard talk of him from your grandfather. He was a titan shifter, part of the warrior unit. Someone of great respect as well.

“Ah! You frightened me.” You said, entering the room. He stood there awkwardly, seemingly unsure as to why exactly he was there, though he wouldn't miss this single opportunity to speak with you. “What are you doing in my dressing room?”

“Please forgive me ma’am. I was in the crowd at your performance, and I just wanted to say that you were truly lovely.” He smiled as he spoke his well mannered words, almost seemingly rehearsed. Though you didn't buy them quite easily. There was something off about his attitude- there was much more to him than just some fan who enjoyed her performance.

“Thank you, I appreciate that very much. If that is all though, then I recommend you to be on your way, I will be out shortly to greet fans.” Your voice was even, though you became slightly nervous. After all, this is a titan shifter in front of you, not only that but the lingering fear that he was there to drag you to the internment zone was in the back of your mind.

“Well that is not all… Ive come with a proposal of sorts.” He started and as you stayed quiet waiting for him to continue, he did so “I'm looking for a musician to send to Paradis island, and I think you are the perfect candidate-”

“I- Am shocked to say the least, but i'm uninterested in your offer. Actually, I am truly offended by it! If you leave my dressing room right now, I will not report you to higher ups about your traitorous behavior.” You seethed at him, pointing to your door, urging him to leave immediately . You wanted no part in this conversation anymore, just hearing the words Paradis sent a chill through you-

“But why? Through research of mine it seems you also have Eldian blood… Imagine the scandal that would result from that-'' he started, though you quickly cut him off, knowing all too well where this was going- or so you thought.

“Where did you hear that from?” You quickly frown. You wouldn't let him throw away any chance at a future you had with his words. “Actually, it doesn't matter. Are you trying to threaten me with baseless rumors?” You laughed a little, trying to appear relaxed and sure of yourself, however you couldn't help how your fingers twitched as they were folded in front of you. You felt out in the open with how he so casually spoke of your secrets.

“No. But think of it as a small nudge. Think of all the knowledge you would learn, being connected to your roots. The experience of going across the seas and becoming the first Opera singer from Paradis. You would go down in history.” Now that did sound alluring, you wouldn't lie to yourself. His pretty words sounded too good to be true though, How would you even get to paradis? The island is supposed to be full of titans, which not only kept the citizens in, but kept forces like Marley out.

“It's not my decision. I'm sorry but my grandparents are extremely ill, and I'm their main caretaker, I can't just leave them. Not only that but the island is heard to be surrounded by titans! I can't imagine how you wish to take me there, with those monsters roaming.” you quickly approached your dresser and started stripping yourself of your gloves, as the conversation was becoming quiet irking to you. How dare he come in here, threaten you with a secret and then blackmail you! Not only that but wanting to send you to a dangerous island that your country has been at war with in the past and roaming with enemies? There was no way!

“You don't need to worry about the titans, they are no longer an issue and have all been discarded.The eldians on the island also mean no harm and only wish to learn from us. As for your grandparents, I'm sure you wont need to worry about them, I promise to take care of everything regarding them.” He assured, which only made you more suspicious of him- of why he was so egar to help you and earn your trust.

“And what do you gain from this?” You whipped around, staring him down from across the room. “I know how the world works. What good comes to you from doing this good deed for the people on the island? What do you get from this arrangement?”

“The satisfaction of strengthening a possible alliance to people who share similar blood. Not only with myself, but you as well. Isn't there a part of you that's always wondered what it would have been like to instead grow up on the island instead of here, restricted by a government who would Crucify you if they knew what you were? You wont need to worry about me releasing any information about your past or lineage, but please do genuinely think about it.” And with that, Zeke Yeager exited your room quickly and quietly, slipping out into the hallway, and leaving you to wonder about his words.

Pretty quickly after your first encounter with zeke, your door was being knocked upon by a caretaker who specializes in elderly. When you asked why she was there, she simply informed you that she had been hired to take c are of your grandparents for your “Vacation away”, with their care being paid for in advance. With the sudden solution of your grandparents receiving the proper care they needed, and your schedule opening up, you were left with no other options but to accept Zeke’s offer. However this was far from pitiful, especially for you. In fact, you were beyond yourself. You were so well admired and desired by zeke to bring the beauty of opera to paradis, that it had made you feel as if maybe you were getting somewhere in life. Like you would have the chance to become famous. And no one would miss you or your disappearance. As soon as your grandparents had started forgetting who you were, people had stopped paying attention to you. A part of you did feel slightly bad though, as they had become so adjusted to you, and truly believing you were your mother, they had loved you like a daughter, and all you felt was great relief at no longer having to care for them. Did that make you a terrible granddaughter? It didn't matter in the end, as you left the only home youve ever known, and never turning back. Now all you could do was try your best to become somebody big, not only for yourself or even your grandparents, but to repay the favor zeke had done you.

The rest was a whole blur. The months leading up to this trip, the sweat and pain, and the way your vocal cords softly ached, none of it mattered. You were here now, at the island of Paradis.

You noted that it wouldn't be long before the ship docked, and so you went to gather the luggage you had carried on, not minding the extra cases of outfits you had below deck, knowing that someone would eventually carry them off for you. You also changed your outfit, the former being an old jacket and pants that you had been wearing for most of the ride to the sildand. You changed into a knee length blue skirt adorned with lace at the bottom, and a white button up, finishing off with heeled boots. It wasn't much, but at least made you look more presentable and respectable. The boat was now officially docked, with other passengers, mainly soldiers, exiting off the ship with luggage and cargo. You stood at the exit, as you noticed a rather small crowd had gathered, Ah so they must have been expecting you! You made your way down from the deck to the solid floor to be greeted by a woman with a blonde bowl cut styled haircut. She stood tall, to tilt your head back just to clearly see her face, though it should have been usual for you seeing as you were rather on the short side.

“Welcome Y/N! We’ve been waiting for you ever since Zeke informed us of your arrival date. We are so happy for you to join our efforts to modernize Paradis. My name is Yelena, and this is Onyankopon” She motioned to the man who stood on her right side, showing you a soft smile that made you feel a bit more at ease.

“Thank you, I appreciate you for arranging my journey and welcoming me, I hope I can make you all proud.”

“Oh we should introduce you to Hange Zoë- They are the commander of a scouts, a section of the government which overlooks foreign affairs outside of the walls. Meaning they are also taking care of you and where you will remain for your stay here.” Onyankopon spoke, walking closer to the crowd that marveled at you. It wasn't hard to tell after all, as all eyes fell on you. A person in an olive green outfit, with a white button up underneath and a gem that hung around their neck, approached you.“ Welcome to Paradis! I am commander Hange Zoë, and you must be Y/N!” Their smile seemed genuine as well, making you feel more welcomed already. If you weren't going to lie, they were also rather attractive, as you barely noticed how one of their eyes was covered by a black eyepatch, though that didn't take away from the warm aura they radiated. It was at this moment you were able to tell that they were truly a trusting soul, and would take you very long to become friends with them.

“Yes, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You nodded your head, grateful for their enthusiasm and attitude towards you. It made you wonder why people in Marley made them out to be devils, when your experience here had already been so pleasant.

“No, the pleasure is mine. We are so pleased to have you come to Paradis and share your knowledge in the art of singing. We have theater here as well, however much like everything else, it seems a bit outdated and we would really like to push Paradis and Eldians into the present in every category we can.”

“Of course, and I find that extremely honorable commander. I'm truly thrilled to be meeting all of you!” You introduced yourself to the crowd of soldiers and civilians. It wasn't very hard to win them over, with your Charming looks and polite manners, people always seemed to swoon at your feet. And as you walked towards the train car waiting for you, and as you did so stepping off the doc and almost tripping, hange quickly reached out for you, taking your hand and steadying you before letting go.

“Careful there! Well let's get you settled in then so that you can get acquainted with the area and surroundings as well as the island.” They let out a small laugh with a grin and placing a hand on your back as they helped you board the train.

—

You had settled down into the room provided for you, and it was most definitely a furnished and lavish room, provided by the queen herself. Wow, You had even caught Queen Historias attention, it was amazing what an ego boost that was. After setting down your things, you quickly approached a guard in your area, which happened to be a boy you had saw earlier when you arrived:

“Hello! Armin was it?” You waved, with your other hand behind your back. It was a little awkward given you hadn't been here for long yet, and felt slightly bad for bugging already “Where might I find a place to do my warm ups? I suppose I could do it in my room, but that’ll bother anyone in earshot.Especially since it gets quite noisy at times.”

“Oh- I'm not too sure actually- well there is one place I can think of… Though it's outdoors, is that ok?” He asked. Luckily he seemed rather polite, and you nodded

“More than perfect.” you responded eagerly.

And so you had spent the last few days practicing and warming up your voice to be able to handle the higher and lower notes that didn't come naturally to you. You had nearly perfected the pitch that was part of a certain song you were to perform later on tomorrow evening when you stopped. You hear a rustling in the bushes and are immediately put on guard, slowly approaching it, and pulling back the shrubbery. To your shock you find Armin and a few of the other scouts who were first there to greet you. If you were correct, their names were Sasha, Connie and Jean.

“Um hello- May I help you?” You asked nervously. Why were they hiding in a bush? And more importantly, if these were truly soldiers and used to slay titans, how were they so terrible at keeping quiet in a bush? It almost made you laugh at the sight of Sasha and Jean slapping the back of Connie's head, with Armin shaking his head. Shasha quickly shot up, holding her hands up.

“Please don't mind us! We thought we would get a glimpse of the artist in her natural environment. We’ve been so excited! We had seen your poster when we visited Marley, and it feels so unrealistic that you're standing in front of us now.” Sasha gushed to you, and so you gave a small chuckle at her excitement.

“Wow! I never would have imagined that you had ever taken notice of me at all- i'm also extremely delighted to be here, and to be able to perform for you all. You can sit off to the side if you sincerely wish to watch me practice instead of in a bush, though I can't promise that it will be anything special.” you said. They decided to sit at the base of a nearby tree, sitting on their knees or crossed legged, laughing with one another and then becoming quiet as you started your practices once more. As you began to sing again, something felt off about you- about the way you hit the notes. As they continued to stare at you from such a close distance, you became nervous. By why!? They were kids and you had performed for theaters packed with people before- You shouldn't be feeling like this.

You can do better- be better dammit! Your voice isn't loud enough, Your timing is off, those stares at you are from horror at what you sound like. You aren't good enough-

It's almost as if you could hear him in the back of your mind. His deep voice, replaying those words that seemed as if they were from so long ago, when in reality it has been at most a year since you had seen him. Though you quickly came to a pause of your aria- as you felt something in your throat, though no matter, you continued.

The feeling persisted however, which you had tried to clear and were unsuccessful, as you ran off to the side and crouched down, hands on your knees and started to spit. It's difficult to ignore the crimson red splatter that fell from your mouth and onto the dirt, with you whipping your mouth with your sleeve. You didn't stay for long, as much as you would've liked the rest, standing up and placing that smile back on your face as usual. It was all just a big play anyways- what did it matter if it destroyed you in the end. The curtains would close on you, and you would remain perfect as usual.

“Ah! Please forgive me!” You say, the concerned looks of the scouts apparent on their faces. “I just need a cup of tea. Afterward I will return and continue on practicing.” you didn't break in your act, remaining calm and unaffected, even though your throat burned like absolute hell.

“Please- I'm sure it must hurt. You should rest-” Armin stood up and approached you, the others following and approaching the small clearing which you had been using as a stage.

“No! No, I don't need rest, it's just a small thing- I just need some hot tea and it will be better.” You quickly raised your hands and stepped back. You weren't weak, and wouldn't act as such. You had gone days and days without breaking before while maintaining those higher notes, so why did your throat decide to betray you now? Especially in front of an audience, of all things!

You felt as if they were perhaps pitying you- or seeing you as less than in that exact moment. No, You were chosen to be here, you had to be better!

“Why don't you and I grab some tea then?” A voice came from the entrance of the field, causing everyone to turn their attention from you to said voice. The voice belonged to no one other than the commander themself- Hange Zoe.

Part Two:

Commander Hange had brought you to a small cafe that resided right outside of wall sina in a smaller town. The town didn't have as many people as it had used to ever since Shiganshina and Wall Maria had been reclaimed, and so they liked to spend any breaks of time off there, at least that's what Hange had told you. You must admit, it was a rather pretty place, with it being mid-summer season, besides the fact that there wasn't a lot of sun out at the moment, and allergies seemed to not be as big of an issue on paradis as it was back on the mainland.

“Allergies?” they asked, curious as to the new word when you had mentioned them, as you sipped on some sort of tea you were unfamiliar with. It had a very fruity taste, but it didn't taste familiar at all, and so you had assumed that maybe they had their own type of fruit on the island as well. You looked up at them and nodded.

“Yea? You don't have them here? It's like when you keep sneezing and can't stop sneezing, and your eyes water up and sometimes get red.” You described, using hand motions to motion to your eyes.

“Do you mean… when you get sick?” They asked, looking at you as if you were speaking a foreign language- which you suppose you kinda were?

“Eh, not exactly. It doesn't happen because you're sick, but because of the pollen from things like flowers and trees, because they are blooming.” you say

“Ah- then no, I'm not too sure. We don't really have ‘allergies’ then.” They shrugged and you gaped.

“That is so unfair! Do you know how many of my springs and summers have been ruined due to something as stupid as allergies?”

“Well, hopefully now that you are here, it won't be ruined anymore, at least not this one. Which is great because if you and I are going to be spending more time, we won't have to worry about these allergies” and at their words, a blush crosses your face. Luckily because you were in a more shaded place, you hoped it was less apparent on your face. Their words were not very much, but for some reason they made you happy

“Now, all that leaves me wondering is why are you pushing yourself so hard?” And their sudden question catches you off guard. It was true you had been working way harder than you originally had back in marley, but you had never really thought about it. Was it because your conscience had been a lot clearer ever since you no longer had to worry about your grandparents? Or could it be that… possibly… you wanted to impress the people on the island a lot more than people in Marley?

“I-Because I want to become something.” You state plainly, and don't elaborate too much. However Hange didn't yield, they kept at it, their curiosity becoming apparent.

“But you are still young Y/N, there are so many years ahead of you, you don't need to be perfect-”

“No-I want to be great or nothing- And I won't be some second class singer! I refuse! Even if that means sacrificing a few things, like my throat-” You said, as a matter of fact. They gaped at you, causing you to blush “Im- Im sorry, please forgive my outburst-”

“No- please don't apologize. I know how you feel in a sense…” They then looked down at their empty cup, seeming to have drunk it all already as the both of you talked “It's just that I thought the same way when I became commander… It was after the death of my close friend, who was the commander of the scouts before me. I also thought that I had to be great or I would be considered nothing, and it's hard to follow that kind of logic. What I'm trying to say is you shouldn't be too hard on yourself Y/N.”

“...Thank you Commander.”

“Please- Just call me Hange.” And just at that moment, you felt the sun really shine

—

The tea between the two of you was two weeks ago, and mainly due to both of your busy schedules, you rarely saw each other. You did see each other during dinner, which you would frequently eat together unless you sat with Armin and Mikasa, or passed each other through the hallways. However you just couldn't get your conversation out of your head. You two had actually related- someone knew what it was like to constantly try to be perfect- what more, is that they didn't expect that from you. Ever since you had arrived on this island, you felt that your whole being from your appearance to your personality, was one big lie. A continuous play that you had simply memorized the lines to.

However that one conversation, the day you spent with hange- the tea. It all felt so real and warm. You wanted more of it.

You had only had alcohol once, and when you had taken that one sip of it, you cringed and put the cup down. It was awful- how could people become so addicted, so attached to a substance like it. It was only after talking with Hange that you understood exactly how addicting something could be. How addicting they were. And you had barely had a taste of them.

The only time you were able to dispel Hange out of your head was when you were performing. Your performance always had your full attention, the audience and their fractions, it was all so thrilling that Hange was a distant thought, however they always hovered in the back of your head.

Constantly.

It was actually quite irritating if they were so cute.

They once more were back at the center of your thoughts once you reached backstage. The bustling and business or it didn't help, as you tried to make it back to your dressing room. It was only once you were inside of it, that you slumped your shoulders and relaxed a bit. This being one of the only rooms that you had to yourself and don't have to worry about seeing other people.

You sat at your vanity, and started to take off the layers of makeup on your skin. The heavy makeup was needed, especially for people to be able to see your expressions from afar. The harsh contouring and blush looked rather freaky up close. Once it was all off, you hear a knock on your door, and get up to open it.

And then there they were, standing before you with a bouquet of flowers in hand. What kind were they? You were unsure, since you had never had a knack with plants, and paradis had different types of flowers than Marley was able to grow. But it didn't matter. They looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, which wasn't hard to doubt since you had brought with you some of the most exquisite dresses you've ever performed in, the current one you were adorned in green, the colors of the scouts. At that moment, you were also extremely relieved that you had had the time to take off your makeup.

“Hange.” you spoke softly, standing straight up as you were taught to, and approaching them. They were dressed in a suit, the same color as their regularly uniform outfit, only more in a fashion style that people in Marley wear- more modernized to the outside world.

“I brought you these- I was informed that this is the polite thing to do for a performer, and may I say, you were absolutely fascinating on the stage! I've never heard anything like it. It's something I'm sure not only I, but others will never forget.” Their words sounded genuine, and you couldn't help but the blush that spread to your face. I mean what else were you supposed to do when such an attractive commander praised your art?

“Thank you, they are beautiful, and much appreciated.” You took the flowers that they held out, and took a small sniff of their fragrance. It was a habit you had become used to, even though you particularly didn't care for floral scents, however these smelt absolutely amazing, and so you were extremely delighted. “Please, come in. It's a bit of a mess in here” You held your dressing room door open for them, allowing them to pass you and enter.

As they entered, you mentally shamed yourself for not picking up and folding your outfit from before, however you were in such a rush you figured you would fold it after the performance. It also didn't help that you had shoes and other belongings thrown about- You were never a tidy person, something your grandparents had scolded you for, but soon stopped after they were too old to climb the stairs and as such no longer able to come into your room.

“What brings you here commander?” You asked, with a small smile, and they could see you were just teasing them, so they didn't even bother to correct you.

“I've just come to visit and see how the most Exquisite singer on Paradis is doing?” They said, rather casually despite the small blush on their cheeks that give away their thoughts

“I've been doing fine. How about you? Its been a while since we've spoken like this.”

“Much better, now that I've seen you. It's always relaxing to hear you perform.” They step a bit closer to you, and you take a step back. It's really a game of teasing, and you weren't about to let them win, despite their competitive nature. “ You have such a way with music.”

—

“Well…I am simply doing what I love and value close to me.” You say, and it wasn't one hundred percent a lie necessarily.

“Still it's truly admirable.” They continued on with their compliments towards you.

“Ah please commander- you continue to praise me.” You hid your face behind your hand, glancing away from them. You turned towards your dressing room vanity to double check your face as well as hide it from them, however the footsteps that approached from behind you, and the figure looming over you, so close you could feel them breath down your neck, stopped you.

“Beautiful- your devotion to what you do… it’s stunning.” It’s almost as if you could feel their words enter your mind, your very soul, though that should have been impossible given you had tried very long ago to close it off. “We are nothing but the same, you and I. I know you feel it as well.” Their whispers tickled your ear, igniting something deep inside you. You quickly turn around to face them, their imposing form standing over you, though not at all deterring you away from staring straight into their eyes.

“I do. I do feel it-” And just as quick as those words had exited your mouth, their lips crashed onto yours, hard and warm, soft and light all at the same time. Their lips were also slightly chapped, however you couldn't find yourself really caring, all you could focus on was not falling over as the world had started to become more and more dizzy.

It seemed that you had been the loser in this game.

They broke from your kiss, to pay attention to your neck, going down further and further until they reached the start of your dress.

They tried to remove the backing of your dress, however it was becoming extremely hard with the way you kept pestering them for kisses. Kissing their face, their forehead, their hair, neck and shoulders, anywhere you could reach. Their very smell was intoxicating, the smell of white tea and earthy undertones, drawing you to pull them closer. Eventually they were able to get the buttons on your back undone, pulling off your dress. Before you could even cover your chest, they were on you, absolutely covering your body with theirs, and you found that you didn't mind it at all. They slipped the rest of the dress off and threw it off to the side.

“I'm sorry darling, as much as I adored the way you fit in that dress, I absolutely adore your bare body even more- '' They quickly wrapped their arms underneath your bottom and picked you up, releasing a squeal from you. They then set you on the couch that resided in your dressing room, and climbed on top of you, being that was the only way for you to both fit on the couch.

Your hand quickly shoot up to your mouth to silence your moans- It was bad enough they were able to bring you to an orgasm so quickly, you didn't need their ego to get bigger with the idea that they were just that good, even

“I want to hear that pretty little voice- don't deprive me of it.” they whined and gently removed the hand you had placed over your mouth, holding it with theirs as they kept the other between your legs.

“I-I would hardly…say Im depriving you of it! You come to every performance.” The words tumbled from your mouth, but were getting increasingly harder to say. They didn't respond, instead deciding to elicit another noise from you by moving their fingers a certain way inside you.

“Oh! I liked that one! here lets try it again-” They once again repeated the action, resulting in the same noise coming out of your mouth. Your face was absolutely red, and there was no hiding it with the way hange held down one of your hands and was sitting over you. You were absolutely ashamed with yourself

“You sing so beautifully-” They sighed into your chest, pressing kisses into the skin, and paying special attention to your nipples “Such a pretty little thing” The words they spoke only turned you on more, causing you to squeeze your legs together and keep their hand from exiting you.

“So you respond to praise? Wow- you truly are something else huh? No matter, I'm more than happy to comply with your wishes.” They kissed the top of your forehead, only making you bury your face into the crook of their neck to avoid them seeing the absolute sinful expressions on it. They didn't try to move you however from your possession, which you were thankful for, and more relieved they didnt stop any of their administrations on your lower half. It wasn't long before they were making you scream almost at the top of your lungs for them to bring you to your release, which they did happily.

As you laid on the chair, head tilted back and eyes closed, relaxing in the post haze of orgasmic bliss, did you start to feel them adjust their position and their lips once more back on your collarbones and chest.

“You seem to like a particular spot-” you commented smugly, finally lifting your head to look down on them.

“I could think of some other place I'd like to kiss more- if you catch my drift…” They grinned, a wide grin that made your stomach bubble with excitement and fulfillment.

“You are a dork! The way you can just say that so casually-” you scoffed, clearly amused by their attempts at flirting with you. They chuckled as well, bringing you in for a kiss once more. Your night with them didn't end there, it actually was just the start- however as it went on, it became so consuming and felt so good that it had just become one dizzy blur after the other in your memories.

After that night, You and Hange were practically inseparable from each other. When your time wasn't filled with practice after practice of new musical numbers, Hange occupied it. It just so happened that the both of you contained a fairly busy schedule, and so no hurt feelings came from either of you when the other was unable to be around. But when you were both together, you had the most amazing times in your life. Their voice had become one of the only things you would genuinely listen to besides those of melodies, And your moans had become their favorite type of music.

Which is why you had made the ultimate decision. You truly wanted to be with them- to spend the rest of your life like this. You could see them being an attentive partner, and they brought so much relaxation and calmness to you, all while making it fun and exciting- you'd never felt this way about anyone. This must be what people described as true love in Marley! And that's when it hit you: you would need to inform zeke on the news, the change of plans, and that you probably would bring a stop to your career- at least for now. The letter wasn't easy to write, constantly rewriting it over and over and over until it all blended together and all the letters sounded the exact same to you.

Part Three:

Zeke,

I think you will find fulfillment in what I've done. It's exactly as you have asked, I've bought music, opera to the people of paradis. Along the way I've become a better musician as a result, learning more and more about the art in it, and I'm extremely grateful for it, however I believe that after the upcoming performance, I will take a break from it all. I've worked hard to get to where I am, and am content. Please don't think of me as selfish for deciding this without first confiding in you. I want to let you know by my own writing before you hear any rumors- I am currently romantically involved with someone, the commander of the scouts actually. They've inspired me so much throughout this whole process, and I've found myself wanting to grow closer to them. I think I could have a happier future than my dreadful past, with them in it. I thank you for all that you've done, and hope that you could forgive me one day and stay acquaintances.

Forever your friend,

Y/N L/N

You had finished and sealed the letter, looking it over one last time from the outside. Did you truly want to send this letter? You thought you were doing what you had earned, a peaceful life, however some bittersweet feeling lingered behind it. What if you were making a mistake? You were at the peak of your career and it was no doubt Zeke would not be pleased with your choice either. You didn't even receive a response from Zeke until roughly a month after the initial letter you had sent. This didn't alarm you, as mailing systems to the island were very limited and took roughly a few weeks to even go through and boarded onto a boat that would be heading this way. However, as you opened it, you felt something twist in your stomach as you glossed over the words.

Y/N

You are exactly as I imagined you were. You pushed yourself to become better, however you are still far from it. I warn you, If you are to take this break there is no guarantee you will ever return to the stage. You know as well as I do that if you stop now, you are losing all of the potential, the fame that you had worked so hard for, and letting it all go. Do not make that mistake. Don't be distracted by those around you, especially the commander of all people. You have a duty, doing something you love, and to give it all up now for something as trivial and forever changing as love is foolish. Fame is what will immortalize you in history, to be forever young and beautiful, don't forget that I said that. I hope that you make the right choice Y/N, But for now I will be unable to continue on this journey with you. I wish you the best with whatever you do.

- Zeke Yeager

You read the letter again and again until the words just jumbled inside your head. You decided then that you were correct, you had made the wrong decision. Zeke was correct as usual- why ruin all that you've worked towards in favor of love? It didn't make any sense… had you truly written and sent that letter? You stood from your desk in a hurry, alarmed and frightened. You felt as if maybe you were losing it. Pacing your room was all you could do as you debated on your next move, whether or not you would stop your career for Hange, or continue on. You had already come to the swift conclusion that you could not have both, Hange though lovely, was extremely distracting and too soft on you. But they have also become your main muse of inspiration. What a tricky situation indeed.

As you passed by one of the mirrors in your room, something caught your eye, and you backtracked quickly, horrified at what faced you. In the mirror stood your mother, But why? What was she doing here? As you turned around lifting a hand, she followed the same motions, her eyes blinking as yours did.

“Stop… please.” you whispered under your breath and backed away, with her following your motions “Im sorry ok? I… Why are you here?” she didn't answer though, as she stared back at you with the same angry and scared expression. You wanted it to stop- why couldn't she just leave you alone!? She had always followed you growing up, with you being in her constant shadow, and here she was to cast you in her shadow once more. “Leave me alone!” You screamed and grabbed the vase that held the flowers Hange had first given to you, throwing it at the mirror, and shattering not only the mirror but the vase as well. When her gaze was gone, you returned to reality, and noticed the shards of glass from the mirror and vase around you.

Shit, I have to clean this up before somebody comes in…

As you rush to cover up your accident, you feel a sharp sting in your hand as you pick up one of the glass shards. Only when the warmth trickles down your hand do you realize youve cut yourself. Not deep enough to need a stitch luckily- but just enough to where it hurt like shit. As if luck wasn't on your side, you hear a knock on your door. The famous Hange-like knock that left a little tune. And before you could yell out for them to not enter, they were opening the door.

“Dear- Wha-what happened!?” They ran to your side to inspect you and make sure you weren't seriously injured, and as they looked you over, they caught sight of your hand. “Come on-” they picked you up “We need to get that cleaned and bandaged”

“Hange- the glass-” you looked down at the mess, and truly started to feel awful for the scene and mess you had created. They didn't deserve to be dealing with this.

“Don't worry about that for now- I'll carry you so you don't cut your feet on it.” They replied, and carried you to your bed. “I'll be right back, I need to go get some bandages. Don't move.” And soon they were gone.

You sat there, trying to make sure the blood did not drop onto the floor and instead holding it in your lap, where it sank into the nightgown you were wearing instead. Something like that could be easily replaced. It was only once they came back, you felt tears stream down your face. How could you have such selfish thoughts? Here they were, helping you without any anger on their face, only concern. And you were doing it to them. You were hurting them. They returned promptly as they said they would, bandage and towel in hand.

They took your hand that was cut, applied the damp towel on it and tried to clean most of it as they then applied the bandage. “Tell me if i'm wrapping your hand up too tight-” They said as they continued on, and all you could do was stare at them blankly and respond with a small:

“It's fine. Thank you.”

They looked up to you, nervous about your quietness, and what could have caused the mess in your room. Luckily, they knew better than to just start asking questions, especially if it was something that had affected you to such great lengths and keeping you reserved.

“Come on. You can come stay in my room tonight- This probably won't be able to be cleaned until tomorrow and I don't feel comfortable with you sleeping in your room with broken glass on the floor.” They lifted you to your feet, grabbing one of your robes and draping it over your form, and leading you out into the hallway. You just leaned onto their arm and followed them, soundlessly. It wasn't until you were in their room, and placed into bed with them at your side that you started talking though, placing your head into the place where their neck and shoulders connected and placing some rather suggestive kisses-

“Y/N- I don't…” Hange started but were cut off by your words. You knew what they were going to say- that you should get some sleep, that you weren't in the right state of mind right now, but it didn't matter.

“I'm sorry- please though… I want you.” you whispered to them, and they allowed you to have your way with them that night. After it was done, and both of you were satisfied, you laid in their arms, thinking about how this was the last time you would ever lay there again.

—-

It had been nearly one week since that incident.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror very slowly. Lately all you had been seeing was visions of yourself as your mother, and had blamed the lack of sleep as a result. Nothing a little makeup powder couldn't fix though, as you applied it to your face evenly. This was one of your biggest shows yet- just then you heard that knock on your door- the one that you had once would do anything to hear, only made you dread what was to come now. They were here, and you needed to get things over with…

The door opened and they let themselves in, hearing a gasp as you turned around in your seat to face them. “You look beautiful… like something from a dream-”

“Thank you Commander.” You gave them a small smile, however they could tell that it wasn't genuine as it usually was. You were smiling through the pain, like you usually did with others, and it pained them to see you like this.

“Y/N” They said softly, stroking your face, and you almost wanted to lean into them. Just let them take away the pain. But you couldn't. You had a focus, and that was to apply your makeup so you could go out on stage and sing. Give the damn best performance of your life if you had to- “maybe… you shouldn't go up tonight. You look utterly exhausted.”

“I have to. It doesn't matter what I look like, with enough makeup and the distance of the seats the crowd won't be able to tell. The show must go on regardless of how I feel anyhow-” You state,

“Y/N-” they started, however you were quick to cut them off, tearing their hand away from you and backing up. You weren't strong enough to resist them, unless they were away from you. You backed yourself against your dressing room vanity, your hands on the edge, gripping it hard.

“Don't! Don’t try to convince me of anything else. I've decided that this is what i'm going to continue to do hange- and… and we cant be together anymore if i'm going to fulfill my dreams.” The desperateness could be clearly heard in your voice- that if you didn't say these things to them now you may never be able to. You were too tired to even try to cover it up as well, thinking it didn't even matter given Hange had seen you at your worst before.

“Please… you are destroying yourself, can't you see?” they sounded so broken, so hurt and desperate. You wanted to embrace them, tell them it would be ok, but the truth is you were no longer the person you were when you stepped foot on the island. You had learned the ways of your art, the things you would have never achieved back in Marley, or with Zeke or your grandparents. No-

You were better.

“I would have thought you of all people would have understood Hange…” Your voice is almost unheard. Though you knew they had heard you, and they had to have understood you, Afterall you knew better, you knew they would also sacrifice everything for their cause, for the people of Paradise. And you would sacrifice your very being, just to be heard. To be remembered as the most delicate singer in Paradis history, even if that meant leaving them. Even if that meant their, and your own happiness. For what other contentment could you feel besides the one that stemmed from music?

“I…” they were silent for a moment, recollecting their words and thoughts, unsure of how to approach the situation. You could see the realization of failure, of loss in their face as they give up on their attempts to stop you. “I love you.”

And that's it. Your whole world stopped at that moment. You blame yourself for letting them get this close to you in the first place, because you knew. You knew that you would love and value your art, above anyone. Above them. And it wasn't fair to them.

“I'm sorry…But you can't.” you shake your head and look away from them. You can't bear to see their face in pain anymore, knowing you caused it.

“...I know…” They looked down, and placed the flowers that they had brought off to the side, on an empty desk. “I'm sorry too Y/N.” and with that they were gone.

You felt too numb to cry. Too numb to do anything. You had just let go of the person who had meant more to you than anyone could. And you knew you would never love another like them ever again, but you did what you had to. For their sake and yours.

You could hear a voice down the hallway, screaming 5 more minutes until the start of the show, and so you swiftly gathered yourself together- as much as you could, and exited your room, making your way towards the staircase which would lead you right to the stage. Your dress shimmered in the lowlights behind the curtain.

I'll write to zeke after this is over- he’ll most certainly be pleased to hear of my choice. You think to yourself as the curtains open, and as usual, you are met with a packed theater. People dressed in all sorts of outfits, sitting, and watching your every move.

The notes tumble from your mouth, having a mind of their own as the melody starts. You’ve rehearsed it almost a thousand times, know the song by heart, as it was picked with the idea that you would be able to dedicate it to a certain commander. However this song now represented all that could not be between the two of you…

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥

Who knows when love begins?

Who knows what makes it start?

One day it's simply there

Alive, inside your heart

It slips into your thoughts

It infiltrates your soul

It takes you by surprise

Then seizes full control

Try to deny it and try to protest

But love won't let you go

Once you've been possessed

Love never dies

Love never falters

Once it has spoken

Love is yours

Love never fades

Love never alters

Hearts may get broken

Love endures

Hearts may get broken

Love endures-

◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◢

The song wasn't done though- but you stopped and took sight of the hooded figure that approached the stage, dressed in black, and pulled something out from their cloak. The whole world then seemed to move in slow motion. You felt something hit you like a sack of bricks, and then another, and then you were falling. Why were you on the floor?

You gingerly touched your stomach where you had felt the pain at first, not horrified at the stain of crimson that painted your hand, and was soon soaking your once pristine white dress. You had seen and become quite acquainted with the color, smiling softly as you heard screams from the audience, and the sounds of more gunshots. But you were fulfilled, a feeling you thought you would never achieve, though you had been wrong. All it took was…

That's it. You had been perfect. You had become the perfect singer, something nobody would ever forget. I will die Young and Beautiful- Be remembered as such.

You saw from the corner of your eyes Hange being held back from running to your side, pushing away Armin and Levi, all just to reach you. The warmth of their hand stroking your cold cheek as all the color faded from it and exited where the two holes in your abdomen were.

“H-Hange… Did I do it? Was I good enough?”

“You were stunning darling. Please, just stay with me a little while longer, help is coming-” Their voice faded in and out of your hearing, as the persistent screams in the background made it harder and harder to hear them.

“I-” You felt yourself become extremely tired suddenly ‘I'm really tired Hange. I'm tired.”

“You need to stay with me- You can't sleep yet dear.” They pulled your head onto their lap, stoking the strands that had fallen from your pinned up hair, brushing some of them away from your face. Tears were present in their eyes, and you wished you had the strength to wipe them away.

You moved your focus away from their gaze, as it wandered to the burning lights that continued to focus on your dying body. Nobody remained in the theater any longer, meaning your performance was now brought to a completion, you could now fade away as you had always meant to. And as you stared into the bright stage light, you wondered why it seemed to fog your entire vision.

End.

[siravalondulac]

like a glacier in april, the ice melts off my soul | j. snow x fem!oc

part 3 of the modern!holiday au

summary: jon has fallen in love with the president's daughter and heir to the lannister name. that she seems to like him just as much and invites him on several dates certainly puts a few delusions in his mind. if only their surroundings could be as accommodating...

contents: modern au, lent and easter, relationship progression, anti ygritte, smut (dry humping, p in v, oral)

warnings: sexual assault (written in detail and discussed later on; not between the main pairing)

words: 14.590

author's note: do not. talk to me about the word count

tag list: @sunraysoverthevalley @idohknow

masterlist | additional works masterlist

previous | next

Jon knows something has to be wrong with him. Because there is no way he can be this obsessed with a woman after having only seen her twice.

And yet he is. And he hates himself for it.

The nine days until their first official date - he hopes he is allowed to call it that - pass by at a snail’s pace. He feels every second of every minute of every hour of every day, constantly checking the time, his phone, the bloody clock in the bus.

Coming into work on Monday, he wants to turn around and run away before he even enters. That the colleagues he took with him to the Red Palace have already told the rest of the shop is a given, and something he knew would happen as soon as he first mentioned the Fastnacht party. That doesn't mean he has to like it though.

Luckily, Mormont keeps him busy and away from the rest of the shop for three days, allowing him to evade the stares and questions. Until half an hour before closing on Thursday.

Matthar suddenly stands above him. “I heard what happened at the party.”

“You and everyone else, I assume.”

“Are you really in a relationship with Cerelle Baratheon?”

Jon sighs. “I am not. We are just friends.”

“Just friends don’t disappear into the back rooms at a party!” Pip shouts from the other side of the room.

He is close to screaming. Like, really close.

“I hope you know she is just using you,” Matthar says.

“What?”

“Come on, you can't be that dense. Cerelle Baratheon is whatever the female version of a playboy is. She has a new lover every month, jumps from one party to the next, and simply listing off every scandal she was involved in would take a week.”

“She also killed someone once!” Albett shouts from somewhere.

“You still believe that? She was pronounced innocent,” Pip threw in.

“Yeah, after her grandfather conveniently donated a lot of money to the charity of the judge presiding over the case,” Grenn responds.

“Everyone knows he despises her. Why would he spend a single cent on her?”

“Where do you think she gets all the money she flaunts at every possible moment?”

“Enough!” Jon shouts. “I don't care about that. Cerelle is my friend, and that's all there is to it.”

“Not just poor but also dumb and oblivious,” Albett says with a laugh. “She'll have a field day with you.”

“You're a toy to her. Someone she can play around with until she grows bored and tosses you away again. It's what she always does.” Mat then turns around, and walks away.

They’re wrong.

They have to be. Cerelle would never treat him that way, he knows it. She is good and kind and helpful and cares about him the way no one else ever has. This strange person they are talking about would have never pretended to be his date to save him from embarrassment, would have never invited a poor no-name to a party at the Red Palace.

Whoever this woman is they see, she is not his Cerelle.

She would never do that to him.

As soon as the clock strikes six, he is out of that place. Barely even stopping to say goodbye to Sam or Mormont, everything inside him screams to start running, to bolt down the street, to jump up and down in excitement. But he reminds himself to stay calm. He will make it in time, he has checked the bus times often enough to be sure of it.

The Art History Museum is not really a place he thought he would ever set foot in. The building is beautiful, even he can see that, but to stare at a few centuries old pictures still seems less than enticing. Except that once he spots Cerelle standing in the shadow of a pillar, and a smile bright enough to light the entire world spreads on her face the moment she lays eyes on him, he never wants to be anywhere else.

She takes his hand and quickly draws him towards a well-hidden side entrance. A man greets them, they share a few words, then he leaves with a light threat not to damage anything.

The building is grand, the paintings similar yet beautiful all the same. But no matter how hard he tries to appreciate them, to read the explanations as they pass through the different rooms, to enjoy the empty museum, his attention always shifts back to Cerelle.

She seemingly has something to say about every piece they look at. Her excited voice echoes off the marble walls, the smile on her face addicting and the sparkling in her eyes enchanting. He has no choice but to watch her.

Sometimes, she looks at him, and when she notices his eyes on her she blushes, and he has to try very hard not to giggle.

Cerelle is… Fuck, she is so wonderful. If his colleagues could simply meet her they would see this, too.

The museum visit passes without any incidents. Which, he supposes, he is glad about, but also something he has not expected based on the way they ended up the previous two times they were together. Cerelle merely lays a kiss on the back of his hand, and asks where he wants to go on their next date.

And that she actually uses the word date allows his mind to recover from the short circuiting her kiss sent it into.

“The aquarium.”

They pass through three more museums the following week, meeting every two days right after his shift has finished. She never initiates anything more, seemingly quite content with holding his hand for hours on end.

Besides the aquarium, they also visit the Natural History Museum and the Science and Tech Museum. All after-hours, all by passing through a side entrance, all while being left completely alone in the buildings.

He never asks, but sometimes he does wonder how they actually get into all these places. Maybe Cerelle actually knows this many people, more likely is, however, that she is simply rich and people recognise her last name. Maybe one day, when she trusts him more, he will try to test the limits of this.

For now, he simply enjoys what she gives him. Precious hours walking in comfortable silence, fawning over the animals and paintings and exhibits, and perhaps, if he dares to think that far, even over each other.

“Where do you want to go next?”

They stand in the shadows of the Science Museum's back entrance, the pouring rain only narrowly passing by them. Cerelle had refused to let him step outside until she had thoroughly inspected their surroundings and deemed them safe from any onlookers.

He has only fully started understanding her paranoia earlier in the evening, when a man with a mic jumped into his path and asked if he was headed towards the museum, if he knew Cerelle, if he was her new lover. And nothing Jon did or said managed to deter the man. Only when two more showed up, one with a camera, the other with a smartphone in hand, and all three had started arguing over whose spot this actually was, did he manage to slip away.

To be forced to live one's life always on the lookout, never to be able to simply enjoy a moment…

Cerelle looks at him expectantly, and he cannot help but feel sad for her.

“How about we meet at my place again?” he says. “I could cook something for us, and we'll watch a movie afterwards. If- If that is something you’d like.”

The smile that spreads on her face is addicting. “I think I'd like that very much. There's just…” She hesitates for a moment. “I'm vegan, so-”

“Yeah, I know.” Seeing her confused stare, he quickly adds, “At the restaurant on Valentine’s, you ordered the only vegan things on the menu.”

“Oh.” Her fingers pull at the sleeves of her jacket. “I didn't think you would notice.”

“Of course I would. It's you.”

She hugs him, then, so tightly and with such insistence he realises he might not be the only one with a terrible ex-partner.

Finding a vegan recipe that he, one, can afford, two, can cook, and three, will actually eat himself is no small task, but he refuses to give up. After everything Cerelle has done for him, she deserves something nice as well for once.

On Friday, he manages to get off an hour earlier than usual and therefore has time to spare when he is done preparing everything. Which may be a curse instead of a blessing, he realises, because now he once again has time to get anxious.

Will she actually come, will she find his efforts ridiculous, will she laugh seeing his outfit, will she hate the food, will she leave right after-

The knock on the door is what finally breaks him out of his misery. He hastily goes to open it - and his heart stops.

Cerelle looks devastatingly beautiful. Even more so than on Valentine's and Fastnacht. Her hair looks impossibly soft and golden, the wild curls now falling in gentle cascades over her shoulders and down her back. No butterflies decorate her eyes tonight, instead it’s her cheeks that glitter like the night sky and make her eyes look even more like stars than they already do. Yet the crowning piece of it all is her red dress - off the shoulders, stopping right above her knees, wide sleeves that are fixed with golden ringlets to her wrists. So bright, so intense, a colour he has never seen before.

He stares, and continues to stare even when every voice in his head screams at him to say something.

A small part of him wants to drag her inside, rip the dress off her, and feast upon her beautiful body until dawn. But he knows he could never muster the courage to initiate something like that. Especially with her.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I hope I'm not overdressed.”

Besides him in his crappy black dress shirt and pants she definitely is, but how could he ever tell her that?

“You look wonderful.”

She smiles, and seemingly only narrowly defeats the urge to gnaw on her brightly coloured lip. “Thank you.”

He leads her inside, then, where she takes off her shoes and puts down her small handbag, and lets herself be guided to her seat at the small table. She plays along with everything he does - pulling out her chair for her, thoroughly tasting the cheap wine he fills into her glass - and even subtly encourages him to continue with this charade by spreading the paper napkin on her lap like a proper lady and calling him Sir, accompanied by a slight giggle.

Ygritte would have never participated in something like this. Would have laughed at him for even attempting-

He forces himself to banish his ex from his mind. This evening is about Cerelle.

They eat, they laugh, they talk, and he almost feels like a real human again - one who has a social life and isn't constantly being crushed by the fear of eviction or unemployment.

Afterwards, they huddle up on his bed as Jon opens the only streaming platform Sam has given him the password to. All while desperately trying to ignore Cerelle's soft body pressing against his.

He clears his throat. “So… Uh, what do you want to watch?”

“I am open for everything. You decide.”

Her face is likely being graced by that one specific smile that always makes him blush, so he is quite glad he cannot physically look at her.

He stammers a bit. “We could, uh, watch the new Star Trek movie. Though I don't know if it's any good.”

She is silent for a moment before quietly saying, “I've never seen it.”

“You've never seen Star Trek? Never? Not a single episode?”

“I know, I know.” She groans and hides her face in the crook of his neck. “I'm an embarrassment.”

“No, no, it's ok.” He laughs and gently urges her upward again. “I wanna be able to show you something new as well for a change.”

They only manage one episode before a glance towards the clock tells Jon he should probably stop this before he cannot even make it out of bed tomorrow. Cerelle doesn't seem to mind.

“Thank you for this evening,” she says as he lays his laptop on the floor beside the bed. “No one's ever done something like this for me.”

He turns to her, confused. “But… You're a Lannister, and a Baratheon. Shouldn't people be begging on their knees to worship you?”

She laughs, yet it sounds so terribly sad. “The people I associate with aren't the kind to value small moments like these. It's about spectacle, and showing off. You don't really make others envious with a quiet dinner and a movie.”

“Well…” He tries to find fitting words, anything to make her smile again. “I really enjoyed it as well. It was the best birthday I've had in a long time.”

Cerelle jolts upwards. “What? It's your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything? I should have been the one pampering you today, making you dinner, inviting you to my home. I don't even have a gift for you-”

“Hey, it's alright.” He lays his hands on the sides of her neck. “I wanted to do all that for you. Being able to provide for you for once is everything I could have ever wished for.”

“It doesn't work like that, Jon. You already have such stress during the day, you could have at least let me make dinner.”

“I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities for that in the future.”

It was a gamble, saying that, but based on the smile that spreads on her face she has at least accepted that last part of his argument.

“But I still need a gift for you. Especially after everything you have done for me this past month.”

And whatever strange power takes hold of him in that moment makes him say what he has been wanting to for days. “How about a kiss?”

Her lips crash onto his with such fierceness he almost falls off the bed. She catches him just in time, burying her fingers into the collar of his shirt and pressing him so close he barely has space to breathe.

After a lot of shuffling and pulling and dragging, she sits astride his lap as he leans against the wall. One of her arms snakes around his neck to press her mouth ever closer to his, their lips interlocking, wet and hot and so intense he loses all ability to think.

His hands, luckily, find their way to her hips all by themselves. He traces her sides, glides across her chest, presses against her back, upper and lower, urging her to move against him.

She doesn’t - not truly, at least. Her tongue enters his mouth and her fingers card through his hair, but she stays seated quite firmly directly on his cock.

He tries not to let it bother him, he really does. And if she could only lift herself up on her knees to remove herself from his lap-

Suddenly, she whines when he bites down on her lip, but before he can apologise she moves across the bulge in his pants, and he answers with a moan of his own.

How much time passes he cannot say, only that he is out of breath and sweaty and his cock aches under the constant pressure, confined into the pants that are already a size too small. Their chests press together with every gasp, every shattered breath they desperately try to take in. How Cerelle has not collapsed under the constant, never-ceasing movements is a mystery to him, and he is about to let his lips move away from her mouth to explore her throat when she moves, his zipper rubs along his tip, and he-

The moan that passes his lips is far too loud, far too real, and so, so embarrassing. Cerelle's breath fans across his cheek, her hand still buried in his hair.

He cannot look at her.

Fuck, he just came in his pants like an inexperienced virgin, all because of some grinding and a (far too intense) make-out session.

If the earth could open up and swallow him whole- No, even that wouldn’t get rid of this embarrassment.

He lets his fingers glide down Cerelle's side, desperate to distract her, to at least repay her for this, but her hand stops his before it can reach the hem of her skirt.

“It's alright. It was an accident.”

As she removes herself from his lap and stands up, he remembers they are still in the fasting time before Maiden's Day, and supposes he has learned something new about her again.

He quickly cleans himself up in his bathroom, throwing on a clean pair of sweatpants and splashing his face with ice cold water in an attempt to return his face to a normal colour.

Cerelle stands by the window, her form illuminated by the bright lamppost. She turns to him as he approaches.

“My uncle will be here in a few minutes to pick me up.”

He nods.

“I don't- This doesn't mean you should be embarrassed, or that I think you are pathetic. Trust me, I've done way worse. It's all my fault, anyways, I should have never let it get this far-”

“Hey.” He lays a hand on her cheek, and she almost instinctively leans into his palm. “It's alright. As you said, accidents happen. And maybe we can continue where we left off once you are ready.”

She tries to reciprocate his smile, yet seems far too tired. “Soon. I promise I'll be ready soon, it's just a really difficult time right now.”

“Don't stress yourself, I would understand if you are never ready as well. And even then I would still want to be with you.”

She presses herself against him, arms around his body and hands buried in his shirt, holding on so tightly he thinks she wants to melt into him. And somehow, he is alright with that. Especially when he hugs her back, burying his face in her hair, and he feels a tear escape her eye and roll down his cheek.

They simply stand there for minutes, hours even, until motion in front of his window tears them apart.

“That's my ride.” Cerelle takes a deep breath, only to attempt to suppress a smile. “You have glitter on your face.”

He chuckles. 

Their hands remain interlocked until he opens the door and she steps out into the hallway.

She looks at him one last time and whispers, “Happy Birthday, Jon,” before she disappears into the night.

He expects Cerelle to remain M.I.A. for a few days, yet is quite glad she doesn't.

Two days after his birthday and their dinner date at his apartment, they meet in the supposedly closed for renovations wildlife zoo on the outskirts of the city, where Jon has way too much fun searching for the wolves hiding amongst the trees. Cerelle fawns over the foxes and hawks so much, he fears she will kidnap one to keep as a pet.

Their interactions aren't strange or weird or awkward. Even though they never talk about that night, it also doesn't weigh on them like a well-kept secret. It's just something that happened, just another one of their wonderful dates he keeps tucked away in his heart.

One day after work - a terrible and rainy affair where he had to carry so much stuff in the freezing cold every muscle in his body hurts to even think about - he arrives home to find a small package in front of his door.

Jon does not have the money to order things, so his first thought is that it belongs to a neighbour. But no. That is his name on the address.

Opening it reveals two things: an even smaller carton, and a piece of paper.

Its handwriting isn’t messy, per se, but difficult to read in the way only his grandmother's letters are. After a shamefully long time, he finally decodes what it's supposed to say.

I know you didn't want a gift, so you can see this more as a common good for us both.

Yours, Cerelle

He traces her name on the paper, before he catches himself and quickly lays it to the side.

The smaller carton, the common good as Cerelle has called it, is a small, portable projector, one he could easily plug into his laptop.

Seven hells.

It's not just that she liked the date, it's not just that she isn't embarrassed by how it ended, it's not just that she maybe would want to repeat it. No, she has gone out of her way to gift him something that would actively enhance the experience the next time they watch a movie at his place.

She wants to spend more time with him.

He places the projector on top of his cupboard and tapes Cerelle's note next to the family photos above his desk.

Jon does invite Cerelle to his place again.

It happens during one of their museum visits - this one being dedicated to the composer of Westeros’ national anthem. The entrance is tucked away in a side street and so unrecognisable that they don’t even have to search for a back door, a change he is quite happy with.

The museum itself is not very interesting, but some of the rooms they pass through play music of the composer; quick marches and deep arias and sweeping waltzes. In one of them - a sparsely furnished room that plays a slow piece he swears he has heard before - Cerelle takes his hands, lays one of them around her waist and interlaces the other with her fingers, and starts to dance.

It’s a quiet and idle one, and technically nothing more than simply moving around in each other’s arms, but gods does he like it. She snakes her free hand around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder and then, even if quietly, hums along to the music, and he thinks he will die on the spot.

He stumbles and steps on her shoes, but she just smiles. And when the music stops for a moment and she lifts her head up again, he cannot help but kiss her. It’s so terribly short but sweet and full of longing, and when they part again he asks, “Would you like to come to my place again to try out the projector?”

She smiles brightly and agrees, and that leaves Jon two days to clean up his apartment and figure out a way to prepare an actual proper movie night this time.

He is late coming home from work that evening, so he decides to take a shortcut through a small alley. It’s theoretically the fastest way from the bus stop to his apartment, yet it smells and is dark and has a general off-putting vibe to it, so he tends to avoid it. Not tonight, though. He has to be home in time before Cerelle comes.

Halfway down the alley someone calls out his name, and even hearing the voice sends a shiver down his back.

The past few weeks had been so beautiful, he had been almost able to ignore the cause of them. Who it was that had brought Cerelle and him together.

He should have expected something to happen, yet when the texts had slowly ceased and the calls had stopped coming, he hoped she had finally realised there was no future for them, that he had well and truly broken up with her. Yet as he turns around and sees that mop of red hair running towards him, he feels so terribly stupid.

“Ygritte-”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find you? I had to search almost the entirety of Flea Bottom to even catch a hint as to where you live.”

He takes a step back as she draws ever closer to him. “What are you doing here?”

Ygritte laughs. “To get you back, of course.”

“I don’t want you back.”

She stares at him in disbelief, and he cannot believe he told her that either.

“Don’t be silly,” she says, walking further towards him. “You love me. We belong to each other.”

He stumbles over some scraps lying on the ground in an effort to bring distance between them. “We hadn’t been on a date in months. In six years of dating you never wanted to know where I live. You told me I should move to King’s Landing, but never helped me get settled in.”

“Gods, you sound so whiny. I helped you grow into the man you are today, and you should be thankful for that. Without me, you would probably still be living with your mum in that crappy town up north.”

“Maybe I liked it up there.”

She laughs. “You’re so ridiculous. It’s honestly why I fell for you in the first place.”

“Please, just… Just leave me alone.”

He tries to turn around and walk away, to leave Ygritte and everything connected to her far, far behind him, but before he has even taken three steps, she closes her hand around his arm and throws him against the wall. The back of his head hits something sharp and in the time it takes him to regain his breath, she has pressed her lips to his.

He tries to move back, move away, push her off, but she forces her body tighter against his, crowding him against the bricks behind him as her hands start roaming across his stomach and chest, her fingers playing with the zipper, starting to open his jacket.

“W- Wait-”

“You don’t have to play coy, I know you want this.” She presses her thigh between his legs, grinding it against his dick, which starts to rise against his best efforts. “There, I know you can feel it.” She kisses him again and grabs his collar to keep his face close to hers. “You just wanted a bit of excitement in our relationship. Don’t worry, I can give that to you.”

Cerelle will arrive any moment now. He needs to be up in his apartment, preparing for their date. She cannot see him like this, she will think he’s cheating on her and run away and not give him time to explain and he will lose her forever-

“Please, Ygritte. Let’s talk another time, there is someone waiting-”

Her arm suddenly presses against his throat. “You’re cheating on me, is that what you're saying? Found yourself some pretty little slut that moans really loudly when you fuck her?”

“No, it’s- I broke up with you, it’s not cheating-”

“So there is someone else!”

He tries to respond, yet she quickly swallows any protest he had on his tongue in another burning kiss. She lavishes his mouth, bites and tears at his lips, buries her fingers into his hair and pulls at the strands, grinds her hips against his dick.

“You want me, can’t you feel it? You can try to deny it but your body knows the truth.” Another kiss. “Do you really think you'll ever find someone else? Who would ever want a broke, pathetic dropout like you?” Another kiss. “But I do. I don’t care that you’re damaged goods.” Another kiss. “You belong to me, and we will stay with each other forever.” Another kiss. “You need me, just admit it.”

Perhaps… Perhaps he should just give in. Perhaps what Ygritte says is right. Why would anyone want him, as a friend or a partner, anyways? He has nothing to offer - no money, no house, no safety, no fame, no nothing. Just a shitty job that pays for his shitty place, one he will get evicted from if they raise the rent again.

Staying with Ygritte would not be a very happy life, but has he ever truly done anything that would make him deserve something good? He dropped out of school, ran away from home, hasn’t spoken to a single member of his family in years, and when given the opportunity to study something that would secure his future, he turned it down. Because of Ygritte, yes, but even that he listened to her speaks for itself.

He should simply go with her. Give into her demands, and return to what they had. Fuck her as if he means it, kiss her as if he loves her, and never again make a fuss about being left out.

Ygritte has gone out of her way to find him again after he tried to ghost her. For anyone else, he would always be a second choice. No one else cares about him.

She is lifting up his shirt and he is about to resign himself to his fate when, all of a sudden, she is gone.

The breath he takes bites in his throat and his lung as if the air itself is poison, and the immense amount of oxygen that enters him makes him dizzy. He opens his eyes slowly, expecting Ygritte to have run away, to have decided she does not actually want him back-

Cerelle lays a gentle hand on his cheek, her eyes wide, her lip trembling.

“Jon?”

He almost lets out a sob at seeing her, yet brings no sound across his lips. And no matter how desperately he wants to fall into her arms, he is still frozen to the wall behind him.

Someone beside them screams out every curse word under the sun. Jon, almost mechanically, turns towards Ygritte, who is lying on the dirty ground and desperately trying to get her clothes clean. Then her gaze lands on them.

First her eyes widen in shock, before she lets out a laugh, only to contort her face in anger.

“You’re cheating on me with that fucking whore?”

He wants to defend Cerelle, to tell Ygritte she shouldn't call her that, but his limbs still refuse to obey him.

So instead it is Cerelle that moves herself in front of him, standing there like a protective shield against the vindictive force that used to be his girlfriend but that he doesn't recognise anymore.

“Were those proper, upper-class boys not giving it to you hard enough anymore, or why did you have to scrape around Flea Bottom for your next victim? He is, what, number five or six this year?”

It takes him a few moments to fully grasp what Ygritte is saying. And even though he despises every single one of her words, knows them not to be true, he cannot open his mouth.

Cerelle does not dignify Ygritte with a response, merely saying in a tone so low and threatening a chill runs down Jon's spine, “He told you to leave.”

Ygritte jumps at her, then, but before he can even properly react, Cerelle has already punched his ex across the face with such force it sends her tumbling into some crates.

“Make sure you never tell another soul what happened today, or so the gods help me, I will make what I did to Ramsay Bolton look like child's play in comparison.”

He half expects Ygritte to attack again, even if only verbally. But after staring at them - staring at Cerelle - for a while, she stands up and quickly hurries down the alley.

It is silent around them. No car, no bus, no dog, no pedestrian bothers them. The alley lays alone and forgotten.

Cerelle turns towards him, and he can do little but stay just as he was - pressed against the wall, frozen in place, confused as to what just happened.

“Are you alright?”

Her voice is so, so quiet and careful, as if she fears he will shatter with a single sudden movement. He wants to answer but can't, and so merely reaches out for her and buries his hands into her jacket.

This did not just happen, he did not just stand there frozen in fear, unable to do anything. What would anyone think of him if they found out he was such a weak coward? What will Cerelle think of him now, when he didn't defend her, didn't do everything in his power not to cheat on her?

He only notices he is trembling when Cerelle lays a hand on top of his, and squeezes it comfortingly. With the other, she takes out her phone.

“No police.”

It's the first thing he says to her. His voice is hoarse and shaking, and he immediately wants to crawl into himself.

“It's alright,” she whispers. “I won't call the police, just someone to pick us up.”

His apartment is right around the corner, they could… Then he thinks about it for a moment longer, and realises he cannot return there tonight. Not ever, perhaps. Ygritte knows where he lives now, he will never be safe again.

Cerelle talks to someone on the phone, but the words flow past him without ever registering in his mind.

Then they stand there.

Eventually, she gently lays a hand on his arm and urges him down the street. He follows her, stops when she stops, hurries after her into a black car with tinted windows. Once they have slipped into the backseat and the car has started driving, he curls up in her lap, and cries.

How long he does he cannot say. How long the drive takes he cannot say. Perhaps forever. Perhaps a minute.

He sobs violently, his body shaking with every breath he fails to take. The shirt he cries into is wet from his tears, and if he had been capable of rational thought, he would feel terrible about it.

There are hands combing through his hair, gently playing with the strands, curling them around fingers. They run down his back in soothing strokes, flatten across the wrinkles in his clothing, press him closer against her.

When the car stops, the tears have as well, yet it takes Cerelle a few tries to get him to move and leave the car. She holds his hand as she leads him up an unknown staircase, draws her keys to open a door, urges him to mirror her as they remove their jackets and shoes, and eventually takes him into a corner of the dark room and lays him down on a bed.

It's soft, and he sinks into the mattress as soon as he lies down. Cerelle moves, and he hastily tightens the grip on her hand.

“Please don't leave.”

“I won't. I'll stay right with you.”

He likes to think that she smiles, but through the darkness he barely sees anything, least of all her face, so he has to rely on his other senses to feel her lying down beside him and wrapping an arm around him. He presses his body against hers, buries his face into her chest, and eventually falls asleep.

It takes him a few moments to figure out where he is.

The ceiling rises high above him, the red brick walls carefully painted with animals and flowers and trees, each more detailed than the last, while enormous windows stretch out across an entire side of the room, flooding everything in warm sunlight. A purple curtain is tied to the side, and could, if opened, separate the alcove with the bed he currently lies in from the rest of the space.

Cerelle has brought him here. She considers this place safe, something to escape to when she has nowhere else to go.

This is not the Red Palace. Nor the presidential villa. Meaning it is her own, personal apartment, hidden somewhere deep within the city.

The bed he lies in is even larger than he previously assumed, decorated with pillows and blankets in all shapes and sizes, and so incredibly soft he never wants to leave it. But the space beside him is empty.

Cerelle had held him in her arms last night until he had fallen asleep, but she must have left afterwards. Perhaps to lie on the couch, perhaps in a second bedroom. She likely wanted to give him space after what happened yesterday, and he supposes he is grateful for that, yet a part of him still wishes to wake up beside her again one day.

He slowly sits up.

His clothing has gotten wrinkled during his sleep, and he feels terrible for dirtying the beautiful sheets.

Everything around him is beautiful. He doesn't belong here, he should leave, he should-

Something moves in the corner of his eyes, and when he turns towards it, Cerelle stands there. Dressed in a simple, long-sleeved white shirt and a blue skirt with a wooden tray in her hands, while her hair is kept out of her face with blue clips decorated with butterflies.

(It’s not the first time he wonders why she likes these animals so much.)

“Morning,” she says quietly. Then she lifts up the tray. “I made breakfast.”

Once again, he doesn’t know whether he should be in awe or deeply uncomfortable over how much effort Cerelle puts up for him. When someone says breakfast, he thinks of a cup of coffee and a piece of toast (with a slice of ham if he has the money). She, however, has prepared a whole five course menu - porridge and grilled cheese sandwiches and pita bread with some carrot dip and homemade cookies and glasses with fruits and vegetables. He gets his coffee, she drinks some tea. Never in his wildest dreams could he ever afford something even slightly similar.

“Do you…” she says slowly after a while. “Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

He should, he knows that. Burying the events of the previous night will not turn out well for him, but it is far easier than facing the truth.

“I- I don’t even know where to begin.”

He expects her to ask him to recount everything in order to work through this experience. But she doesn’t.

What she says instead is, “Do you want to press charges?”

Perhaps he should have recounted everything first because-

Oh gods. He could press charges. What happened yesterday- Ygritte tried to rape him. Forcibly take him in some dirty alley like he was in a bad movie. Had Cerelle not appeared-

“I- I don’t know if I could,” he whispers.

“That’s okay. I won’t force you to do anything. I just want you to know you have the option.”

He nods carefully, and takes another bite of the bread.

Then he blinks and properly stares out into the bright sun for the first time.

“Shit, what’s the time? I’ll be late for work-”

Cerelle lays a hand on his, and when he looks at her, she has her eyes averted in what he can only describe as shame.

“I- I already took care of that.”

“What?”

“You told me where you work a few weeks ago, and when you were still sleeping this morning I- I called them and told them you were sick.”

He is lost for words. “And they believed you?”

“I told them I was your cousin.” She cocks her head. “Though the guy on the phone seemed a bit confused. He said that for as long as he has worked there, no one has ever called in sick, and he didn’t even know the correct protocols for that. But he assured me he would take care of everything.”

Sam. As the shop’s secretary, he would have been the one to take her call. Jon himself doesn’t even know if he is allowed to stay away for a day - even with a heart attack or something - but Sam would make sure he’s not punished for it.

He should bring his friend a cake when he comes back.

“For how long did you excuse me?”

“Just the weekend. I said you’d be back by Monday. I thought you might need the time.”

Does this count as an invasion of privacy? He supposes it does, and perhaps had she not previously proven he could trust her he would admonish her now. But she saved him last night, and perhaps he should allow her this once.

A free weekend sounds like a dream.

“I thank you,” he says carefully. “But I would prefer if, going forward, you ask me before making such a decision.”

“Of course,” she answers quickly. “I already feel terrible for doing it now.”

He hopes he never loses her.

They finish breakfast and he helps her clean up and store away the dishes in silence.

Her kitchen is as pretty as the rest of her apartment, the cabinet doors painted with dark blue and green backgrounds while flowers and vines sneak their way up before them. Everything is neatly sorted, everything seems to have its place.

“Do you think Ygritte will tell anyone?”

Cerelle turns towards him. “What do you mean?”

“She recognised you. And the way we parted… She will want to get back at us, at you, what better way than to make our story public?

She taps her fingers against the counter, her well-manicured nails hitting the marble in a gentle clack, clack, clack.

“Ygritte has no proof. Sure, some publication could attempt to snap a picture of us, but that would take time and effort. And her story doesn't fit with what the people know about me.” She bites her lip. “I had lunch with an old flame of mine earlier in the day anyways, any talk of an alleged new lover will get drowned in the pics that were surely taken during that.”

Jon doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to sound desperate or jealous, constantly hears Ygritte's voice in his head, and yet he still says quietly, “An old flame?”

Cerelle's eyes widen. “I'm sorry, I should have asked you for permission beforehand, it's just… She is nothing special to me, I just slept with her a handful of times last year. And I thought that- I haven’t been seen with anyone for weeks, someone would have gotten suspicious, and I didn't want them to find out about us. So I invited her for lunch, and chose as public a spot as possible. Nothing happened and I probably will never see her again, at least not intentionally-”

“It's alright, I understand.”

He shouldn’t get upset about this. They aren't together or exclusive, have never talked about what they want out of a relationship, haven't even had sex in weeks.

(Not that he cares about that, he could survive an entire life in her arms without, it's just… He misses hearing those pretty sounds she makes. The ones he is responsible for.)

“What will you do now?” Cerelle asks.

He takes a breath, opens his mouth, ready to answer, yet stops. A minute passes, then he quietly says, “I don't know.”

She cocks her head, and something strange lies in her gaze, something he can't quite place. “How about a day on the beach? Or- Perhaps the entire weekend? It's a good way to clear your head.”

“With what money?”

He doesn't mean to sound harsh, but cannot help himself the small amount of bitterness swinging in his voice.

She might have cleared him the weekend, but he has not left King's Landing in years. What should change now?

“My family has a small hut by the beach,” she says carefully. “If you want, I could bring you there. And stay with you, if you need it.”

He needs someone close, that is for sure. He cannot be alone now, not after what happened the last time he was alone, not after- Cerelle saved him last night. She could take care of him.

The drive passes in silence. Only the sound of the engine and the quiet, melodic voices of the radio fill the car as his gaze wanders across the scenery outside the window. He clears his mind, takes deep, conscious breaths, and almost falls asleep.

Three hours after their departure, they finally arrive at what Cerelle has called a small hut by the beach and what Jon considers a house for a family of five with a private section of the beach.

Being rich must be nice.

It's already dark by that time, and even though he notices Cerelle preparing to say something, even though he wants nothing more than to spend time with her, she shows him his bedroom and he closes the door after she has left.

His dreams are haunted by Ygritte. She claws at his skin, rips out his flesh, consumes him whole. Every time he wakes in a sweat, he thinks this nightmare cannot possibly continue, yet whenever he falls asleep once more afterwards, it returns more detailed and vicious than before.

A sliver of light passes through the window when he opens his eyes again, and he decides he has had enough. If needed, he will never sleep again.

His legs almost buckle when he stands up, and only quickly grabbing the headboard keeps him from falling to the ground.

Step by step, he makes his way out of his room.

Cerelle sits on the porch, book in hand, as a gentle breeze wafts through her hair and across the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looks up as he sits down, smiles, hands him a blanket. Jon takes a breath, and starts talking.

He talks of Ygritte, and himself. How he met her when he was sixteen and she nineteen, how he instantly fell head over heels for her, how his mother disapproved of the relationship. How he let himself get convinced to drop out of school, leave home without another word, and move to King's Landing with Ygritte, hoping to finally make some friends and live. How he was fired from job after job for reasons that always boiled down to no degree. How Ygritte, always lovingly, of course, refused to help him, saying he will only learn if he manages to make it through life himself. How they had gradually started to drift apart.

Then he tells her of Valentine's Day, why he was in that restaurant, and how desperately he had tried to make things work with Ygritte. How he was about to leave when she showed up, and how she flipped his world around. He tells her of Ygritte’s desperate attempts to reach him throughout the weeks until she showed up in that alley. He doesn't stop at the assault, telling her of every word he remembers being said, every moan he regrets letting past his lips, every bruise he garnered at being thrown against the wall. He tells her everything up until the moment he fell asleep in her bed.

Sometime during it all, he starts crying. He feels terrible, seeing all his dumb mistakes listed off like this, as if there couldn't possibly exist a bigger failure in Westeros. But afterwards, in the silence that follows his last word, he feels strangely free.

Cerelle doesn't say anything for a long, long time. He doesn’t mind, for some reason.

Her fingers trace the rough patterns of her blanket.

He looks out towards the sea.

The clouds part to let the sun shine through for a moment.

“Thank you.” Cerelle's words are barely above a whisper. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Do you think I'll ever forget her?”

“No. You will heal, you will grow beyond her, you will no longer be defined by your trauma. But you will never forget her.”

It’s a terrible thought, but one he thinks he will manage to live with.

“May I-” He stops himself, then continues. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.”

He presses his lips together, scared of what her reaction might be.

“In that alley,” he begins carefully, “Ygritte called you… She called you a whore.” He whispers the word, not being able to say it out loud despite him merely quoting someone else. “She seemed to have recognised you. Then she suggested you had other lovers just this year, and at work, Mat said the same. That you are a playboy.”

Cerelle stares at the table before her, her blanket wrapped like a shield around her body, and he feels terrible.

“You don’t have to answer, I understand if-”

“No, you deserve the truth.” She takes a deep breath. “If- If there is something- If we ever intend to become something more, I should not keep secrets from you. You'll find out sooner than later, and I'd rather you hear it from me.”

Cerelle wants to stay with him.

“How much do you know about me?” she asks.

“Just what you told me.”

She cocks her head. “Are you not on social media? Do you never browse any gossip sites?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t have time for that.”

Perhaps the look on her face is relief, perhaps disbelief, he cannot quite say. It doesn’t matter when Cerelle starts talking.

She talks about every single one of her lovers. How she doesn’t remember the way it started, just that when she turned nineteen, she had long lost sight of her body count. How she was so desperate to break free of her family’s plans, she actively sought out their worst enemies to sleep with. How people started falling into her bed all on their own, no seduction or convincing necessary, because she had garnered such a reputation. How barely any of them cared about her - all they wanted was the ability to brag they had fucked Cerelle Baratheon-Lannister. How she still pretends they love her. How it’s the only thing she’s good at.

How she killed someone because of her recklessness. How she murdered someone in cold blood, and then got away with it.

She tells him names. Arianne. Helena. Florian. Harry. Zima. Henrix. Dahlia. Ramsay. Jayna. Alyn, whom her grandfather had wanted her to marry. Benjiamin, who had prayed with her for forgiveness afterwards. Humfrey, who had used her to get access to her cousin. And Balon, her bodyguard. The only one that would have genuinely wanted her in return, and the only one she could never bring herself to ruin the life of.

How she thinks of stopping, sometimes, but then is left with nothing to do otherwise. People expect her to whore herself out, they actively pursue her because they heard it was easy. How she makes it easy for them.

The press loves her, she says. The rogue daughter of the Lannister clan, the one stain on Robert Baratheon’s election campaign, the bane of the existence of Tywin Lannister. How she could have never turned out different with a mother like hers. Yet no matter what she does, her family does not care.

“I sometimes wonder what it would take to have my grandfather disown me.” She wipes away a tear from her cheek. “If it’s not the sex and not being queer and not funding his political opponents… There might not be anything I could do.”

“Why do you want your family to hate you? Shouldn’t you want them to love you instead?” It’s what he wants, oh so desperately above all else.

“I tried to make them love me, believe me. It did not work. And hate is better than indifference, because if they hate me they at least acknowledge that I am real.”

He doesn’t know what to say, because what was one to say to such a thing? A confession he never thought to hear from someone that appeared so perfect on the outside.

Terrified, still, that she might run away, he slowly stands up from his chair, takes the step towards her, and sits down beside her on the couch. Taking her cold hands in his, his eyes meet hers. Blue, endless, ever-changing.

“I don’t care how many people you’ve slept with. I don’t care who your parents or grandparents are. And I certainly don’t care how much money you have. What matters is that I get to be by your side for as long as you want me there. I want to be the one to make you smile and dry your tears and hold you tight in my arms whenever life gets tough. If you want the glitz and glamour of high society then I will accompany you there, but never believe that  I want anything less than the Cerelle behind the pictures.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and cups her cheek in the palm of his hand afterwards. “You are real to me.”

She kisses him, pulling his body so close to hers he thinks they are about to melt into one another. In her embrace lies every fear and anxiety, in her tears every moment of doubt and hatred, and in her lips the love she has always tried to hide. He keeps her close, for her sake and his own.

When they part, she lays her hands on the side of his face, smiling so brightly at him the sun pales in comparison.

“You deserve so much love. And perhaps, over time, I will be able to give you all of it and more.” She lays a kiss on his knuckles. “You may think that your mistakes define you, that you'll never be able to grow beyond what they made you. But merely looking upon what you have already achieved when the entire deck is stacked against you should show you none of it's true. You will reach any goal you set yourself, and I will accompany you to it all, if you let me.”

He moves underneath her blanket and presses himself against her warmth. She only lays a gentle kiss on the top of his head in response, before looking out towards the sea.

Cerelle does not believe him when he tells her this is his first time seeing the sea. Then she takes his hand and forces him into every activity one can do on a beach.

Perhaps forces is too dramatic. He likes collecting shells with her, walking barefoot in the sand, playing frisbee and catch, chasing after the seagulls. But she doesn't give him any choice in the matter either.

Cerelle promises to take him here again once it is warmer, perhaps during July or August, so they can go swimming. She looks at him from the side after saying that, and he laughs as he quickly tells her he does know how to swim.

They continue talking as they walk along the waves. And amongst other things, he finally manages to ask why she was at that restaurant on Valentine's.

“I worked there years ago. Nothing long or serious, I was trying to figure out what to do with my life. Most of my colleagues from that time are still there, and so I visit them on the odd evening. Valentine's was such a day. I sat in the kitchen, chatting with the staff, wondering if I should call up one of my old flings, when one of the waiters comes in and talks of a man sitting alone at a table. Happens every year, he said. Some poor fellow always has his date ditch on him.

“I looked through the door into the restaurant area and saw you on the other side of the room. So beautiful, so lovely, a wrapped gift on the table, yet staring down into your lap. I don't know what took ahold of me at that moment, but before I could react I had grabbed my things, walked through the main entrance, and pretended to be your date.”

An act of pure kindness had saved him that night, and had landed him on the beach he is currently standing on.

If only his colleagues- If only the whole world could see what Cerelle is truly like, she would have no need to disguise herself anymore. No one would hunt her to get an unflattering picture, no newspaper spreading new gossip on who she's dating.

She called him beautiful.

“What if I had denied your offer?” he asks, not quite knowing himself why he does so.

Her fingers trace his own. “I don't know. I never think that far.”

They talk about the assault again. And Cerelle tells him what she saw.

(Does he want to know? He needs it, that is for certain at least.)

It is nothing new, for the most part, and things he has already suspected. But then…

“I saw her kissing you and immediately thought the worst of it. I feel terrible now, considering what actually happened, but I was about to leave, to leave you alone with her, when I heard what she said. Do you really think you'll ever find someone else? You're damaged goods. Your body betrays you. I'm all you deserve. Someone said that to me once, and I… I just did what I wished someone did for me back then.”

He doesn't know what to say.

To hear her say this, just like that, without any warning-

He wraps her in his arms. “I'm sorry.”

“Jon, I- This should be about you, not-”

But she hugs him back anyways. Buries her hands in his jacket and her face in his neck.

When asked about it she says she will tell him more some day, but that she doesn't want to burden him with that right now. When the time is right.

During one of their chases of the local winged fauna, Cerelle stumbles over something and crashes headfirst into the water. He wants to run to her, see if she's hurt, but then she throws back her wet hair and lets out a string of curses so decrepit and vile, the only response he can muster is laughter.

She looks at him angrily, but it seems more pouty than truly threatening, and so he breaks out in another giggle.

When he finally regains control over his own body, he quickly steps towards her. “Wait, let me help you up.”

He extends a hand, she grabs it, and moments later he finds himself in the water next to her.

Now it is her turn to laugh, one that does not even end when he sprays her with a wave. Instead, she responds in kind, and they end up in what can only be described as a water fight entirely inappropriate for their age.

She sits above him eventually, his body pressed into the sand as the sea plays with his curls. Her lips meet his, but before he has time to fully enjoy their weight against his, a wave crashes over them and they are coughing and retching to get the water out of their lungs.

“I think we both need a good shower after this.”

Jon has heard some of Ygritte's friends - and his colleagues once - talk about taking a shower with their partner, and how great it is, and how it always ends in amazing sex. That was certainly true the few times he did it with his ex.

(He needs to call her that in his mind from time to time, otherwise he threatens to go mad with fear.)

And while he desperately wants to shower with Cerelle for that exact reason, he moreso wishes to do it simply to… well, shower. He wants to wash her hair and soap up her body and giggle as he shows her a silly scar on his thigh he got as a child. Afterwards he wants them to dress each other and cuddle up in bed and fall asleep in each others arms.

He wants to be intimate with someone without it ending in sex.

But he also respects Cerelle's religion, and as long as Maiden's Day has not passed, he will not bring up the topic.

They sleep in separate rooms again that night, and even though the nightmares of Ygritte return, he does not mind. Because when he wakes he simply lists off every beautiful thing he has done with Cerelle in his mind, and knows he is taken care of.

Returning to his crappy apartment is much less daunting now that he has talked about what got him into this mess in the first place. He has someone he can rely on now, someone that will protect and save him, or simply listen when needed.

Mormont admonishes him for calling in sick so late, and tells him he wants such calls to happen at least a day before. But then he asks if he is feeling better and gives him easier work for the day.

Jon sometimes wonders what the old man sees in him.

On Wednesday, Cerelle shows up in the shop.

They talked on the phone the day prior (for an hour!) without making any plans to meet up again, so to see her now, sitting in the office, deep into conversation with Sam, makes his mind short-circuit.

At least that explains the weird looks the others gave him on his way inside.

Sam spots him first, flushes beet-red, and quickly turns back to the PC. The confusion on Cerelle's face quickly fades as she looks at him, and she jumps from her chair with a grin - only to freeze a moment later.

Right. No hugging or kissing where others could see them.

She shouldn't be here at all.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I needed to have the accreditation for my bike renewed, and I heard this place does a thorough job with it.”

He nods.

Then Mormont enters the office. “All finished, Miss Baratheon-Lannister. Your motorcycle is in impeccable condition.”

“Great.” She smiles and steps towards Jon. “I assume he is finished for today?”

“Of course.”

Then she hands him a helmet and tells him to follow her.

Sitting behind Cerelle on a motorcycle again is certainly the last thing he wants to do right now, especially while the entire shop is watching them. But he refuses to complain in the fear she will never again let him ride behind her again. And there is truly nothing he loves more than being pressed up behind her, having to grip her waist, feel her body against his-

She takes him to the Red Palace.

They drive past the imposing building and its countless windows, down gravelled pathways and across sprawling fields until they reach what looks like some sort of farm.

“I think I've been far too easy on you,” Cerelle says with a smile as she takes off her helmet. “It's time we do something fun.”

“Were our previous dates not fun?”

She takes his hand and presses it to her lips. “Of course. But this, my love, is something different.”

And simply her calling him my love is enough to make him follow her without another question. Then they stand inside the stables, and he regrets everything that led him to this point.

“I don't suppose you ever learned to ride a horse, did you?”

He stares at the animal in the first pen. “Uh, no, not really.”

“It's actually really easy once you get the hang of it.” She drags him past the rows. “For today, I'll allow you to ride Starlight. She is my horse and the most well-behaved out of the lot.”

The animal she forces him onto has fur white as snow, and is at least tame enough not to throw Jon off the moment he climbs on.

What he does cannot be called riding in the slightest - he isn't even able to tell the horse where to go or when to stop. Both of them merely follow Cerelle on her brown mare as she leads them onto an open field.

They spend the better part of two hours on the horses. Sometimes Cerelle actually tries to teach him how to control the animal, how to stay on, how to make it move faster, yet mostly she simply gallops around the paddock, a wide smile on her face, her open hair waving in the wind behind her as Jon watches from the side.

One day, he thinks, I want to be the one to make her this happy.

They meet again on Sunday, and once again she takes him to her family's estate, yet this time she seemingly decides to be nice and instead takes him biking around the forest. They talk, they laugh, and he almost crashes into a tree.

Then they agree on another date - Wednesday, a dinner in the dark. He is excited the whole three days in the lead-up, but when he leaves work at 6 p.m. ready to hop on the bus, he receives a notification.

Cerelle: sorry, can't make it today. something came up with my family.

Nothing more, just that.

He waits for another message, an explanation, something, anything, but nothing comes.

This is how it started with Ygritte as well. Sorrowful, last-minute cancellations, that left him standing alone, confused and angry.

No, stop that! Cerelle is nothing like his ex - when she cancels she is sure to have a valid reason, he is certain. Her text is only so short because she is stressed, because the thing with her family she mentioned is actually serious. She would not simply leave him hanging like this.

He doesn't sleep that night.

Tossing and turning in his bed, he cannot help the doubt the fear the anxiety the disappointment the hatred welling up in him, eating him up from the inside and threatening to consume him whole. It doesn't help that Cerelle remains silent the following day. And the day after that. And the one after that.

On Sunday, he has even more time to think, because a client demands their car to be taken to him immediately, and the only one Mormont has for this job is Jon. An eight hour car journey to Riverrun, followed by an eight hour train journey back to King's Landing leaves him with nothing but time to think. To worry. To spiral further and further until the only reasons he can come up with for Cerelle's silence is that she’s either broken up with him or that she's dead.

He doesn't know which option he prefers.

It's past midnight when he finally steps off the bus. The rain beats down on his umbrella as he makes the miserable trek towards his apartment, and every time he steps into a puddle the water seeps through to his socks.

He has not seen Cerelle in a week. They have not called each other for far longer. The last time he received a text from her was that cursed message on Wednesday.

He decides to make his peace with it. Their- Whatever they have been has only lasted two months, it is not such an enormous loss all things considered. He experienced things he never would have thought - snuck into museums past closing, went horse riding, finally saw the sea - and for that he will always be grateful.

The heir to the Lannister name can add him to her endless list of conquests and forget about him in a month. He will cherish their shared memories, while laying what they were to rest.

At least, that was the plan. But sadly, no plan of his has ever worked.

Because when he nears his apartment building, a person stands in the dimly lit area in front of the door. Soaked from head to toe, wet hair sticking to her head, clothes almost see-through.

“Cerelle?”

Every bone in his body yearns to run towards her and fall into her arms, to forget everything that happened this week, and to go back right to where they were before.

But he cannot let himself be used, not again. They cannot fall into the same cycle as he and Ygritte had, he will not allow it. Not again, and certainly not with Cerelle.

She smiled when she spotted him, yet as she takes a step forward and opens her mouth, Jon has already said, “What are you doing here?”

Perhaps he is harsher than necessary, but it is past midnight, it rains, and he is so terribly tired.

Cerelle stops. She takes a shaky breath. “I came to apologise.”

“Yeah? What for?”

He needs to hear it from her, needs her to admit out loud what she did wrong. He cannot be as lenient as with Ygritte, he simply cannot.

“I cancelled our date,” she says quietly. “And disappeared for four days. That wasn't right of me, especially after what you just went through with your ex. I should have kept you notified, or at least let you know I was alright and that I would call you when I was back. I am sorry, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make it right.”

He doesn't know how to react. He had anticipated every single excuse Cerelle would bring, and had prepared appropriate responses for them all. That she would actually take responsibility had not even occurred to him in his wildest imaginations.

She would be willing to make it right. She clearly expects him to demand extraordinarily difficult things, ones that will take her years to achieve. And she would do them all.

“Where were you?”

“My family's private server was almost hacked.” She doesn't even hesitate with the answer. “Every message and email, all our banking information and every single address was under threat of being leaked to the public. We all had to come to Casterly Rock to have our electronics quarantined, audited, and wiped clean.”

Casterly Rock. The legendary home of the Lannister family, so old and ancient no one knows the true age of it. The castle is hidden deep, deep in the mountains of the west, and only the family and most trusted of servants know its location.

“I wasn't even supposed to send you that message on Wednesday,” Cerelle continues. She tries to wipe the water from her forehead, yet her efforts are quickly rendered useless thanks to the continuing downpour. “The moment the leak became known, we had to instantly take every phone and laptop offline and turn them off, in fear of worsening the situation. Had my grandfather known I texted you…”

He wants to feel glee at being the first thing Cerelle thinks of during a time of crisis, but forces himself to suppress those emotions.

“Do you-” He clears his throat. “Do you know who it was?”

She shakes her head. “Part of that impromptu family meeting was to find out whether any of us were at fault, but nothing came of it.”

The rain hammers down on his umbrella, rivulets flowing down beside him, the puddles by his feet growing in size with every minute that passes.

Cerelle still stands there, only clad in simple pants, a shirt, and a cardigan. All of it sticks relentlessly to her skin, yet the only sign she might be uncomfortable is how she never stops tugging down her sleeves.

She still looks at him. Full of expectation, full of fear.

“How long have you been waiting here?”

“A minute or two. I rang the doorbell and waited for you to answer.”

“I would not have heard you anyways. The building hasn't had electricity since yesterday.”

“Oh.”

He hates these moments of silence between them, but struggles to find ways to break them.

“Anything else?”

Cerelle has looked at him the entire time, yet now she lowers her gaze. Her shoulders almost unnoticeably draw inward, and no matter what happened the last few days, he feels terrible.

“No,” she says quietly. “I thought- I thought if I came here, I could try to make things right. Because I really like you, Jon. Gods, I've never liked anyone this much in my entire life. You are fun and kind and polite and sweet and wonderful, and you brighten my world simply by being in it. I know I don't deserve you but I thought I could make it up to you - that you could tell me how. But I see when I am not wanted. I apologise for wasting your time.”

She turns to leave, and Jon knows he is about to commit the biggest mistake of his life.

He cannot allow her to disappear, cannot allow her to walk out of his life, cannot allow her to leave him alone. He has made so many mistakes in his life, he refuses to add her to that endless list.

“Wait!”

He runs the few steps towards her. She turns towards him, her eyes illuminated by nothing but pure hope. He pushes a wet strand of hair out of her face, lays his hand on her cheek, and seals their lips in a kiss.

Cerelle exhales and melts into him, grabbing onto his jacket to press them closer together, as if it is the only way she could get him to stay. Her lips taste of rain and tears, of love and desperation, of every promise and vow she intends to keep.

He still has his hand pressed against her lower back as she breaks the kiss a long, long time later, refusing to give her the opportunity to run away.

Her fingers trace the lines of his jaw. “You don’t want me gone?”

“I never want you to leave ever again. I want you to stay with me, forever and always, until we are old and wrinkled and sick of the sight of each other.”

“I’ll never grow sick of seeing you.”

He kisses her again, hot and intense, and had it not rained he would have probably never stopped. Yet every time they move against each other he feels the rain against his skin and her wet clothes underneath his hands, and so he quickly separates himself from her and starts dragging her towards the building.

Cerelle is pressed against his body as he fumbles with the keys, and it feels as if it takes him so much longer than normal to get inside the building. But then they suddenly are and are running up the stairs, hands interlocked even as they reach his apartment and he once again struggles with the lock. He finally manages to wrench the door open, is pushed inside not a moment later, and then Cerelle is everywhere.

Her lips are on his and her tongue is in his mouth and her hands roam his body, push him against the wall, crawl underneath his shirt, and start unzipping his jacket. He doesn’t allow her to do all the work herself, quickly slipping out of his wet shoes and pushing Cerelle’s cardigan off her shoulders.

Then, suddenly, his shirt is off and her nails trace the lines of his chest and stomach. All the while her mouth moves away from his and her tongue starts exploring his neck, and when she suddenly sucks a bruise into the skin above his throat, he moans and his hips buck forward.

They have not even been going at it for long, yet he is already so hard. Cerelle grinds against the bulge in his pants over and over again, the zipper catching onto his tip and threatening to make him spill early.

He scoops her up in his arms and stumbles the few steps towards his bed. She giggles as he drops her onto the mattress, yet his mouth quickly engulfs her own and silences them both.

A minute later, and the rest of their clothes are gone. They are rutting against each other like clueless teens, yet he doesn't mind, especially once his dick glides through her wetness, and they moan against each other.

He tries to move down, to connect his mouth with her core, to finally taste her again after such a long time, yet Cerelle tightens her hold on his hair.

“No, please,” she gasps out. “I need you inside me.”

“But your religion-”

“It's past midnight. Maiden’s Day is over.”

How desperately he wishes to see her face in that moment, how much he yearns to be faced with her beautiful smile and her deep blue eyes. But his apartment still has no electricity, and what little enters through the window will never be enough.

Curse this broken building.

He would get out of this place. For her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I swear you can eat me out later but for now-” She lifts her head and places her lips beside his ear- “I really need you to fuck me.”

He groans and his hips buck forward almost on instinct, his tip brushing against her still damp stomach.

She traces her mouth along his neck again as his hand starts rummaging around the drawer of his nightstand.

“Mmh, looking for something?”

Her thumb draws lazy circles around his nipple, and no matter how much he loves it, it also serves to distract him quite effortlessly.

“Yea- Yeah. Condom.”

Then his fingers finally close around the plastic packaging and he quickly returns fully to his bed, and to Cerelle.

She kisses him, and he cannot even complain how difficult that makes slipping on the rubber because it simply feels too good. With her hands in his hair and their bare chests pressing together, he thinks he has entered one of the seven heavens.

As soon as he is finished, Cerelle’s hand is suddenly around his aching dick and starts beating him off lazily.

He grunts. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“Just making sure you're ready.”

Of course. He had almost forgotten.

His own fingers find her cunt and start rubbing circles across her clit, before he slowly enters one, then two fingers into her wet heat. He curls and scissors them as his lips move across her jaw.

“I think-” she breathes out. “I think that's enough.”

His hand replaces her own on his dick as he positions it at her entrance. Her hands are in his hair and on his back, her mouth mere heartbeats away from his.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

He enters her slowly, though he is unsure whether for his sake or hers. She is so wonderfully warm and tight around him, enveloping his tip and clenching down on him, and then her mouth is on his again and her leg around his waist to press him further. He obliges her - gods how could he not - yet with every move he makes inside her, he threatens to come on the spot.

Her hips slowly start to roll against his when he is half-way inside. Carefully, he draws back a little before thrusting inside ever so slightly, and when she lets out a whine, he does it again. And again and again, moving ever forward, until their hips are flushed against each other.

He breaks their kiss and lays his forehead on hers. She is tight and warm and wonderful around him, her walls gripping him like a vice, threatening to never let him go.

Her nails bury themselves into his skin. “Move, please.”

He moans when she tightens around him, and the small thrust his hips do in response happens almost automatically. She gasps, and he finally locks their mouths into a kiss again.

Slowly, he continues his movements, planting his arms beside her head to provide him with a better angle to thrust into her. The sole of her foot buries into his lower back to urge him on, to quicken his thrusts, to move harder. He doesn't want to listen to her, wants to savour her for as long as possible, but his control over himself is slipping.

Suddenly, his hips snap forward in a particularly mean thrust, and Cerelle moans out his name. He does it again, and she pulls on his hair so tightly his entire head is drawn back to reveal his throat to her - upon which she quickly latches her lips.

The moments flow into each other. He cannot say when exactly he has started sucking on her breast, or when both her legs have found their way around his body, or when their hands have gotten interlaced. Just that it happened.

He wants to be closer to her, always closer, but he never manages. Even when he presses his body against hers and buries his face in the crook of his neck and thrusts quicker and harder, it's never enough.

Not that it bothers his dick - the one that is throbbing and weeping and so close to emptying itself inside of her.

He whines as he removes himself from her heat, gripping the condom so it doesn't slip off and tightening his fist around the base.

“Are you alright?”

Cerelle's hands trace his face as she removes her legs from around his body and lays them on the bed beside his hips. He leans his cheek further into her palms.

“Yeah, I just-” His cock pulses. “I don't want to come yet. At least not alone.”

She smiles as she lays a kiss on his temple. “This doesn't have to end at just one orgasm, my love.”

He cannot help the way his hips buck forward.

Her lips vibrate against his skin as she laughs. “You like when I call you that? My love?”

A moan spills across his lips, and he has to tighten the hold around his dick.

“Y- Yeah.”

She hums. “Well then, my love. I have an idea if you're up for it.”

“Anything.”

“Sit back.”

He does as he is told in an instance, kneeling on the bed, hands beside his body. Waiting.

Then Cerelle straddles his lap, and immediately swallows up the moan that escapes him as her wetness presses against his dick.

She makes out with him for a while, moving her hips in slow and unhurried circles across him. His hands bury themselves into her sides, holding tightly onto her in a desperate attempt to centre himself and prevent himself from coming outside of her, when her wet heat is so close.

He whines as she bites down on his lip, and in revenge he presses his thumb to her clit.

Cerelle seems to fight against the need to move further into the touch, her nails scratching along the skin of his back, her damp hair falling into her face as she lays their foreheads together.

“You're mean.”

“Then put it in.”

He expects her to react affronted, yet she just laughs quietly.

“I like when you're demanding.” She runs her teeth along his jaw. “It's really hot.”

“Yeah?” He forces her to lift herself off his lap, grabs his dick, and positions it at her entrance. “Do you want me to fuck you this way as well?”

“If you can manage.”

She sits down on his cock in one move, and why he doesn't come right at that moment is a mystery to him.

They set a quick and brutal pace, chasing their releases, never allowing the other to take control, yet still pressed so closely together, as if they could not live without the other.

She twists her hips, and suddenly moans so loudly he knows he found her g-spot. He thrusts against it, again and again, sneaks his hand between their bodies to start rubbing her clit once more, and tries so desperately not to come.

He doesn't make it very long.

Cerelle gasps out, her walls clamp down so tightly around him he loses the ability to move, and then her juices spill out around him and into his lap. And that feeling makes him slam himself deep into her, and release as well.

They sit there for a long, long time. Their arms are wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other's necks, hearts beating in tandem. He plays with her hair, she plays with his.

“I think-” she whispers. “I think that was definitely worth the wait. Not that I ever want to go this long without feeling you again, it's just-”

“I get it.” He kisses her neck softly. “But now I need to try out everything with you.”

“Everything? Are you sure you know what you are demanding?”

“I hope it will take an eternity.”

Before they seperate, she kisses him again, and even if it's not in his top three - those places belong to the one on his birthday, the one during the music museum, and the one in the rain outside just now - it is still so incredibly sweet he wants to lose himself inside of it.

She goes to shower, and he truly does want to wait and give her time for herself. Yet he lasts barely a minute before he slips into the bathroom, falls down on his knees before her, and latches his mouth onto her clit.

Somewhere in the haze he notices her turning off the water, but he doesn't care. Can't care. His senses are flooded by her, and nothing but her, he physically cannot focus on anything else.

She tastes just as divine as the last time, and he vows never to let so much time pass again. He sucks on her clit and fucks her hole with his tongue, feasting on the juices spilling out of her. Her moans echo off the bathroom walls, and he is sure everyone in the building hears her.

He doesn't care.

She comes without him ever needing to finger her, and he knows he shouldn't be as proud of himself as he is.

Cerelle draws him to his feet and smashes their mouths together, likely tasting herself on his tongue.

“What was that for?”

Her fingers run along the skin of his back.

“You promised I could do it.” He kisses her nose, then her cheek. “Besides, we're even now.”

She is silent for a moment, then asks, “The thing from your birthday?” He nods. “I didn't know we were keeping count.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. But be warned - I am a very competitive person.”

“I'm betting on it.”

They decide to shower together, luckily without any other incidents, and she borrows the same long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants as she did on their first night together.

He prepares the bed for them, Cerelle picks up their clothes, folds his together and hangs hers up to dry.

Then she stands there in the darkness, looking at him.

“Is everything alright?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

He stops.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

She doesn't move either.

He quickly lurches for the table, and the phone that lays there, but he crashes into the chair and goes tumbling to the ground.

“Oh my gods, Jon!”

Cerelle falls down beside him, hands reaching out for him, but he just fumbles with his phone until the weak flashlight illuminates the space between them.

“Say it again.”

Her cheeks are still tinted slightly pink, her wet hair sticking to her skin, her blue eyes glowing as brightly as the night they first met.

She studies his face.

“Say it again,” he repeats. “Please.”

Her lips are so beautiful, so inviting he has trouble holding himself back.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

He surges forward, the phone dropping to the ground as he presses their faces together, but he doesn't care.

All that matters right now is having his girlfriend's lips on his.

previous | next

author's note: i just want to say that i do not actually hate ygritte. i know this is a very controversial opinion amongst jon snow x oc creators but i do not think she is as terrible as certain sections of the fandom make her seem (but she is also not as great as certain other people say). i understand her place in the story and why she was important to jon's arc. i am still tagging this post as anti ygritte just to be safe.

i want to thank everyone who has supported this au so far. i would have never even continued this story had it not been for a random anon asking about the future of jon and cerelle's relationship in this world, so to have now written the longest chapter in my life so far for the au is kind of amazing.

you might think i want to take a break after creating such a monstrosity, but i am insane and so the next chapter will release on labour day (may 1st). it will hopefully be a lot shorter than this one.

please tell me what you think of the story and if you have any wishes for scenes or holidays in the future. see you next week ^^

[dewcrafter]

Tea and sketches (pt. 4 of the painter)

It's been a week since I met Omi Omi, his name is Sakusa Kiyoomi but i'm sticking to calling him Omi Omi which he doesn't seem to mind and it turns out he actually had a name for me throughout the years and it was lotus because the first drawing he ever drew of me was me smelling a lotus, samu says that one of the lotus's meanings is rebirth which got us both thinking about our art and throughout the week we've been looking through old art, getting Omi Omi's dad and my mom to dig out old art that wasn't easy to find but we got enough to really show that we were really drawing things from our perspective and with the pieces together it showed a beautiful story, well that's just my opinion I don't know how Omi Omi feels about it all but he seems content "lotus?" said Omi Omi, catching my attention 

"yeah?" I asked looking up from the green tea I was zoning out at 

"we should make a painting together" he said, making my mind race for what we could paint together "yeah! What should we paint?" I asked curiously 

"why don't we paint this" he said looking away and to his koi as he threw some food in for them "that's a great idea!" I said smiling at him as I pulled the lotus tea cup to my lips to take a sip, he had a very cute lotus tea set the cups we're all blue with little lotus plants and petals with fish in the background while the tea pot was shaped with a lotus flower as the top with fake vines covering the handle and the body of the teapot faded from the flower head to underneath the painted water showing a koi and the stem of the beautiful flower "you really like the teapot huh?" said Omi Omi making me look away from it's beauty to an even lovelier sight 

"yeah, everything in your house is so mesmerizing" I said looking away at the surrounding area "I can't believe you paint and also do ceramics and it's so cool how your the definition of perfection at both" I said thinking back to his collection of ceramic fruit cups that are literally the cutest things ever. 

After tea we went off to a a very popular art store called Sekaido Art Supplies and there we bought a 20x40 in canvas, after getting the canvas and stopping by my house for some extra paint and my easel we went back to Omi Omi's house and sat down on a tarp he put on his floor and got to work sketching our sides of the canvas, often getting up to stare outside and put together all the pieces of the scene. 

After hours of talking and sketching we found that the sun had set and it was getting dark so I grabbed my things, said goodbye to Omi Omi and headed home on the walk home I thought about Omi Omi and how he calls me lotus, the nickname I like it and it's very cute but talking to him reminds me of how in three months i'll be joining the volleyball team MSBY black jackals in osaka which is really exciting and all but i'll be not only leaving my twin in tokyo but also now Omi Omi and I guess suna too but it's also so exciting to get back into volleyball again I finished up my thoughts when I got home to see the lights still on which was weird because samu was usually totally out of it after work so I walked in to make sure he didn't pass out on the floor from overworking himself "atsumu!" he said when I opened the door "where have you been!? It's been more than 6 hours since you left the house to go hang out with Sakusa and you're only getting back at 11?? Are you serious i've been worried if he killed you for goodness sake" he said storming over to me making me huff out a little laugh "you sound like ma" I said not really caring about his concerns "yeah yeah whatever" he said annoyed "don't ever come home this late again or I swear ima file a police report" he said crossing his arms 

"chill out samu I can handle myself perfectly fine" I said walking into my room and setting my things onto my table "what were you two even doing today?" questioned samu as he leaned against my door frame like a whore "drinking tea in his lovely backyard and feeding the koi and then he came up with the idea to paint a portrait together so we went to the store and bought a canvas and then while you were at work we dropped by and grabbed some extra paint to store at his for when we get to painting and then we started our sketching of it" I said happily 

"jeez what's with that love sick grin of yours" said samu frowning making me glare at him 

"well I bet it's the same smile you give sunarin when it's just the two of you" I fired at him 

"yeah okay so what's got you so into sakusa?" questioned samu 

"everything!" I said plopping down on my bed, getting the hint he walked over and layed down with me "did you hear the nickname he gave me!?" I questioned excitedly 

"yeah it's lotus" said samu sticking out his tongue and making a gagging gesture 

"yeah it is and it's ADORABLE" I said "just hearing him say lotus and knowing that i'm lotus is just so-" I said kicking my feet in happiness 

"yeah well suna calls me Hibiscus" said samu in his stupid i'm better than you tone 

"okay and? Lotus is a way cuter nickname" I said rolling my eyes 

"well lotus only means beauty, purity, prosperity and eternity while the hibiscus means love at first sight, beauty, love and emotional healing" said samu gloating about it 

"well at least lotus sounds way prettier than hibiscus and isn't a mouthful" I said shoving him lightly "yeah whatever you gremlin" he said sliding off my bed and walking off to his own, closing the door on his way out "GOODNIGHT SAMU" I yelled after him 

"GOODNIGHT TSUMU" he yelled back. 

[toomanywordsnllines]

There's something about the way you colour that scratches my brain in the perfect way. I could stare at your work for hours and be content

Anon.... crying in my room (positivly) (so positivly) because of your message :') That's such a nice thing to hear :D!! Thank you for taking your time to send me a lovely message!! Because it absolutely made my entire day (and week....and month....) Have this lil (old) Soap as a Thank you <3

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

credit- prompt list

taglist-@captainmads2092 @mahitochan @nakachuchu @bakugohoex @jotazinha @osmosly @avasparks @p-each-y-day @lilshortcakess @saturnmoon @deary-darling @menaintshit23 @tobidabio @sukuna5slut @instantnuma @kuroshitsujjiii @half-baked-biscuit @duskamethyst @sukumen @radishfern

[feyre-darling92]

Alive and in Love - Chapter 3

Cassian Andor x reader

A/N: Here’s part 3. I just don’t know how awful is this because I am barely alive so forgive me if this sucks. Anyways, hope you like it.

T/W: Language, Blood, graphic descriptions of sensitive content, killing stuff, bad writing, mainly bad writing, let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 2,818

Taglist: @stanny-uwu​ , @hollymac79​ ,  @triumph-of-form-over-content​ ,  @michelle-l-a-k ,  @lovepeaceorelse​

Part 1 , Part 2

The next morning you woke up earlier than you’d like but instead of trying to rest you thought.

He was right. You never had a particular reason to act like this, you didn’t have a reason to hate or dislike each other. In the beginning, it is true that as the best agents there was rivalry, but this was not the main reason, that was the excuse, what you had convinced yourselves it was.

All the times you had worked together you had decided to keep things professional, forming attachments both dangerous and forbidden, but now you found yourselves in a position where this couldn’t continue.

Maybe it was because he knew so much about not only you but your family, as you discovered, yet you knew nothing about him. You had your secrets, secrets that you fought to keep hidden not for your safety but for the others, but as time passed you wanted to learn more.

But you couldn’t find the reason. You couldn’t find the reason even if you wanted to. But even if you found it it would just complicate things more.

You regretted, all of this but you knew that there was not an easy way of getting out of this. That’s why living was a curse. You couldn’t love, couldn’t be free, and your only protection was the agency you worked for.

Sighing in defeat at your own thoughts you got up and opened the window so the sun could light your room. Another day alive, a curse. That’s what was it.

Coffee seemed a good option at the time but when you went downstairs, to the kitchen and found the two men talking quietly you regretted it. You wanted to clear things up but for a reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

“Good morning” you walked past them, your eyes trying to avoid his stare. He replied firmly, having the exact same feeling.

What you don’t know is that he stayed up late yesterday, thinking the exact same thing, why did you do this. Only that he knew. He knew but wouldn’t admit it because he knew that it was meaningless.

He had come to a realization that he didn’t hate you, no. He liked you, more than you think. But he had his secrets too, and he knew that he had to stay away from anyone to keep them safe.

In other words, you were both trapped, your past hunting you. You didn’t hate each other but couldn’t be anything more.

You finished making coffee and sat on the table with them, eyes avoiding each other’s stare.

“The art exhibition is today,” Cassian said and took a sip from his cup, “They will all be there, plus a wealthy man called Frank Adler”

“Isn’t he the one who is said to have an influence on one of the ministers?”

“Yes, he is. That’s why I think they will strike tonight. Don’t forget that Alexander has a vision he wants to share”

“You mean to enforce” you corrected him.

“Correct. We need to go armed, though. I don’t think they will hesitate to strike, even if innocent people are involved. What do you have with you?”

“I have my gun upstairs,” you said and got up, pulled some books from the shelf, and took the box that was hidden “And these” you handed it to Cassian who opened it and revealed a gun, bullets, and two communication pieces, “Does this covers us?”

“That will be fine” he stood up, “We’re leaving in the afternoon”. With that, he left you and your brother who also excused himself to go to work.

You sat alone in the kitchen, alone in your thoughts.

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

The next hours you and Cassian avoided each other, only talking when necessary.

You had tried to gather all of your strength and courage and go ask him what he meant but every damn time you opened your mouth to speak nothing came out. He had tried too but the same thing happened and you ended up avoiding each other and your thoughts.

You were getting dressed in your room when you heard a knock on your door, “Are you ready?” Cassian’s voice was heard from the other side.

“Yeah, just give me a moment” you replied. Taking a deep breath you opened the door.

“You’re beautiful”. These words surprised you, he had never complimented you before. “You’re not bad yourself,” you said and headed to the exit of the house.

You heard him chuckle, “You’re really generous with your compliments” he followed you and you smiled at yourself.

At least the ice was breaking.

You got in the car, he was driving of course, and watched him as he drove. Thankfully, the square was about ten minutes from there so you didn’t have a long trip ahead of you.

“About yesterday,” he found the courage to say but you interrupted him,” I wanted to talk to you too”

“I was just going to say that” he took a deep breath and continued, “I didn’t mean what I say”

“Me neither” you played with the hem of your dress, the thought alone of looking at him right now was too much.

“I do trust you. I just wanted you to know it” his voice was now soft, a voice you hadn’t heard before.

“I know it” you tried to smile and finally looked at him. Your words lifted a weight in his chest, relief taking over worry. “I trust you too”

You both knew that these words meant something more but you wouldn’t acknowledge it just yet. Instead, you stayed in comfortable silence, the things you had admitted enough, for now.

When you arrived the square was already crowded with people, music playing in the background the sun lighting so slightly the sky. “This is where the fun begins” he whispered in your ear as he placed his hand on your waist, gently pulling you closer to him.

You’d lie if you told me that you didn’t like his touch, his breath against your neck as he spoke. But you were just colleagues and that’s all that mattered, you reminded yourself.

You encountered many acquaintances, asking them politely about their jobs and their family. To them, you and Cassian were introduced as an engaged couple who met each other at your work, an office job for a publishing company. They never asked more questions, either not caring or respecting your privacy.

You pretended that you were looking at the paintings and the sculptures that were exhibited, but in reality, you were trying to find your suspects. It was only an hour later when Cassian leaned closer and whispered “The brothers are here. Six o’clock” you discreetly turn in the direction he had told you and saw them, drinks in hand talking with Frank who as it seemed had arrived with them.

You were trying to get a better view without getting caught but it seemed impossible. You were scanning the space, hand around Cassian’s elbow when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Y/N? I can’t believe it!” scared of who this female voice would belong to you turned around and tried your best not to show your discomfort at the person in front of you.

“Jessica! Long time no see” you pretended that you were happy to see her. In fact, you felt terrible.

You both went to the same high school and let’s just say that she made life hard for you. Of course, she always pretended she saw you as a friend but you knew that she was a reason these years were a living hell.

You left Cassian and hugged her, “How are you?” you asked politely even though you had no interest in learning.

“Oh, you know, I studied at college and now I am working in dad’s company, it’s hard but you know, I am the best there. I live in a big house in New York but I am thinking of moving out to somewhere better” Classic Jessica. She continued talking about her career in photo modeling and you started feeling insecure just as all these years ago.

“But, how are you doing?” she asked after a while with a tone that showed that she didn’t expect you to have achieved anything.

“I am working at a publishing company as an assistant manager” you faked a smile.

“Oh, that’s great. You always liked reading books, even though we all believed you were boring. Really, are you with someone? I bet you’re single”

“Actually” you heard a voice, his voice from behind you, “We are engaged” Cassian wrapped his arm around your shoulders protectively. He had heard your conversation and couldn’t help himself from stepping in.

At Cassian’s appearance, Jessica’s jaw dropped and you smiled shyly. Before she could say something a man appeared.

“Jessica dear, this is Mr. Smith. I was talking to him about your career in-” The man’s voice stopped when he realized that his daughter wasn’t alone. He greeted you politely and-

Shit

Cassian’s hand tightened around your shoulder at the sight of the man who was along with Jessica’s father. He was Adam Smith.

“I see you’re talking with your friends. If you excuse us-” her father started and Cassian interrupted him, “It’s ok, we were about to leave”

“Nice to see you, Jessica,” you said goodbye and moved to leave but someone stopped you.

“I am sorry, miss-” Adam said to you and you froze in place.

“L/N. Soon to be Andor” you faked a smile and your hand found Cassian’s.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he observed you better.

“I didn’t have the luck to meet you before, sir”

“Then I must be mistaken. Pardon me, and nice to meet such a lovely woman” his tone was suspicious in the beginning but friendly, or at least he wanted to sound as such in the end.

You and Cassian left and only after you were at a safe distance you breathed out, “This was close”

“This was very close. And if he knows you from somewhere then this complicates things more”

Two hours later nothing important had happened and you decided to grab a drink. On the way, you saw the two brothers talking quietly, secretly almost and you approached them pretending to look at a painting next to them.

“Is everything ready?” one asked and the other replied. “He is in the storage room behind the cafeteria. Or at least what’s left of him”

At the sound of these words, you almost dropped your glass.

“At least he will stop being such a bad influence on the government”

“Are you sure Alex knows what he is doing?”

“We don’t have a choice but to trust him”

So they had regretted it. When you made sure that they didn’t have to say anything more important you left, heading off to find Cassian. When you told him what you heard he took your hand and guided you out of the crowd, where you could talk without anyone hearing you.

“Are you sure what you heard is right?”

“You said you trust me”

“I do. But if this is real tonight is going to be hell”

“I know. I already let my brother know and he said that he would transfer the information to the chief. If that’s real then we’ll have to find him and arrest them” you said but heard footsteps. You turned in their direction and saw the shadow of someone coming closer and closer.

Immediately Cassian pushed you against the wall and started kissing you, making sure you were covered and the man couldn’t see your face.

In the beginning, you were surprised by his action but then the feeling of his lips against yours, his hands wrapped around you made you forget everything and you realized what you felt all along.

You loved him.

You continued kissing even though the man was long gone, but you didn’t care.

He finally pulled away, both breathless from the kiss, and looked you in the eyes.

“Cassian-” you whispered but he cut you off, “I know. But not now,” he said softly and cupped your cheek, apologizing that he couldn’t talk with you now. But you understood.

You nodded and you quietly went to the storage room the two brothers had talked about. The door as you’d imagined was locked but before you could act Cassian took out his gun and shot the lock, thankfully the music too loud for anyone to hear.

You took out yours too and slowly walked into the dark. You took out your phone and lit the place, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. And then you saw him.

“Y/B/N, are you on the line?” you talked through your communication piece.

“Yes, what happened?”

You felt a tie at your throat as you spoke, “They were right”.

The sight in front of you was-how could you even explain it?

His corpse was tied on a chair, his inside was out and his head was chopped off, only hanging by one small piece of skin.

“Cassian-”

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” The chief’s voice spoke through your communicator, “Leave now!”

By her tone, you could understand that something serious was about to happen. “Ma’am we found him and-”

“Their men are coming in your direction, leave now!”. Your blood froze at the sound of her words.

“They are coming” you turned to Cassian who was examining the body.

“There’s something here” He took a piece of paper from the corpse. It was clear that whoever had done this wanted you to find it.

Before you could reply you heard more footsteps and closed the flashlight. You were standing in the dark.

You held your breath as the door opened and closed again. You didn’t know how many had entered but you knew that the exit was too far for you to reach without being noticed.

You tried to take a step but the floor beneath creaked revealing your position. You stopped in place and two gunshots were heard along with two screams.

You and someone else had shot but the screams were not yours and that’s when your mind thought the worst.

“Cassian” You shouted and then another gunshot was heard, the bullet missing you by a couple of inches. Another one followed and a hand grabbed yours. “It’s me” he whispered and dragged you out of the room.

“You’re fine” you breathed in relief but it didn’t last as three men appeared out of nowhere and started shooting.

You shot the first one and Cassian shot the other two but before you could run away two hands grabbed you from behind and then you felt the cold metal against your temple as Adam held his gun pointed at you.

John appeared from the corner, his gun pointing at Cassian. “Drop your gun or your partner dies” he ordered so he did.

That’s when you understood it. They knew who you were. But at this point you didn’t care, you couldn’t care because in your mind there was only one thought, one name.

Closing your eyes you tried to think of a way out of this. But there wasn’t.

“Please” you whispered, “Don’t do this”

Your last hope was that your brother and the chief had heard from the other side what was happening.

“You fools really thought that you could kill us?” John said as he approached slowly, gun still pointed at him. “You can’t stop us. You are involved in this as much as we are. And either we’ll all die gloriously or like traitors. Kill her” he said first to us and then to his brother.

You were convinced that there was no way out of this when the last shot was heard.

Only that it didn’t hit you but Adam, his blood spraying all over you, his lifeless now body falling to the ground. John turned to find the sniper and Cassian hit him on the head.

You were just standing there shocked, trying to progress what had just happened when you felt two hands on your shoulders gently shaking you, “We have to go”

You followed the order, finally coming back to your senses. “Are you ok?” you asked and he nodded, “I am fine”

“Where’s the car?” Jyn appeared next to you, she was the sniper you realized. You ran, avoiding meeting anyone, and only when you were safe at your home you took a breath.

They knew.

But all you cared about now was him because you loved him. But you knew, you both knew that from now on things would be too dangerous.

[angstama]

god knows you tried | manjiro (mikey) sano

pairing: bonten!mikey x reader 

genre: angst

warnings: heartbreak, attempt suicide(?), original characters/manga plot (pls do not read if you haven’t read the manga D: ), mentions of religion, implied sex (no smut ok!)

summary: god knows you tried your best. if only mikey knew how hard you’re trying too then perhaps this love wouldn’t hurt as much as you thought. 

 words: 1823 words 

 a/n: i think this sucks but... i hope you enjoy it! <3

god knows you tried.

you watched the ex-toman boys eagerly catching up with takemichi quietly, hands resting against your chin as you took in the rare sight in front of you with a sad smile etched on your lips. this was the happy ending that mikey had sacrificed for everyone but himself. 

“a penny for your thoughts?” mitsuya asks, plopping down next you on to the stone steps. that’s right, it’s june 19th 2018, toman’s formation day anniversary and everyone had gathered around to re-open the time capsule from twelve years ago. “hm? nothing much. just missing a particular someone.” you hummed, dragging your fingers across the ground to draw a heart. mitsuya nods understandingly, knowing not to pry any deeper anymore and for that, you’re thankful. 

crouching down, you hesitantly picked up the the blue coloured envelope you left behind twelve years ago. unsure if you’d wanna read the contents of the letter your naive self written back then. with a deep breath, you slipped open the cover. revealing a photo of candid photo of you and mikey leaning on each other asleep with your mouths wide open taken by emma. 

dearest y/n, 

i wonder what you’re doing right now? 

are you perhaps finally studying in film? 

has that idiot manjiro finally proposed to you?

 or are you the one who proposed to him? 

“y/n, you’ll be with me for a long time right?” mikey asked, staring at the very sky that you both loved oh so very much with your hands intertwined. having grown up with each other since young had pretty much given you both the illusion that the two of you will always be a part of each other’s world. and you hoped with every inch of your heart that mikey wants it to be that way forever. “of course. you’re my heaven and home mikey. i wouldn’t go anywhere else without you by my side.” you squeezed his hand in assurance, knowing that at this very moment, mikey was at his most truthful and vulnerable self with you. 

whatever it is, i hope that you’re living the happy life with him that you’ve been dreaming of. 

signing off, 

toman’s honorary member, y/n l/n. 

everyone was silent. even hakkai who had been making fun of everyone’s letter kept quiet. the boys knew how much you loved and you still love mikey. each opting to give you the concerned and sympathetic look. you could feel you heart breaking even more for you knew you weren’t doing anything that you had hoped for back then. 

you felt mitsuya’s comforting hand softly grabbing onto yours. “well that’s depressing,” you chuckled softly, wanting to get rid of the awkward tension in the air as soon as possible. “let’s grab some ramen, i’m starving.” and with that, you let your feet drag you away from the heavy atmosphere with your head hung low. 

perhaps the hurt wouldn't be as painful if you weren’t the only one who knew what kind of path mikey had chosen to go down. you see, when mikey turned his back against all his closest friend, you had the privilege of staying as his only constant thanks to your stubborn nature but even with that, you weren’t enough to keep him away from his dark impulses. mikey chose the path to destruction and the only thing that you could do was watch from the sidelines and be there when he shows up at wee hours of the night to borrow your body. but you didn't mind. it was during these most intimate moments with mikey that you finally get to feel a piece of him again when he spews the words of “i love you” so effortlessly. 

god knows that you tried. 

“mikey those aren’t good for you.” you frowned, snatching the capsule away from his hand seconds before he could flush it down his system. “what the fuck y/n?” the angered male snaps. you felt yourself falling and back colliding against the hard ground. opening your eyes, you see mikey pining you down with nothing but void darkness in his eyes. “i’ll fucking kill you if you do it again.” mikey taunts, he was serious and you know it. 

“then kill me mikey.” the words slipped out of your tongue instantly. you were tired. tired of trying. you don't know what else can you possibly do to help mikey anymore. mikey says nothing but got off you. he dusted himself and without sparing you single glance, he showed you his back again, walking out of the door where sanzu was already holding open for him. “get her home.” you heard him say. 

it’s been a week since you guys opened the time capsule. nothing much had happened since then except you’ve been spending more time with hina considering how she’s often over to mitsuya’s studio for gown fitting. you admired and envy her love story with takemichi. but who were you to complain? you were lucky enough that mikey still wanted you around. so it shouldn’t hurt so much when you sae her adorning the beautiful wedding gown that mitsuya had spent months on tailoring. 

you let out a tired yawn, stretching your arms above your head as you finished touching up the last few bits of editing on your laptop. you looked over at the calendar on your table, a pink heart circled over today’s date and smiled. “mitsuya, i’m gonna knock off first okay?” you announced, tidying up your table and reaching out for the bag of the familiar favourite deserts of a certain male. 

mitsuya nods, “thank you for your hard work y/n”. he flashes you a smile, eye slowly trailing to the white plastic bag dangling from your side as you waved goodbye, back facing him and walking away. “you’re going to see him aren't you?” you stopped in your tracks. “i know he never left you. plus you got a bag filled with dorayakis and taiyakis. that’s pretty obvious.” mitsuya chuckles. you always knew mitsuya to be perceptive but it never once occured to you that your best friend who is also your boss would ever catch on to the secret you’ve been hiding for twelve years. 

“how did yo-” 

“be careful y/n.” mitsuya waves you off, going back to whatever he was doing. a fond smile creeps onto your lips as you watched mitsuya working hard. “thank you mitsuya. for everything. really,” you whispered, but loud enough for the dual dyed coloured hair boy to look up again when you walked away. 

you made your way towards the secluded vip section of the club through swarms of body swaying around you until you saw the familiar tall pink haired male standing outside the golden door. 

“hey sanzu,” you greeted, barely audible over the loud booming music. you were about to push the door open when sanzu towers over you immediately, denying you of your entrance. you looked at sanzu in confusion, “it’s me, y/n. i’m here to see mikey.” you said loudly, voice straining to over power the background noise. “ i know. but mikey will not be seeing anyone right now.” he retorts back. 

surely mikey knew that you were visiting tonight right? after all it’s your anniversary date. you tilted your head at sanzu. not fully understanding what he’s saying. to say that you’re feeling absolutely livid would be an understatement right now. you’re too tired, angry and broken hearted to process anything anymore so you exploded. you only wanted to see your boyfriend. was that a very difficult request? 

“sanzu,” you said lowly, eyes staring blankly into his and as if on cue, you brought your knees to his precious manhood before making another high kick at him, bringing him down. it was a technique that mikey had taught you when you were younger and attending martial arts lesson together with baji. god you missed baji so much. 

“y/n because you’re short, you can do this instead.” mikey suggested smugly, kneeing poor baji’s little friend before swinging his legs much more harder than he intended to at baji’s profile when he bent forward. the main point was to get your opponent to lean forward so that your legs could reach high enough to create an impact on their skull. you eyes lit up in excitement, “wow! that’s so cool! let me try it!” you jumped impatiently. turning towards mikey to execute the exact same move. “wait n-! AHH,” mikey’s eyes widened, and before he knew it, you had completely knocked him over. 

that day, as mikey and baji lied down with pain still intact barely moving an inch, shinchiro only gave you a thumbs up and praised you for taking down the invincible mikey. you were the only one who could do that. 

“sanzu, i’ll see my boyfriend as and when i’d like to.” you said curtly, eyeing sending daggers at him lying on the ground before stepping over him to swing the door open, revealing your petite self to the other bonten’s executives and hostess who were staring at you in surprise. 

you don’t see anyone else but your lover who’s currently sitting in the center with two pretty hostess sitting by his side. you don’t hesitate and begun walking  towards him. “get your hands off my man.” you said calmly. there was tension in the air and from the corner of your eyes, you could see the executives slowly getting up to leave as if on cue. 

“aren’t you as stubborn as always,” he raises a brow as you settled down next to him, pouring the bag of dessert on the glass table in front of you. you smile softly, grabbing a packet of taiyaki and handing it to him before grabbing one for yourself too. “happy 14th anniversary mikey.” you mumbled softly before grabbing a bite.  14 years, that was how long you two had been together for. “mhm. happy 14th anniversary y/n.” mikey hums, allowing you lean in close to him and resting your head on his chest. 

you take in the scent of mikey for you knew that this is going to be the last time you’re going to be able to hold mikey close to you. you didn't want this moment to end but you were too tired to continue on and see what's going to happen the next when you go back to just another normal day. you held tightly to the gun you hid in your bag, shutting your eyes tightly. 

“hey mikey,” you called out. you never thought you’d see it again but you saw a flash of endearment in his eyes when you called him. “i love you so much, promise you’ll take care of yourself alright?” you smiled warmly before pulling the gun out of your bag and putting it against your head. 

god knows you tried. 

god knows you did your best and now you’re going home. 

bang!

[worth-more-than-two-thousand]

Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know. 

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry! 

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes. 

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run. 

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder. 

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand. 

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will. 

Oh, if Fives could see him now. 

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?” 

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space.  “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha. 

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?” 

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. 

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame." 

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!” 

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.” 

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?” 

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling. 

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.  

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. 

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands. 

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear. 

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.” 

Or not. 

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at. 

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking. 

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”   

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp. 

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’ 

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone. 

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could. 

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all. 

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town. 

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy. 

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment. 

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away. 

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to  the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days… 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’ 

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious. 

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building. 

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers. 

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock. 

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock. 

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself. 

He looked ridiculous. 

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death. 

What if she was with someone new? 

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all. 

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open. 

Two Y/C/E eyes met his. 

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face. 

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him. 

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter. 

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand. 

He guarded his heart. 

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear. 

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back. 

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?” 

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.” 

“...good.” 

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten. 

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear. 

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear. 

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty. 

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes. 

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling. 

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing. 

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were. 

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation. 

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face. 

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.” 

[lubdubsworld]

Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2    Chapter 3     Chapter 4     Chapter 5   Chapter 6  Chapter 7   Chapter 8

Summary : Times are changing. After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all….. He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.

: Pairing : Taehyung x OC / Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content

Chapter 9

“I believe you owe me an explanation....” My father’s voice was soft and steady, his gaze piercing as he stared at me. I could feel my skin thrum with distaste and the urge to take a shower was strong. I wanted to scrub my skin off, Eun Woo’s touch somehow lingering and heavy on me.

“Give me my phone back.” I said instead and my father shook his head.

“No can do. Those men you met? Paranoid bunch. They thought you and Eun Woo might have been recording something and they wanted me to check your phone. i had to reassure them and so, just for good measure, I destroyed it.” 

I glared at him.

“I’m still waiting for an explanation. Two weeks ago you couldn’t stand the sight of Eun Woo.... And now here you are, at my Yacht club , claiming you’re dating the man. What are you trying to pull?” My father prompted. 

“There’s nothing to say. I just... I lost my job at the preserve and I can’t really look for anything else right now Eun Woo is just helping me out.” I whispered.

My father looked surprised. 

“That’s interesting, I see your pride isn’t as strong as it was when I introduced him to you at the preserve.”

I kept quiet. 

"Good. I’m not surprised that you’ve come around to be honest. You are your mother’s daughter after all. Gold digger that she was, at least she left you some of her good looks for you to cash in one, yeah? ‘.

My breath caught in my throat, lips wobbling as tears sprung .

“But still.....the fact that you would whore yourself out to a bunch of animals, to keep him? It makes me wonder. What exactly is going on here, that I’m missing” ”

Taehyung , I thought miserably. I wanted him so badly right now that I felt like I would shatter if I didn’t get away from here. 

I glared at my father, feeling disgust well up at the mere sight of him. 

“I’m not going to do any such thing.... I’m just helping you . Eun Woo told me you’ve been looking to finish the deal and those men wanted to see me at the resort on the seventeenth. You should be thanking me right now.  . ” I said defiantly and my father’s eyebrows rose. 

And then he chuckled. 

 “I feel like you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew. But just remember, this is your doing and if things go south, i am not risking my entire reputation to rescue you. ” He said firmly. 

“I can take care of myself.” I said shortly. I clenched and unclenched my fingers , trying to ground myself. 

It was so amazing, how blind my father could be. He hadn’t suspected Eun Woo at all. Merely chalking him off as a perverted wolf who wanted to make a bit off money at his resort. Eun Woo was smart as well, being obtuse and sounding foolish on purpose, playing into my father’s belief that wolves weren’t intelligent. 

. And this would be his downfall, I thought vindictively. The way he continually thought that wolves were foolish. That he was somehow smarter than them....

“I am not sure if I trust you entirely so I’ve asked Eun Woo to keep an eye on you, till the seventeenth. You can stay with him at his apartment.  ” My father said thoughtfully

I kept my gaze down. 

“At first i considered calling the whole thing off but apparently , Eun Woo’s onto something with the whole beta wolves being into voyeurism. Perhaps that’s a whole new avenue I could look into.... Those men out there....I’ve been showering them with gifts and women for months and this deal wouldn’t come through. But Eun Woo sweeps in, dangles you in front of them and suddenly they want to finish this deal in five days? Apparently,  you’re  the secret weapon I should have been using all along?”

I glared at him.

He looked thoughtful as he stared at me. And then he nodded, features hardening. 

“So be it... You can go fuck that wolf in front of those men and I’ll get my work done. Always knew you weren’t unlike that mother of yours....” He smirked.

I felt my heart clench at that. My mother had been nothing but innocent. I recoiled when he made to stroke my cheek and he laughed again. 

“He’ll come pick you up in a couple of hours . Take a shower and fix yourself. ” He gave me one last look before leaving. 

The door slammed shut behind him and I sank to the floor. I stared around the room... groaning. 

And then my eyes fell on the small pink phone, sticking out of my bag. My dad had taken my phone but not this . It was the pair to the toddler phone that I’d bought Luna so many moons ago. After my fallout with Taehyung I hadn’t used it at all but it had remained at the bottom of my bag. It would only connect to its pair, but no matter. 

Grinning, I pulled it out, dialing quickly. If nothing else, at least dear , sweet Luna’s voice would cheer me up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you’ll make all the arrangements?” Eun Woo watched Taehyung carefully, the Alpha wolf sat behind his desk flanked by two of his closest men, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin. The betas were built like fucking walls , both of them narcs in the force. They stared at him, eyes narrowed in distrust and for the first time Eun Woo felt the first inklings of regret.

Taehyung for his part looked like he believed him.  A laptop stood open in front of him, and the wolf had a Bluetooth device in his ear, obviously watching something on the screen. Eun Woo wondered if he had even listened to anything he had said. 

“So that’s it? You offered them the resort and they said the deal’s going down.” He asked casually and Eun Woo nodded , realizing that Taehyung had been listening to him after all. . 

“On the seventeenth. Yoon Jae hyun’s going to be there.”

“And Mirae...?”

“Well, just as a guest...I did imply we were seeing each other so it would be less suspicious if she were also around.” Eun Woo willed himself to sound normal. 

Taehyung didn’t look suspicious but there was no telling with the beautiful alpha, who had mastered the art of keeping a straight face while destroying his enemies. And Eun Woo was well aware that if the alpha found out how he had used the girl, he would definitely be topping that list. 

“Very well. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. You can go now. I’ll contact you soon.” Taehyung said shortly , his gaze flitting back to the screen infront of him. 

Eun Woo nodded, before standing up on shaky legs, his heart pounding, instincts telling him he was in danger. But he pushed away the thought, grabbing his bag and leaving the office quickly. 

Taehyung watched him leave, claws out and digging straight through his desk to stop himself from launching across the room and tearing the wolf’s throat out. He could smell her on him. And his wolf wasn’t happy about it. 

“Fucker’s got balls, lying to your face like that.” Namjoon commented mildly, staring at the laptop, where for the past hour or so, Taehyung kept replaying the CCTV footage from the poolside camera on the yacht club. 

Taehyung stared at the screen, watching the sheer discomfort and disgust on Mi Rae’s face and he’d never been filled with so much bloodlust in his life. The urged to rip the wolves to shreds, to tear them limb from limb, it simmered in his blood. 

The potent rage in his veins stunned him because he’d never felt anything like it before. If he’d had any doubts about whether his wolf had made the right choice, choosing Yoon Mi Rae,  it was gone. The sight of those men, ogling what was  his  and his alone, it made him want to kill. 

They had to die. And he had to do it.  

Simple as that.

And he would. 

He would run them through with his claws and watch the life blood drain out of their frail, fragile bodies. 

it took him some effort to compose himself. 

“How long has he been running this little racket in his resort?” Taehyung asked casually, feeling inordinately foolish. It was unlike him to be so neglectful over something so incredibly important. How on earth had Cha Eun Woo managed to run something so illicit and horrendous right under his nose? 

He blamed himself.

 He’d trusted Cha Eun Woo, for one hot minute. Forgotten that the wolf's loyalty lay solely with himself.

Namjoon sighed, placing a file in front of Taehyung. Taehyung flipped through the pictures , stomach turning. Eun Woo had huge sprawling rooms , with beds in the center  fitted with restraints and handcuffs. Comfortable arm chairs and couches dotted the rest of the room, men lounging about as they watched the action unfold.  Women,  drugged and barely conscious,  lay on most of them and apparently, alpha wolves indulged themselves with the women.

It was the most disgusting thing he had ever encountered in his life. 

And the bastard had actually dared, actually had the fucking thought of dragging his  mate  into it. 

The mere thought of it made Taehyung laugh out loud. 

Cha Eun Woo was out of his damn mind. 

 There really was no other explanation for it. Or maybe he’d been so blinded by his own wealth and power that he’d forgotten that Taehyung was ten times as powerful as him. 

Well, whatever the reason, he clearly had a death wish. 

And Kim Taehyung was going to grant it to him. With Pleasure. 

“It’s new. or we would have caught wind of it before.” Seokjin said apologetically, “ Probably a few months at the most. He mostly uses the men to get tax exemptions or do get ordinances cleared for his resorts or you know, get out of adhering to construction regulation and stuff like that. In return for letting them watch alphas knot human women. ” Seokjin’s face was scrunched in disgust. 

“And when I let him meet Yoon Jae hyun and his cronies, he saw an opportunity to expand his clientele and he took it. “ Taehyung hummed thoughtfully. 

“Mi Rae’s with her father....” Namjoon said thoughtfully.

“Knowing that son of a bitch, he’ll probably force her to go through with it.” Seokjin shuddered.

“Well, let him bring her there. We’ll get her out. And arrest the whole lot of them.” Namjoon said with a shrug. 

Taehyung stared at them for a second. 

He had been determined to do this by the book, at first. But watching Cha Eun Woo molest his girl, while a bunch of impotent , old bastards ogled her....well, that really changed his mind about how he wanted to deal with these motherfucking idiots. 

“No.” Taehyung said casually.

Namjoon and Seokjin stilled.

“Tae?”

“We’re not arresting any of them.” He said casually. And then he gave Seokjin a slow, calculated smile. 

Namjoon’s eyes widened as realization set in. 

“Tae-” He began , looking worried but the Alpha merely stared at him.

“I’m going to trust that my two best men are going to make that happen for me?” he drawled, eyes flashing red in a way that said it wasn’t really a request.  

Seokjin groaned.

“Fine. But we’ll still have to get an arrest warrant and all that. Don’t want the guy to be hailed as a victim or a martyr after I kill him. that always pisses me off.” He said distastefully and Taehyung hummed.

“I’m going to leave that to your capable hands, gentlemen. “ 

“We’ll get things ready then. “ Namjoon said casually making to move away and Taehyung nodded, watching the two betas move to the door. 

“Good., oh and one more thing....” he called out , making them both turn. 

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asked , confused.

“Cha Eun Woo... he’s mine. Bring him to me when you’re done with the others.” Taehyung whispered. 

Namjoon grimaced but Seokjin merely grinned. Ironically, although he looked soft and almost feminine in his beauty, Seokjin was the meaner one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung came home to see his daughter giggling uncontrollably on the couch, her phone pressed to her ear and he was confused.

The only one who could call her on that phone was him and-

His eyes widened, realization hitting him hard as he all but pounced on the couch, wrestling the phone out of Luna’s hands before he could think his actions through.

“Rae...” He breathed in disbelief.

“Taehyung?” Her voice came out surprised and relieved and he felt like he was flying. It felt like liquid honey in his ears, the sweet cadence of her tone filling him with sweet blessed relief. He hadn’t even realized how badly he had wanted to hear her voice, to get some confirmation that she was alright. 

“Dada dada dada...gimme gimme ...I wanna talk to Rae Rae...!!!” Luna bounced next to him, tugging on his arm and he struggled to keep his balance. 

“ How did you call? I’ve been trying to reach you and-”

“Dada!!! Please...i haven’t spoken to her in ages...lemme talk to Rae Rae...!!” Luna’s voice was shrill and unrelenting. 

“My dad got my phone.... I’m supposed to be with Eun Woo” He could almost see her rolling her eyes as she said that and he felt fondness bloom inside him at the though.

“Dada!! Lemme talk!” Luna was beginning to climb him now and he flinched when her tiny little claws came out, easily piercing the silk of his shirt and digging into his arms. 

“Damn it! Luna will you let me talk to your mother for one damn second?!!!!!” Taehyung shouted, frustration spilling out of him before he could tamp it down.

Luna froze on his arm. 

It took him another ten seconds to realize what he just said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart thudded straight up to my throat, my lungs constricting so hard that I almost choked. 

I gripped the phone hard, fingers shaking as i tried to process what I’d just heard. 

“Shit... Oh shit..” Taehyung swore and I startled. 

“Don’t swear in front of her...” I hissed automatically . “ Taehyung what the fuck-”

“You’re swearing now!!” He shouted.

“Can you blame me?” I shouted back, my heart pounding. “ I’m not...what the hell do you mean mother?!!”

“I’m sorry... I don’t know why I said that.. It just slipped out.. i... you’re my mate and ... I know you told me not to call you that but I’m sorry , that’s what you are and she’s my daughter so I guess I just.. “

“We’ll talk about this later. “ I snapped, too tired to deal with his twisted feelings. “You have to get me out of here! The last thing I want to do is spend another minute with Cha Eun Woo. ” 

“God, Rae... are you alright? ..”

“I’m fine but can you get me out of here? I wanna get out of here!” I whispered. 

“Are you in your dad’s apartment? Is he hurting you?”

I sighed in defeat, knowing exactly what was going to happen.

“Let me guess....you want me to stay with the pervert till you finish saving the world.” I groaned.

“We need him at that resort on seventeenth. This whole thing is beginning to infuriate me and I’m going to end it. For good.” Taehyung’s voice carried a hard edge to it that made me wince.

“Are you gonna be there?” I asked, worried. 

“I am.”

I bit my lips.

“Did Eun Woo tell you how he got those men to agree to come there?” I asked hesitantly. 

“He didn’t but I know. Don’t worry about, I’ll deal with that....”

“If he didn’t tell you how did you know?” I asked, confused. 

Silence.

“ i planted a bug on him. And I had spycams set up around the pool.” 

“I didn’t like what he did.” I whispered. “ I don’t... I know its for a reason but the way he touched me I... I didn’t like it...” 

Taehyung didn’t respond for a few seconds.

“ Mi Rae , what he did was so far out of line that I can’t even begin to tell you how angry it makes me. But, don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of him too. ” He said finally.

I felt myself itch with the need to get away. To reach Taehyung. And Luna..God, listening to her voice after so long....listening to her happy , joyful delight.,..

“I want to see you.” I begged, dignity forgotten. “ I want to see you and Luna.. Taehyung get me out of here!! Please.!!!” 

Taehyung groaned. 

“Baby, listen to me... just leave with Eun Woo for now , he won’t touch you, I’ll make sure of that.....”

“No you can’t make sure of that!!” i snapped. “ You don’t know how it felt to have his hands on me.... I.... I can’t bear the thought of him near me... Please, please, get me out of here.” 

A steady beeping made me jump and I stared at the phone in my hand. A red light blinked steadily on the upper edge made my heart drop. The battery was running out. Of course it was . I hadn’t used this in days. 

Tears sprung before I could tamp down on my own misery,

"Tae...Can you hear me?” I choked out. “ Tae... I can’t explain it. I feel weird.... I feel miserable and scared and to be honest, I hate my own skin right now.... Ever since he touched me... I feel like ....”

Another series of beeps and the call ended. My fingers were shaking as i stared at the phone in misery. 

This whole thing was spiraling into something scary and unpredictable and for once, the fear refused to ebb. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Taehyung...we can’t...”

“Call him.... We’re moving this thing up to tonight. I’m not waiting a whole four days to rip these bastards to shreds.  ” Taehyung roared, clenched fist coming down on the mahogany surface of his table with enough force that Namjoon heard the tell tale sound of wood splintering.

He flinched. 

Taehyung was enraged and the beta wolves felt like they were walking on literal eggshells. 

Seokjin held a hand up, trying to calm the infuriated wolf. 

“Okay... Okay...listen , we can’t just go in guns blazing and just kill some of the most  prominent men in the country, Taehyung. That’s not how it works.  ” 

Taehyung tried to keep his temper in check but it was impossible. God, the way she had sounded on the phone. Cha Eun Woo was lucky he wasn’t in front of him right now... Taehyung was going to tear him limb from limb for this. 

“So what, I just hand her over to him for the next five days?” He snarled. That wasn’t going to happen. it would be one thing if she was comfortable with it, but there was no way he was letting Eun Woo within fifty feet of her, not when she sounded so upset. 

“This is what happens when you ignore your fucking biology and act like a whole entire idiot. “ Seokjin snaps. “ There’s a reason people spend days locked in after mating!! Your bond is fragile and sensitive. Just because you don’t want to fuck her into the wall anymore , it doesn’t mean your bond is settled. She’s probably feeling just as worse....and she likely has no clue why ...” 

Taehyung felt his head throb.

“She’s human...she won’t feel the bond...” He muttered.

Seokjin scoffed.

“Are you serious, Tae? The mating bite connects you to her. You know that right? Yes, its not going to be as potent as it is for us , but human mates can sense the bond. The reason she’s so desperate to see you right now is because you carted her off with another wolf, before the bond could even settle. A wolf who for all intents and purposes sexually assaulted her.” 

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d been avoiding that thought , tried to downplay what Eun Woo had done, just for the sake of his own sanity. But Seokjin was right. What Eun Woo had done was just that and Taehyung had literally given him the license to do it. 

“I need to see her .” He whispered softly. 

“I’ll go get her.” Namjoon replied gently.. Taehyung stared at him, frowning.

“How?” he asked, shortly. His mind felt so foggy, so unlike himself. He was usually the sharpest man in any room, solving problems before they even cropped up, ever missing anything. But right now, he couldn’t think beyond getting her back in his arms.

“With them... I’ll go with them and tell Eun Woo I’m going to bring Mirae here..... Will that be enough? We’re this close to ending this for good, Tae. Don’t ..let your instincts mess this for you...”

Seokjin scoffed.

“Shut the fuck up, the pair of you. Taehyung stop thinking with your dick for a second and consider what we’ve been doing..... This raid has been in the works for three whole years. We’re not going to do something stupid now. Namjoon and i will go see Eun Woo....Give him a taste of what will happen if he touches Rae.... and then we’ll be back here.” 

He smiled then, wide and beautiful and even Taehyung felt a cold shiver run up his spine.

Seokjin continued, 

“ Five days from now, we’re going in, collecting enough evidence to bring the bastards down and then, to satisfy Taehyung’s bloodthirsty soul, we’ll rip a few throats out too. How’s that sound?  ”

it sounded fucking fantastic especially the last bit. 

“What if you piss Eun Woo off and he calls off the whole thing...?” Namjoon protested and Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“The mutt’s playing in the big league now. He was the one who offered them the whole show, think they’ll take too kindly to him backing out all of a sudden? Probably won’t..... He’s gonna have to stick with it. If for no other reason than to cover his own ass. ” 

“You’re not leaving Rae with him. I want to come with you guys....” Taehyung said firmly. 

“Oh, God. No. Absolutely not. I’m not burying Cha Eun Woo’s decapitated body tonight. That’s just not going to happen.” Namjoon held his hands up.

Seokjin grinned.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, Namjoon is right. You don’t have to be there. Don’t worry, we’ll be thorough. Make sure he understands we aren’t playing around. And we’ll think of something with your girlfriend. We can’t bring her to you.... Jae hyung has eyes on you , you know that. We’ll make sure she’s somewhere safe.  ” 

“You know you can trust us , Tae. We’re going to make sure this fool gets what he deserves.”

Taehyung nodded, skin still thrumming with discomfort. He wasn’t going to feel better until he saw her, but it looked like he had to wait for a while. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at the two wolves flanking Eun Woo, each one holding him up by one arm, his knees bent at an odd angle. He looked unconscious . 

“Sorry. He wasn’t supposed to pass out but the fucker’s just a huge ass coward. Didn’t even last five minutes.” 

“Five minutes of what?” I whispered, staring in mild horror at the blood dripping steadily from the man’s temple. 

“Five minutes of us demonstrating what happens to people who covet things that don’t belong to them.” Seokjin smiled brightly. 

“Jungkook’s on the way here.... You know him right? Taehyung told me he’s a friend of yours.  He’s going to let you crash with him for a couple of days  That okay? “ 

I stared between the two of them.

“Are you sure? My father....” 

“Oh your father won’t know, sweetheart, don’t worry about that.  You know the original plan was for us to just warn this fool and he would come to his senses . But he chose to be an idiot and mouthed off about fucking anyone he wants to fuck.... So, Joon and I are going to keep him away from you. We owe Taehyung that much.” The wolf had a breathtaking face, impossible to look away from. 

“Can’t I go to Taehyung?” I said stupidly and they exchanged looks.

“No wonder he’s whipped. She’s gorgeous.” Namjoon muttered under his breath. 

Seokjin elbowed him sharply.

“Uh.. no. That’s going to be difficult because ....well, for starters its going to be pretty suspicious if you randomly show up at the Official residence of a Minister.”

 I flushed.

“He’s not staying at his condo?” I asked hesitant.

Seokjin shook his head. 

“He’s taking office in a few days, Yoon Mi Rae, ssi. He’s under the limelight right now. Which is why we think it would be safer for you to stay elsewhere. Your father is probably watching him closely.” 

I closed my eyes, feeling jittery. I startled when arms wrapped around me, warm and firm. 

“hey..... you alright?” The taller, dimpled wolf gave me a concerned glance and i realized I’d swayed a little. 

“I’m sorry... I’m fine.. I’m just...”

“It’s the bond.” Seokjin said gently and I stared at him.

“Bond?” I muttered, confused. 

“He claimed you. It sounds archaic but you do belong to him. Your body recognizes that even if your heart or mind doesn’t. “ He sounded almost apologetic.

I groaned.

“So I’m going to feel this way...”

“Anytime someone else gets close to you, yes.” 

I remembered how averse I had been to Jungkook touching me in the tub, that morning after. 

“So this isn’t real? I want to be with him but it isn’t real...and I can’t be with anyone else either -”

“Hey...Hey...listen. That’s not what I’m saying. Just the fact that the bond formed is proof that you guys have something special. If you weren’t into each other his wolf would have rejected the bond at once. But I’m just saying, for a few days, maybe indulge your baser instincts and stick to him, yeah? Once the bond settles , you can make better decisions without being physically affected by them.” Seokjin said gently. 

I sighed peering over at Eun Woo.

“What are you going to do with him?”

Seokjin hesitated.

“Take him to our place probably. Can’t risk him running around wrecking havoc. Don’t worry about it. Five days max. This whole thing will blow over and you won’t have to see him again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You okay?” Jungkook placed a pair of towels at the foot of the bed, looking concerned as he stared at me. I sat on the bed, knees drawn up and arms folded over them staring at him. 

“I’m so screwed.” I whispered. 

Jungkook smiled.

“It always feels that way.... at first. Don’t worry, you guys will work this out.” 

“I’m scared. My father ...he... he’s always been a bastard but... I never saw him as someone dangerous. But I think he is. I’m scared he’s going to hurt Taehyung.” I said softly, finally voicing what I’d been worried about all along.

Jungkook gave me a sharp look.

“That’s not going to be easy. Hyung can take care of himself. I’m an alpha myself and you won’t see me going against him. Everyone knows he’s not someone you should underestimate. “

“But I’m still worried..... I... I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I’m glad you don’t want me dead anymore.” 

Taehyung’s voice sent a jolt of electric current straight up my spine. I scrambled, turning around to the window in shock. 

The alpha sat perched on the window sill, looking entirely unbothered for someone dangling a good fifty feet off the ground. 

“Hyung , what? Get in here!!!” Jungkook hissed, reaching for him, but he was already throwing his legs over and dropping to the carpeted floor with ease. 

“Don’t trust you enough to leave her with you for the night, Jungkook-ah...” He said casually, but his eyes danced with mirth. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“She smells like you now hyung.... I’m not going there ..”

Taehyung gave me a surprised look. 

“She does?” 

“The bond’s settling then.” Jungkook said. “ This is my cue to leave. Where’s your security detail hyung? Tell me I’m not going to get shot in my sleep for kidnapping the Minister for Supernatural affairs.” 

Taehyung chuckled.

“They know where I am... I’m only here for the night. I have stuff to do in the morning.” He turned to me holding his arms out, “ You okay?”

I threw myself at him without a second thought. 

It felt like gears slotting together perfectly, his arm around me calming the simmering discomfort under my skin so quickly that I went limp. 

I closed my eyes, gripping his tight, letting my eyes fall shut as I inhaled the musky , woody scent of him. I heard the door close softly behind Jungkook and Taehyung ran his palms up and down my back.

“I may possibly be the worst mate in history.” He commented mildly.

I snorted.

“There’s no competition there. You win, hands down.” I muttered. He pulled back to stare at me, hands coming up to gently cup my face.

“I’m going to kill him.” He said softly and I frowned.

“I thought he was only doing what you asked him to.” I said , frowning.

Taehyung gave me a sharp glance. His hands slipped to my wrists, tugging me to the bed. I settled on the mattress and he took his shoes off carefully. 

“God, no. Do you really think I’d do something like that?” He gave me a wounded look and i bit my lips.

“How would i know? All you told me was that you needed Cha Eun Woo to help you”

Taehyung hesitated.

“He’s been running a brothel in that resort. A brothel were old or impotent wolves can watch alphas knot human women..... Its been going on for a while. i never knew. He’s been hiding it really well.” 

I felt my jaw come unhinged. 

Suddenly, the way he had talked about how I would look, having sex with an alpha wolf, the way he had described it to those men, it made sense.

“He told them ... he made it seem like I was one of those women.” Bile rose up in my throat.

Taehyung reached out, fingers lightly gripping my waist and tugging me closer.

I hesitated, not sure what he wanted but he scooted back to lean on the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him and he held his hand out again.

“Come here.” He whispered gently.  “ i can think better if you’re in front of me” 

Seokjin’s words echoed in my head ,   maybe indulge your baser instincts and stick to him, yeah? Once the bond settles , you can make better decisions. 

I crawled over on my knees. 

Taehyung reached out , gripped my waist with both hands and lifted me straight up into his lap like I weighed nothing. i yelped, knees hitting the mattress on either side of his waist as I tried to spread my thighs wide enough to accommodate him . 

He kept his hands on my waist, grabbing the hem of my blouse and tugging it out of my skirt. He slipped his fingers in till he grazed my bare skin, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against the heated flesh. 

“Feel good?” He whispered softly. 

I tilted my head, regarding him thoughtfully.

“When have you ever made me feel anything but good, Alpha Kim?” I smirked, my tone dripping with sarcasm. 

The fingers on my waist tightened, hard enough to bruise and I choked  , gripping his shoulders , feeling the hard jut of his shoulder blades beneath my fingers.

“Behave.” He warned softly, “ I’m trying to start this right.”

I sighed.

“Start what?”

“This.. You and I. Together. As more than just friends.” 

I straightened, surprised.

“Taehyung-”

“I came here tonight, not because I had to...not because I needed to... but because I  wanted to.  I want you to know that. I’m here not by obligation but because I wanted to see you. Because I care for you.” He stared right at me but i couldn’t help but be wary. 

I looked away. 

“That's not what you said the last time we met which was literally this morning...” i protested. 

“ Rae, I was so fucking scared. I’ve been living inside my own head for too damn long. I’ve always had these....fucking rules inside me. Rules that i couldn’t bring myself to break. I don’t break the law, I don’t get involved with humans, I don’t trust humans, I always do stuff by the book..... But today, just...seeing what happened at that pool...... I realized I’ve been so fucking blind. ”

I swallowed.

“That’s not your fault...”

“It is... “ He said shortly. “ I’ve been so caught up with keeping my own rules, with fighting humans that I forgot that not all wolves are saints either. I’ve been so focused on your father because he’s human that I didn’t even consider that the men actually funding and dueling this entire drug racket...they’re wolves like me. That it isn’t humans who exploit us but men in power. Men in power who twist the law and use it as leeway to do whatever shit they want. “

“You couldn’t have known.” I said weakly.

“I could have. If I’d wanted to.  Two months ago Cha Eun Woo built a beach side resort in Jeju Do, very close to some endangered coral reefs I remember reading about it and wondering how he could have possibly gotten a permit to do that shit. But then i never followed through with it. And I wonder if it was because I considered him a friend. A friend whose favor I would need in the future. And what does it say about me, if my moral values are so selective? I can’t act high and mighty about bringing your father down while I’ve been letting Cha Eun Woo run a fucking sex trade right under my nose.” 

I pressed a palm to his face, my heart breaking at the sheer exhaustion on his face. 

“You can’t fix the entire world, Taehyung. You’re not meant to single handedly solve every problem in the country...... “ I whispered.

He shuddered.

“But if i don’t , who will?” He stared at me. “ Someone has to make an effort right?” 

I nodded.

“Yes... You’re right. And you’ve done enough. You’ve done more than your fair share. And you can do so much more, if you let yourself relax. If you let yourself breathe when you’re drowning you can swim so much further.” 

He stared at me. 

“My daughter.” He choked out. “ She really thinks you’re her mother. “

I bit my lips in distress. 

“Tae, I’m so sorry-”

“ Her mother died when she was barely three....So she doesn’t remember her much. She only remembers her scent which was yours.... She... She really wants you with us, Rae.”

“You shouldn’t have said that on the phone. What were you thinking calling me her mother...” I whispered, shaking my head. 

“  I think I  saw you as Luna’s mother. the moment you held her that day, in the dock , in the rain. The way she relaxed in your arms...The way her face lights up at the thought of you... I... I want that for her. I want her to have that...forever.” 

I let myself look at him. 

“And what about you? What do you want? “ 

He held my gaze for a long time. I felt my heart begin to pound, anticipation clawing up my spine. 

“a bowl of patbingsu would feel great.” He said seriously. 

It took me a second to realize what he’d just said. I punched his shoulders, not in the mood for jokes at all.

“Sorry sorry...that was bad timing.” He grinned. 

“The worst. Are you asking me out or not?” I demanded.

"I am asking you to move in.” He said softly. “ As my mate.” 

I couldn’t bring myself to speak. 

“It may seems too much , especially for a human but I’m a were and I want you in my house. Want your scent there, mingling with mine and I want my daughter to see us together. I want you to be...the woman I love.” 

“Don’t throw the L word around like that . It scares me..” I muttered and he smiled.

“I’m not a teenager Rae. The L word as you call it, it doesn’t scare me. I have a daughter, I know love in its purest form. And I’m not afraid of saying it either.” 

“Well, I’m just not sure if you even mean it.” I said desperately. 

“I do mean it. I love you and I know that because I broke every rule I’ve been keeping for the past twenty years , just because of a five minute video clip of another guy touching you .” 

I shook my head.

I felt overwhelmed. 

Somewhere beneath that chaos, I was happy, of course I was. But for now, the exhaustion and weariness won out, and I edged closer, resting my head on his shoulders. 

He hugged me closer and i felt the gentle press of his lips against the top of my head. 

“Let’s sleep.” I whispered. “ I’m so tired.” 

He hummed.

“Would you like me to leave?”

I shook my head. 

“No. Stay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, to find myself on my side his arms wrapped right around me, tight and firm. I wondered how numb his arm must be, and wriggled a bit, swallowing the dryness in my throat.

He grunted and gripped my waist, stopping me from moving.

“You need to stop grinding on my dick, darling.” He choked out. I froze, face flaming. 

“Sorry... I...”

“It’s alright. What’s wrong?” He whispered, fingers brushing my hair back. 

I stared at the wall in front of me, lightly stroking the arm wrapped around my waist. 

“I feel better when I’m with you.” I whispered. “ Even when i barely saw you, those months in your home in the preserve...I always felt better when you were around. It was irrational, how much I liked you and wanted to be with you, seeing as I didn’t know much about you at all... And It makes me wonder, if perhaps you and I, perhaps  we aren’t that different.” I said. 

He hummed.

“How so?”

“Maybe wolves aren’t the only ones who can sense their mates . Maybe humans can too....maybe we sense it but we’re just too scared to act on it.” 

“Why should you be scared...?”

“Because sometimes, even your mate rejects you and that stings.” I smiled. His grip tightened around me.

“I will spend the rest of my life atoning for what I put you through...” He kissed my neck and I trembled. 

“It wasn’t a sin.” I said laughing at how serious he sounded. “ It was you being true to yourself . i appreciate that.” 

“But I hurt you. I hurt my mate. As a wolf that is unforgivable.” 

“Well , then you’re lucky that I’m not a wolf, aren’t you? Because I’ve already forgiven you.”

He tugged me around gently till I was on my back, before climbing on top of me. 

“Can I kiss you?” He brushed the hair off my face.

“I don’t know. Can you?” I grinned at him. 

He growled. 

“brat.” 

He pressed his lips against mine, a soft and gentle touch that lasted for just a few seconds before he drew back. 

And then he leaned in again, this time , lips parting, soft and wet as it closed over mine, tongue sweeping across the seam of my lips, begging entrance. I relaxed into the pillows , letting him take the lead. 

Taehyung kissed like he did everything else, firm and hard but somehow careful and gentle.

 The soft press of his fingers on my chin as he tilted my face for better access, the way his tongue licked into my mouth in soft kittenish licks, the way his teeth nibbled on the plushness of my lip, only for his tongue to lick and sooth the sting right after....

His kisses tasted like scotch and honey, like spring water in the middle of summer , cool and refreshing nd reaching so far inside me that I ached for it. He was strong and warm against me, his hair felt like spun silk beneath my fingers . i traced the contours of his face , the sharp edge of his jawline, the softness of his perfect brows and the sharpness of his collarbones. 

My mind was reeling by the time he pulled away. 

“Can I fuck you ?” He asked softly and I jolted at the filthy words in that deep earnest tone.

“I don’t know Can yo-?”

He didn’t let me finish. Groaning as he sat up, gripping the hem of his t shirt and peeling it off. I watched as he shimmied out of jungkook’s sweatpants ,before straddling me again. 

“Take that t shirt off for me.” He smiled and I quickly shrugged it off. 

“Mmm.... beautiful. I love your breasts....such pretty pink nipples.” He said casually and i choked a bit when he reached down, thumbing at the hard nubs till they pebbled up under his touch. 

I threw my head back as he bent over, peppering kisses all over my jaw before moving down to lick my nipple, lips closing over the nub for one second before nipping at them with his teeth. I felt the hardness of his erection against the softness of my stomach as he grabbed my panties, tugging them off me.

“I like it rough.” I whispered into his ear and he growled, reaching forward and grabbed the hair at the back of my head, yanking me away from his face. 

“Then let me fuck your face.” He said casually, scooting forward and pressing his cock right up against my lips. I took the hard length of him into my mouth. He tasted tangy and familiar , from the texture of his skin like silk on steel , to the way slight saltiness of his precum on my tongue. I loved the way his fingers gripped my hair, just a little too tight for comfort and a little short of violent. 

I moaned in disappointment when he pulled out a little, but only to place himself properly , one hand gripping the head board for support. Bracing himself against the headboard, Taehyung threaded one hand through my hair, gripping carefully till heat seeped through my entire body at the sting of it, and then he began thrusting into my mouth gently, pushing past my teeth and deeper into my mouth. I inhaled each time he pulled out, trying to tamp down my gag reflex, as i took the entire hot, wet length of him inside my mouth. 

He picked up the pace, letting go of the head board in favor of gripping my hair in both hands, holding me in place as he fucked into my mouth till my eyes watered. 

I felt myself  dripping wet with arousal and I tapped his thighs. He pulled back to stare at me.

“You alright?” 

“Fuck me.” I choked out, throat fucked raw and voice breaking. “Need you inside me now-”

He didn’t wait for me to elaborate, grabbing my waist and turning me over at once.

“Hands and knees., grab the headboard.” He growled and I scampered to obey. 

“Good girl, Now just hold on let me make you feel good, yeah, baby?” 

I felt a soft, wet kiss right on my spine, before fingers gripped my hair again , tugging me back just as he slid right into me. 

The shock of it made me stop breathing, his cock so thick and hard it felt like I’d been split open. 

“How does that feel baby? ...” He whispered, bending over and kissing my neck. “ Am i making you feel good” I fought to get words out and then groaned when he slid back in , a little rougher and a little faster.

He stopped again, pulling out and hitting my thigh, the sharp sting making me yelp.

“Roll over, sweetheart.” He whispered and I blinked groggily, rolling over to stare at him. He grabbed a spare pillow, folding it in half before pushing it under my hips. 

i blinked in confusion as he loomed over me again, this time grabbing my leg and throwing it over his shoulder. before pushing back in. deeper this time, the tip of his cock hitting so deep that I felt a sting of pain that made me wince.

He caught the look on my face and smiled, apologetic.

“Sometimes, too big isn’t too good. You’re a little small for me, I’m hitting your cervix. Let me fix that.”  He fixed the pillow again and this time when he pushed in , it was pure pleasure, his cock brushing my g spot with ease and making me clench around him like a vice. He moved to his knees, still inside me and I groaned in protest when his weight lifted off me. 

“Wanna see you cum, angel..” He whispered, using his thumb to press and slide over my clit in smooth, little strokes . I could feel my wetness leaking all over the place and I felt my throat go dry when he scooped up the dampness, before tracing the slick wetness all over my nipples and bending low and licking it all off.

“Taste so sweet, my baby...” He whispered, “ Wanna try?”

I barely registered what he said, eyes fluttering shut and I yelped when he lightly flicked my lips.

“Open your mouth..you should taste how good you are...” He grinned wickedly. 

Before i could reply he was already slipping two fingers between my legs, collecting more of the heady slickness. I moaned as he slipped the fingers into my mouth, smearing it all over my tongue , the spicy sweetness foreign and yet arousing against my tongue.  I felt my eyes widen as the taste filled my tongue, making me clench harder around him. 

“Tell me you taste good...” He pulled back and rammed again inside me , is fingers moving back to my hair and gripping tight.

“I.. i taste good..” I stuttered.

He grinned in appreciation and held my hips, swiftly flipping us over till I was on top, his cock slipping out of me because of how wet and messy i was. I struggled to pace myself and yelped when he casually grabbed my hips, lifting me up and bringing me down till I took the entire hard length of him inside. 

“Wait...stop.” He said suddenly and I froze. And then he was sitting up and turning me around making me kneel, facing away from him and i finally noticed the large dresser mirror, right across from the bed. 

I met his gaze through the reflection, swallowing. 

“When I watched you put on make up today, the way you stared at me through the mirror and put me in my place.... I was thinking I should do this.... .stare at you through a mirror someday and put you in  your  place. Didn’t think it would be so soon, baby.” 

I panted as he moved behind me, using his hands to lightly part my thighs. And the he was pushing closer, sliding into me and I gasped, gripping him tighter as he used one hand to fondle my breast while the other wrapped tight around my hip, bracing me for his thrusts. 

It lasted less than two minutes. I came unraveled, my mind exploding in glorious white hot pleasure and his warmth washed inside me, filling me and dripping down my thighs till i fell back against him, boneless and spent .I fell forward on to mattress, my limb jelly and he groaned, draping himself over me. 

“Hope that was sufficiently rough and filthy for you, my dear.” He whispered. 

I could barely think, let alone string words together so i stayed quiet, letting him pull me closer and hold me tight. 

i shifted as he moved to settle his head on my breasts, his arms and legs draping over me while his breath fanned hot and cold against my sweat slicked skin. 

His phone buzzed right next my head and he frowned. 

And then he laughed, turning to show me the screen

 From Jeon Jungkook :

I’m in the next room hyung!! Fucking stop. !!!

 I grinned despite myself.

Good Lord. 

~~~~~~~~~

 Author’s note : 

Ummm...hi?

Guess this isn’t ending in ten chapters fml.

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@bumb1e–bee

Some of you sent me an ask to be tagged but i couldn’t tag you guys...probably because you’ve made your profile private.... So I’m sorry about that.

[gffa]

I swore for about ten entire minutes that I wasn’t going to do a set of recs for THE OLD GUARD, I was just going to watch the movie, indulge in a bit of fanart, and then I would be done. But then I was like HOW ABOUT I HAVE SOME FEELINGS INSTEAD? and here we are. So HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND REASONABLY ANCIENT IMMORTALS AND BABY IMMORTALS.  COME YELL ABOUT FEELINGS WITH ME, FANDOM. THE OLD GUARD RECS: ✦ An Unrecorded History by xpityx, joe/nicky, 1.1k    Joe closed the book and dropped it none too carefully on the table. He would have liked to have thrown it away—to prevent anyone else from reading it—but it was far too easy to make copies of books in these times, so he knew it would be no use. He also could not quite bring himself to discard something as precious as a book, no matter how poorly written it was. ✦ keep yourself alive for me by retts, joe/nicky, NSFW, 1.7k    Nicky grabbed Joe’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, not that there was any resistance from Joe. ‘If I remember correctly, this one has two bathrooms, doesn’t it?’ ✦ let’s give them something to talk about by lacecat, joe/nicky & andy/nile, nsfw, 4.8k    In which Nicky and Joe take liberties with recounting history, because it’s fun. ✦ Family Dinner by dadvans, joe/nicky & nile, 2.4k    The only time Nile ever sleeps a full night and feels remotely part of herself is when she stays with Nicky and Joe, who shampoo brains out of each other’s hair in the shower and clean their guns on the couch watching Chopped reruns. ✦ one burning candle, one wind-whipped flame by Dialux, joe/nicky & andy, 5.1k    Yusuf dies, and dies, and dies, and lives, as well, for a thousand years. Nicolo’s by his side for all of them, and it’s not quite the love story of eternity, but it’s theirs: and that’s enough for them both ✦ Future Days by maroon, joe/nicky & andy/noriko, 2.1k    “Then why untie me?” The man grins, terribly amused, and awfully affectionate. Andromache wants to look away, but for some reason, can’t. Maybe because the look in his eye reminds her of herself, a lifetime ago. “Because my beloved is soft, and kind, and will flay me alive if he’d known I tied up a woman.” ✦ Islands of Hours by RC_McLachlan, joe/nicky, 1.5k    There eventually comes a lull, and so they go to Malta. ✦ take out by j_gabrielle, joe/nicky & nile, ~1k    It probably should bother her when Joe kicks the door to the flat open and promptly marches in to deposit their takeout on the living room table. All while he is tracking half-dried blood and mud on the shiny tile floors. “You, ah,” Nile says even as she hurries to pick through the night’s offerings. “They let you on the subway like that?” ✦ all a smooth plain, and the soil deep by inlovewithnight, andy & nile & joe & nicky, 2.1k    After London, they all need to rest. ✦ we are golden by retts, joe/nicky, ~1k    Joe lowers his gaze to the open page on his lap. The sketch is of a man on a charging horse, hair and beard whipping in the wind, sword in one hand and a shield in the other. The eyes in the drawing are the same eyes watching him now. His Nicolo. 'You were a hard fucker to kill back then, Nicky.’ ✦ An eagle’s old age, a sparrow’s youth by BakedAppleSauce, joe/nicky, 2.2k    Joe comes shuffling back into the room, heavy footsteps that mean he’s either tired, or not really trying, or both. Familiar as breathing. Nicky’d recognize him anywhere, walking among a million of strangers. In which some people are laying low for a while, in more ways than one. ✦ A Most Forgetful Death by RC_McLachlan, joe/nicky, 1.2k    “You’re an incurable romantic,” Nicky says, and though his expression doesn’t so much as twitch, Joe can hear the laughter languishing between the words, can feel it on his tongue and rubbing up against his teeth when Nicky meets him halfway to smear a kiss against his mouth. ✦ Luce e ombre by sheafrotherdon, andy & nile, 1.2k    The discomfort is so new that it startles her, and she searches her memory to remember a time before she was immortal: a time when a cut, a scrape, a bruise hurt for longer than a moment, long enough to interrupt sleep. The memories don’t come ✦ When I Am with You by takethisnight_wrapitaroundme, joe/nicky, NSFW, 5.4k    “You… would like to waste a thousand euros’ worth of champagne by pouring it all over me?” Nicky has to repeat it aloud to make sure he’s heard right. While spending some quality time together on vacation in France, Nicky has a surprise for Joe. And Joe, as it turns out, has a surprise for Nicky. ✦ the common tongue of your loving me by spokenitalics, joe/nicky, NSFW, 1.4k    “It’s just— Do you ever wonder how much we’ve forgotten?” Nicky asks, eventually. “How many names and faces and places have just… faded away from our memory?” ✦ i have loved you for a thousand years by owilde, ~1k    It’s him. Again. Yusuf shields his eyes from the blinding desert sunlight, staring into the near distance where a man is stood, alone, a harsh silhouette cut against the bright blue sky and peach-coloured sand. ✦ this is why by retts, joe/nicky, 1.2k    Small as it was, they had their own room in the London safe house, which was a good thing because Joe was prying open Nicky’s mouth with his fingers. Not with his tongue, much as Nicky would prefer it, but with three calloused fingers sneaking inside his lips as if Nicky wouldn’t wake up from the intrusion. He was on his back, Joe pressed closer to him than his own shadow. The slant of moonlight from the window illuminated Joe’s dark eyes as he bent over Nicky. Joe sucked in the corner of his mouth, a tell that he’d never shaken off all these long centuries. ✦ I Found Peace in Your Violence by j_gabrielle, joe/nicky, 1.5k    5 Times Joe and Nicky kill each other + 1 (of many) times they killed someone together ✦ life is very long by kaydeefalls, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker & quynh & copley, 7.1k    Andromache tells him: “The Greeks used to have seven different words for love. Well. More, probably. But I remember seven.” She shrugs. “There are many ways to love one another, and life is long. We’ve time enough for them all. It’s the only thing that makes it worthwhile.” Nicky and his immortal family, over the centuries. ✦ take a breath by BeStillMySlashyHeart, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 1k    Once they are safe, Nicky and Joe take a moment together. ✦ Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (saellys), andy & nile & joe & nicky, 2.5k    “To the Art Institute of Chicago,” Andy echoes, “so that my breasts may be culturally appreciated in perpetuity.” She tips the bottle and lets out three drops. As they fall to the stone floor, Joe and Nicky rap their knuckles on the nearest pieces of metal: the other lantern for Nicky, the oxidized helmet for Joe. One rap for each drop. In another time, they might have struck their swords on shields. ✦ how we live by retts, joe/nicky, ~1k    Life, though, brings pain. Goddamn pain. Bullets that struck his cranium and pelvis – the big bones in the body – are forced out. The rest went through him, carrying organ tissue and muscle with them. Those lost bits have to be regrown. Bones realign and the ribs in his lungs retract so they can breathe again. So Nicky can breathe again. And when he breathes, he thinks, Yusuf. ✦ Paradeisos by Enneara, joe/nicky, 2.9k    Traveling through Greece with Yusuf after fleeing the Holy Land, Nicolò suffers a crisis of faith. ✦ The Language of Love by 1derspark, joe/nicky & andy/quynh & booker & nile, 4.5k    Or five times Nicky hears Joe speak his language and one time Nicky returns the favor. ✦ Le Vite by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile & booker, 8k    Nicky breathes out. “What did I miss?” he asks, staring out at the hills. “Why didn’t I see this coming?” After everything, after finding Nile and losing Booker and Andy’s new mortality, Joe is pissed off. Nicky is just tired. ✦ The god of my idolatry by Petra, andy/nile, NSFW, 3.4k    “You said you were worshipped as a god.” “I was.” Nile steels herself and asks, “Would you like to do it again?” Andy laughs and throws back the contents of her glass. “They don’t teach you pick-up lines in the Marines, do they.” ✦ love is not over by retts, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 1.3k    'Babe, do you know what this reminds me of?’ asked Nicky. Joe licked his lips and tilted his head to the side, gaze intent on the mole on Nicky’s cheek. 'What?’ 'The first time you drew me.’ ✦ Case Analysis by skeeno, joe/nicky & andy & booker & copley, 3.4k    It’s not totally out of the ordinary for the people Copley meets in his line of work to be extraordinary. But he’s intrigued by these four. ✦ compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R, joe/nicky & andy & quynh, 11.9k    ‘You are a shame to your countrymen and the lowest of the low,’ Yusuf said, ‘and your mother copulated with a dog.’ ✦ Everything in moderation (even moderation) by BakedAppleSauce, joe/nicky, NSFW, 6.1k    The novelty has worn off, of course, but it’s not the novelty that keeps anybody coming back, anyway. Novelty never sustains anything. ✦ What the Water Takes by xpityx, andy & nile & quynh, 1k    Here is a secret she will never write down. ✦ Stracciatella by ScribeofArda, joe/nicky & andy & nile, 4.8k    “None of us have any evidence of the ways we have died,” Nicky continues. “But you remember the fall, don’t you? You remember the first time you died, the way your blood spilled out as your throat was slashed. I remember the first time I died, when the love of my life drew his sword across my neck as I drove mine into his chest and we both fell to the sand.”

[ramp-it-up]

Scene Stealer

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Minors DNI, a little angst, some language, a smidge of jealousy, but mostly just fluff! No smut! 😃 All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs for the Show Runner AU.  I really love these two. Hope you enjoy, Loves! 💚

Read the previous part, Sundancer .

Hi lovely! Idk if your still doing requests right now? If you are can I have a fluffy/soft-ish moment between Rafa and reader? In the Showrunner AU and reader is actively filming a scene and Rafa's being difficult, lol

Your relationship was the talk of the town, especially since you accompanied Rafael on the red carpet of his latest win; it also happened to be your first nomination.

Ever since you went public, you were content with being ‘partners.’ You, especially, said there was no need for anything more. You didn’t want to tie Rafael to you, because you didn’t own him. 

Art was the most important thing, not a conflict diamond and a piece of paper.

Rafael quickly agreed. After all, it had been his manifesto. You two had a perfect understanding. Until you got this role. 

This gig required you to dance, and you hadn’t used your classical training in a while. You were nervous as hell.

“Who does music videos with this big a budget any more?”

You just rolled your eyes as Rafa as he delivered the shade. He would never outright say that he didn’t want you to do it; he always supported you, but you could tell it bothered him.

There was a slight tension in the air in the days leading up to filming, but you both pretended nothing was up. You were busy with rehearsal, so you brushed the thoughts of this shift in your relationship aside.

Maybe he was a little tight because you told him that the singer could definitely get it during a cast party before you two were a thing. Except in Rafael’s mind. 

Rafa had taken mental notes on everything about you, and this one he didn’t forget. But, he loved you, and he was going to ride for you.  Right?

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

On the day of the shoot, Rafa pulled up to the studio at about 1:30. He agreed to meet you there when you invited him for moral support.  You’d been there since 11 am.

He shook his head to himself as he was shown to your dressing room, lamenting the fact that he didn’t bring Diggs, because he would be the one needing moral support today.

Rafael knocked on the door and heard you say, "Come in!"

He walked in and saw you in a big, poofy, but short wedding dress. A more elaborate ballet tutu, but still definitely a wedding dress. Rafael was thrown for a loop, so he just stood there, taking you in.  He felt like he was breaking a rule, looking at you in this dress.

You looked absolutely amazing.

The make up artist was working on you, but you turned around and grinned when you saw him in the mirror.

Rafa felt like he needed to sit down. 

"What do you think?"

Rafael actually couldn't think. He looked down and noticed that you had your pointe shoes on. They matched your skin tone perfectly and extended your lovely legs. 

He began to feel warm, a heat which began in his chest and radiated throughout his entire torso. But he was a thug.  He tried to express it.

"You look beautiful...." 

His throat was dry. What the fuck was wrong with him?

To you, Rafa looked a bit like a fish, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

"What?" You cocked your head at him.

Rafa recovered and moved toward you. ‘Keep your cool,’ he thought.

You  shrugged at him, turned back around to the mirror, and continued. 

"I would never actually wear anything like this. It's too poofy and big. Too princess-y. Not my style." You grimaced.

"You look beautiful." It finally came out.

Rafael smiled, feeling an overwhelming desire to kiss you. The makeup artist exited and Rafa was left staring at you in the mirror again. You were a vision. 

He cleared his throat, deciding to lighten the mood.

"Can I climb under that dress and do what I want to do?"

You threw your head back and laughed. Once again, Rafael was caught in your spell.

"I'm working babe, but we can arrange something later..."

‘Whatever you say, my love,’ Rafael thought. 

But what he said was, "Cool."

--------

When filming started, Rafael stood out of the way behind the camera to watch. It was a church scene and apparently what you had to do was dance down the aisle to the altar for the wedding scene.

You were lowkey checking for Rafa, and everytime you looked over, he was glowering at you, the set up, or back seat directing. You could read him like a book, and he was not amused or positive about this.

That only made you more tense and out of the zone. You began to regret inviting him.  What was his problem? Was he jealous? He was being an ass, and you were going to tell him about himself later.

You ignored him as you stretched to get ready for another take. You were not going to let him ruin this for you.

---------

Rafael saw you and melted. He watched, mesmerized, as you danced toward the star of the video. Rafael’s heart clenched when you reached them and kissed them lightly on the lips. 

It happened at least six times for the different takes and angles, and Rafa had visions of dragging you away from there, but he remained calm.

Rafael had no idea that his emotions were so loud. All pretense, all acting skills, all professionalism went out of the window the moment he saw you in that wedding dress.  

He just did not think this production was up to the standard of you. And he caught on to the interactions between you and the star of the video between takes. It was not cool

You  ran through a couple more takes and finally it was time for the last scene, the love scene.

You were whisked back into your dressing room for a wardrobe change. Rafa paced up and down in the hallway to calm himself down. After a few minutes he thought it worked.

Until you came back out.

You were in the sexiest black nightgown he'd ever seen. And those heels. You looked hot as fuck. But when he looked into your eyes, it was clear that you were terrified. 

"Rafa, I don't think I can do this. I'm not feeling it…” Nerves were getting to you. 

“They are sooo not like I thought they were. They're kind of…. There’s no chemistry. And I’m a hack actor if I can’t do this…”  You bowed your head, ashamed.

Rafa hooked his fingers under your chin and brought your head up. He looked at you sternly. He was angry. But not at you.

“Energy up. Expectations down.” 

You tried to respond with a brave smile, but you were really about to burst into tears. Rafael grabbed your hand and pulled you back into your dressing room. He made sure to lock the door.

You thought you knew what he wanted.

“Rafa, we don’t have time for that, I…”

“C’mere.”  

Rafael hushed you and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his embrace. His large hand was on your lower back, and he held your other to his chest, beginning a slow dance to music only he could hear.  

You looked up at him quizzically and raised your eyebrow.

“Rafa, what…”

“I know that we talked about not seeing the need for marriage in this crazy world, and that we are married to our art, but take a little mind excursion with me…”

You fell into rhythm with him as he began to whisper-sing “Hideaway.” 

…See you’ve had the wrong plan

been sipping the wrong wine

Ay ay… let me put you on my vibe.

“Imagine we’re dancing at our wedding…”

You snapped your head up and looked in his emerald eyes. They twinkled down at you.

“I said, ‘imagine.’ This is just an exercise.”

“I would write a new song just for you and sing it while we’re dancing and get you wet for me but make you wait until after we party all night with our friends to get some.”

He smiled down at you and you were with it, getting into the fantasy. You swayed with him a little longer and smiled back up at him. Rafael’s stomach flipped.

So of course he twirled you away from him and back into his arms. His hand moved down your back to your ass.

“Seeing you in this would be the perfect wedding present. Imagine me waiting on you, not wanting to wait any more to touch you, taste you. Make you a mama.”

You stopped and stared at Rafael.

“….That’s quite the imagination you have there…”

Rafa stared back at you. “I am a creator. I create wild musings.” He turned you around to face the mirror. 

“Use it.” 

He put his hands in your satin covered hips. 

“Pretend you’re a woman who would want that. Marriage. A husband who would cherish you and try to make you happy.” 

Rafael bent down to hug you from behind, pressing his cheek aside yours.

You gazed at your reflections in the mirror. In that moment at least, you were that woman.

Rafael kissed your neck. You closed your eyes and you felt it before you opened them, but when you did, he had stepped away.

“Now go out there and pretend that person is what that woman wants.” Rafael looked at you in that way one more time before he cleared his throat and looked down.

You straightened up and walked toward the door. 

“Thanks for the fantasy, Cash.” You looked back at him.

Rafa winked at you. “Anytime.”

——-

Three hours later, after you’d killed the scene and production had wrapped, Rafa waited for you in the parking lot, smoking and dialing Diggs on the phone.

“Whattup. D. I need you to talk me out of buying a rock.”

--------

Tag List:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch

[doitwritenow]

Supreme Super family gets sucked up into WandaVision(let's imagine Tony's alive in this or is from the multiverse). Ironstrange think they're married with a high school kid. Tony is a science teacher, strange is town doctor, and peter is a regular kid. No memories of they're real life. Rhody, Pepper, and Aunt May and Morgan could be added to this too if you wanted.

OHHO! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this; I had to finish the show, for one thing, and then my brain started going all sorts of places with the prompt... and well. I have on heck of a ramble coming, so buckle up! 

(Also, spoilers through the series, so watch out!) 

— — —

It starts with a question on Vision’s job application.

That’s all. So simple, so innocuous, so innocent. Vision is casually recording information that he doesn’t yet realize he can’t remember, and he arrives at a line that asks his family history. It’s nothing complex, left on the application only because Wanda’s subconscious had glossed over the question. So does Vision’s, as a result. But he wants this job. They want to fit in, and so they answer the question truthfully.

Vision writes ‘Stark’, unaware. ‘Tony Stark.’

And pop. Just like that. 

On the edge of Westview, there suddenly is and has always been a small, well-kept mechanic’s shop. It’s run by an aging man with a bright mind and a brighter smile. He’s lived here since he came back from the war, but no one knows for how long. And he has no memory—no memory at all—of what came before. 

Of the round scar in the center of his chest. 

He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know; he’s just a side character, after all. Just the answer to a line on a job application.

Just so that something, anything, about Vision’s life here isn’t a lie. 

-

Yeah, so Tony gets manifested within the Hex—but because he’s one of Wanda’s creations and not someone being mind-controlled, he is able to exist with agency within Westview. He has no reason, however, to believe anything is amiss; he’s been resurrected only to play a character, and his memories and surface-level motivations only extend to the limits of that character.

But Wanda has other regret. Wanda has other anger and understanding and forgiveness and gratefulness, and she knew Tony Stark, once. 

She knew his worst nightmare—and it’s easy to craft a soul from that, really.

(But it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Tony has no reason to pull down the walls of that hidden spirit. He’s content in his role, just like Vision. So it’s fine. 

… Right?) 

-

Agatha stands at the base of a towering barrier with her hands on her hips. One side of her mouth is quirked up into a considering, scheming smile, and her magic probes out around her curiously. This is the source of the power she’d felt; she’s sure of it. The spell work… the instinctual, unconscious spell work is so intense she can almost taste it.

How is it possible? What’s the secret? 

Agatha must know. And besides; this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her since the seventeenth century. 

She’s about to reach out, about to cross into the heart of the magic, when she hears it. A footstep. Quiet and dark and making no attempt at stealth. 

Agatha grips her magic. “Who’s there?” she demands. 

Someone steps out of the trees. A human, Agatha thinks, though you can never be sure nowadays. He wears a hood of green and his hands are dark where they hang at his sides. 

“Witch,” the figure declares.

Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” says Karl Mordo. “I rather think you can.”

-

Okay, cut to New York. Stephen Strange is exhausted, wrung dry trying to keep the edges of the universe from deteriorating now that the stabilization factors of the Infinity Stones have been destroyed. One task runs into the next, one morning into the night. One future into all the others. 

But Stephen likes the work; it keeps his mind in one place. He’s always alert these days. Always listening. 

So when someone calls out to him from New Jersey, he can hear.

It’s Mordo luring him in, of course, but he doesn’t know that yet. After Dormammu, and certainly after all those futures, Stephen has too much experience for Mordo to hope to get the better of. The old Master is still dedicated to his ‘too many sorcerers’ shebangerang, though, so he’s employed help. Maybe he can kill two birds with one stone. Two world-threateningly powerful magic users with one stone. 

Stephen follows the call, because of course he does. It sounds like a call for help; what else is he supposed to do? The kelpie situation in the Thames can wait. Wong waves him off, tells him to be careful without much hope of Stephen listening, and takes over the Sanctum for the few hours Stephen intends to be gone.

(It’s not for a few hours.)

-

But there’s someone else we should mention before we see what Westview has planned for Stephen. See, a certain spider-kid has just had his identity outed, and his only allies once called themselves Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill, Peter discovers, are not Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

“You’re aliens?” Peter demands, his hands warding the space in front of him. 

Of course they’re aliens, part of him sighs. Of course. Why wouldn’t one more thing just go crazy in his life? Why let him remember what ‘normal’ even felt like? Why the hell not? 

“Er, yes,” says not-Fury. “My name is Talos. But we do still want to help you.”

Helping Peter doesn’t go according to plan. See, the Skrull try to approach SWORD for Monica Rambaeu’s help regarding the kid who saved their lives, but Monica has disappeared. 

Talos only turns around for two seconds. Really, it’s only a moment. But when he turns back, Peter Parker has disappeared, too.

-

“Woah.” 

Stephen stops, a hand coming up to shield his third eye as he squints into the absolute maelstrom of power swirling in a hexagonal wall in front of him. It doesn’t feel like the Order’s magic—not like something of the Mystic Arts. It’s something far more human and gritty. Stephen’s perception can’t extend through it. He frowns.

He takes a step forward, the Cloak swirling around his ankles, and begins to stitch his mental walls into place. His wards are strong, even unconsciously.

That’s probably what saves him, in all honesty. 

Two strong, human hands plant themselves in the small of Stephen’s back and shove him into the barrier. Stephen opens his mouth to yell, raises his hands to cast a spell— but blue and red are surrounding him now. Devouring him, now. They lick at his mind, slamming against unbreakable walls.

But they are unbreakable too. 

Stephen disappears. 

-

(Mordo used a portal to get behind him and knock him into the Hex, btw.) 

It’s those hasty mental walls that keep Stephen from being completely consumed into the Westview spells. He is not fully mind-controlled, nor is he left half-animated and frozen like most people near Ellis Avenue. But there is one main rule of Wanda Maximoff’s Westview, and that, Stephen can’t escape completely. 

‘No one remembers outside.’

Stephen doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything at all. 

-

Tony Stark finds the man lying on the side of the road. He’s just finished dropping his kid Peter off at the Westview high school (it hasn’t occurred to him that it’s weird how he never sees the boy’s classmates. Or that Peter never seems to have stories from school. Or that the kid is always waiting in the exact same place that Tony dropped him off at whenever Tony comes to pick him up. Tony has no reason to think too hard; he’s just a side character—right?). 

“Uh, hi?” Tony pauses, the car puffing it’s irritation when he stops it too quickly. He cranks down the window and leans out. 

The man blinks, slowly, at the sky. He sits up hesitantly, like he hasn’t noticed Tony, and rubs his hand across his face. He pulls it away after a moment and frowns at it. Tony wonders why he looks so confused—it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the man’s hand. No scars or anything. 

“Hi, sir,” Tony says again. “Are you alright?”

The man jumps. He looks over at Tony—and there’s something weird about his eyes. Something… really weird. (Color, says a voice in the back of his mind that he hasn’t heard for a very, very long time. That’s color.)

“Who are you?” Tony asks. He parks the car completely now. 

The man looks down at his hands again. “I’m—” he begins. He’s frowning again.

“Come on now,” Tony encourages. “How hard can it be?”

The man tugs at the scarf around his neck—and it must be windier than Tony thought, because the edges of it are swaying as if of their own accord— and swallows. 

“I don’t know,” he says.

-

So of course Tony brings Stephen back with him. He prods at the man until Stephen manages to blurt out ‘Doctor Stephen Strange’ for no reason either of them can remember. But it makes Stephen relax, a little, to have it on his tongue. 

Tony catches Stephen staring at him after that. A lot. When he asks him why, Stephen has no clear answer; just a vague “you remind me of someone.” For Stephen’s part, all he knows is that seeing Tony gives him an indistinct sense of relief. Like he’d been missing someone deeply, and has now found it again. 

Still. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Just like he can’t quite put his finger on why his hands don’t hurt when he tries to write…

-

Vision visits Tony, sometimes, whenever he remembers, or whenever someone in the town mentions the old mechanic. He brings Wanda. They have fun, but Vision always goes home feeling slightly baffled. And Tony always feels like something hurts, deep in the center of his chest. 

Vision likes his adopted younger brother. (And Peter gets along just fine with the twins, too, when they come along, so Wanda doesn’t change anything about it). But when the man with the bright eyes stares at him with just a bit too much calculation on his face, Vision starts to be reminded of… things. Of suspicions. Of Geraldine and how she had no home and no history. And he doesn’t quite look Wanda in the eye that dinner. 

“What do you do?” Wanda asks, her voice a little hard, a little suspicious. Vision tries not to wince. Whatever it is she’s not telling him, this man at his father’s dinner table reminds her of it. 

Tony flips his fork, balancing it like one might a wrench. “Stephen’s a doctor,” he says.  

Wanda’s face flickers. “That’s funny,” she says blankly. “Because no one in this town ever needs one.” 

-

For a while, Tony Stark didn’t see anything amiss here. He was created, was consistent, was emptily and vaguely pleased. But Tony Stark is Tony Stark, whatever character he’s been told to play. Tony Stark wants to help people. 

And this man, this strange doctor with the eyes that would sometimes go blank for long minutes and the tears that would stain sharp cheeks for a reason he claimed not to remember, needs help.

So Tony Stark begins to scratch at Wanda’s walls. 

-

 “What do you mean he’s here?”

“I mean your little plan didn’t work,” Agatha says. She stands on the edge of Westview, speaking through a mirror of magic to the man outside. She’s liking this sorcerer less and less the more she works with him—but he has been rather helpful so far, so she continues to put up with him. 

“Does he remember?”

“No,” Agatha says. “The dad that Wanda made up for Vision has taken him in. It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

“Hm.” Mordo’s mouth twists. “You’ll finish the job?”

Agatha shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure. When I get around to it.”

“You don’t want to wait. Deal with Strange now, before he remembers how to be a threat.”

Agatha laughs. It’s brittle, fully conveying her hostility. “Ha, my good sorcerer, listen. Unless you want to come in here and do the job yourself, you’ll let me handle this my way.”

Agatha’s way involves getting to the bottom of things, of course. And that’s rather convenient… because Vision has begun to try to do the same thing. 

— — — —

Okay that’s all I have for now? The other bits are still solidifying in my mind, and it’s basically all Horrible Angst. I hope this scratches a little of the itch of your ask, though! Feel free, anyone, to add onto this if you’d like! I really enjoyed the show, and I think it has some really awesome AU potential. 

Thanks for the ask!!!

[robin-josephette-biden]

A Statement Through Horror: BDG and YouTube

In his video announcing his departure from Polygon Bryan David Gilbert [BDG] stated, “I want to make things that one day people will make a show like unraveled about.” [Paraphrasing here]. Since that announcement he has made some of the most interesting and engaging comedy videos on the platform. On Bryan’s channel, there is a section called “bdg’s scaries” that contains three videos. The first how to make jorts was released April 27, 2019 and will not be part of this analysis, as we are focused on the other two videos. These two videos are Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss which was released on October 25, 2020 (two months before his final Unraveled video and departure from Polygon) and Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97 which was posted March 3, 2021. If you have not seen these videos yet you should stop reading immediately and go watch them both (honestly everything on his channel is amazing, especially the surprisingly compelling and personal Dances Moving! series) before continuing to read this as I will be spoiling both of them. The position of YouTube celebrity has been the source of a good bit of commentary as short form online media has become more and more central in our culture. Bryan has created two videos that I feel do an excellent job of exploring the relationship between youtuber and audience. I should also point out that this is merely my interpretation of these videos and is in no way BDG’s intended message. I’ll start by going over the first video. Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss opens with BDG outside an apartment building, standing in front of a black car. BDG points up at one of the windows and says, “Three years ago I was living in that apartment right there. Third floor, leaky windows, cockroaches, the worst.” I do not know if the real life BDG actually lived in that building, but the 3 years timeframe does line up neatly with his beginning to work at Polygon. BDG continues to bad mouth his old apartment and mentions how he has turned it all around stating, “But just last week I paid off my very first Subaru Impreza. And I own my own house in Nebraska.” This radical change in life-style he credits to, “. . . [working] from home, [making] my own hours, and [being] my own boss. And you can do it too.” I think that it is interesting that BDG’s career up to that point mirrors that of his character, going from newly graduated content creator making small videos in his apartment to one of the most popular creators on Polygon. And all that being accomplished through work that many (rightly or wrongly) would not see as fitting into the mold of the traditional 9 to 5. The idea of making millions working from home, at your own pace, and with no boss is intrinsically tied to the mystique of the YouTube celebrity. Moving into BDG’s office he explains that he makes $20k a month working on spreadsheets. A massive spreadsheet appears behind him that is dated, 01.12.88 (nothing of note happened on January 12, 1988 and the only thing that happened on December 1, 1988 is a large cyclone that struck Bangladesh, January 12, 1888 is the day of the Schoolhouse Blizzard which struck the midwestern US and killed 235 people (remember this for later)) and is filled, seemingly randomly, with garbled nonsense symbols. Many of the cells are the same as other cells and there are empty cells scattered haphazardly throughout the spreadsheet. BDG explains that he got this strategy from Dorian Smiles. In exchange for working on these spreadsheets BDG receives $10k - $20k a month (an amount that lines up pretty damn well with the amount he should be getting through his Patreon page currently, I don’t know if this was true when the video was made though) from Dorian. Wanting to know where the money is coming from BDG asks his bank and they explain that he is wiring the money to himself from another account he has. He grows confused as to the nature of this work and the disproportionately large amount of money it brings in, explicitly mentioning his confusion as to how the money is coming from someone with, “. . . my name and my voice.” and sets about to find and confront Dorian Smiles. BDG sets off for Center Nebraska, which is close to where Dorian lives (a small town in the northeast corner of Nebraska). He states that Dorian’s address hasn’t existed since 1888 (that’s a familiar year isn’t it?) when it was supposedly condemned during an enormous blizzard and is, “. . . just woods now.” The video then transitions to BDG walking through dark woods while his narration talking up the Dorian Smiles program continues becoming increasingly broken. He comes across a figure sitting in the woods that is convulsing strangely, when he calls out to it the figure turns and is him (heretofore named Dorian). Dorian slowly puts his hands over his nose and mouth while staring at BDG at which point the narration cuts out. BDG copies Dorian and when Dorian removes his hands in a flourish, BDG does the same to reveal that he no longer has a mouth. The video quickly cuts back to BDG in his office talking about the program, he asks the viewer, “Why don’t you join me?” and then sits back and smiles while that line repeats without him moving his mouth. The most pressing mystery is who Dorian Smiles is. I think the most likely answer (and one I know I am not the progenitor of) is that Dorian is a reference to The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde, the story of a young man that has a portrait that ages and takes on the ravages of the debauched life its subject lives while Dorian himself does not. BDG would therefore be the unwitting recipient of that blessing, reaping massive rewards while his double, Dorian, lives in poverty and solitude. I like this explanation for Dorian, but I find it to be far more mechanical than thematic. On a metatextual level you could read that Dorian represents the character of BDG. The person that is in all of BDG’s videos, and the one with whom so much of the audience forms a parasocial relationship. In this lens the parallels with BDG’s own life make more sense. By this point in BDG’s career it is not difficult to imagine him feeling stifled creatively at work (I feel comfortable saying this given how soon after this video came out that he departed Polygon). His character had grown too large, potentially becoming alien to him, no longer reflecting the art he wanted to make and so he made a video about a distorted version of himself stealing his voice. In this way the video becomes a statement on his artistic integrity and his desire to test new boundaries and go in different directions. In hindsight, with the knowledge of his departure and then success after leaving Polygon, the video becomes almost heartwarming (if it weren’t terrifying) in the same way that a before and after picture of someone improving themselves can be. We will return to the Dorian Smiles system, but now we must move to the second video, Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97. I’ll save you the blow by blow breakdown and aim for a quick summary instead. This video is a simple stationary shot of an old CRT tv. A VHS tape is inserted and a video of a man teaching his, evidently young, son how to use a camcorder plays. It is relatively wholesome and corny in that way that all home movies are and when it ends the tape rewinds and the segment plays again, this time with a few deviations. Over replays the father becomes aware of what is happening and begins trying to reason with Jake through the camcorder begging him to stop watching the tape and move on. The father is menaced by a large shadowy figure that does not speak or move when confronted. Eventually the father resorts to simply taking the camera and recording his own screams of pain. On the final rewind the father simply says, “Attaboy.” before calmly walking out the room and into the dark hallway, a doorway opens at the other end, filled with orange light, and the father walks through and down stairs. The final shot of the video is of the television, showing the hallway, as orange light begins to flicker in the background of the left side of the TV. The sound of the father descending the stairs transitions from the TV to diegetic and a shadow appears briefly in the light. On one level the video is clearly a statement about loss and about trauma. Jake is losing himself by watching these videos on repeat, trying in vain to relive a happier time. In that desperate desire to regain what was lost he is distorting it, making it into something it isn’t, hurting it. At the beginning the father says, “Never ever press the rewind button, otherwise you might record over a precious memory. We always keep the recording going forward . . .“ I think there is an additional, and more personal for BDG, reading however. The father is the modern character of BDG, and we, the audience, are Jake. He is pleading with us to leave the past behind and move on. This was only his 3rd video that he posted after leaving Polygon. It is a plea from him to leave the old character behind and stop trying to make one into the other. To stop obsessively comparing the new videos to the old. To let the future be the future and let the past be the past. He is telling us that his new work will not be like the old, that he has progressed past that and that now his viewers need to as well. The detachment and confusion of Earn $20K EVERY MONTH by being your own boss has transformed into a desire to move forward. But he needed to ensure that his audience was ready to come with him, and so he made a video about loss and the dangers of sinking too far into it. I know that there are some of you that feel I am reading too much of what I assume to be BDG’s thoughts and emotions into these interpretations, and I am the first to admit that I might be. In no way am I trying to say these are the only interpretations of these videos or even that they are correct. I think there is so much more of an artist that they put into their work than they realise. I do not know the mind of BDG, only he does, but these videos made me feel that I had a glimpse into the feelings of a man whose work I admire. These videos are either longer or a drastically different tone to the material he has put on his own channel and as such they stood out to me. They felt different, and they seemed to ask for a different level of scrutiny. On some level maybe BDGs videos can not be divorced from the story of BDG as a content creator, the same as any modern internet semi-celebrity, or indeed any artist. I guess there was also a part of me that wanted to answer the call to action I heard when BDG left Polygon, to unravel his work. I hope in some small way I’ve been able to do that.

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

[harryspet]

dimensions | peter parker

[Warnings] peter parker x reader, dark peter x reader, historical au, royal au, prince Peter, mentions of noncon sex, physical abuse, spanking, alternate dimensions, fluff, hella angst, alternate peter is basically ramsay bolton

A/N: This is an angsty idea from an anon “Angst thought: Peter's got a girlfriend he super likes but she gets switched with an alternate dimension's version of her who alternate him was the worst to (like one of your dark Peter fics bad) and she's terrified of Peter now”. I decided to make this like a historical au but it can basically take place at anytime in history.

THIS CONTAINS TRIGGERING MATERIAL AND ADULT CONTENT

main masterlist

word count: 2.7k

Wine dripped from his lips as Peter stared at you like a hungry wolf. What a beautiful prey you were. He was so lucky that he had decided not to kill you like the rest of your family. 

The kingdom you came from was made of sunlight. Sun dripped from the sun and kissed the skin of your people. You were a peaceful people. You had never seen war until you came to know Lord Parker. 

In Lord Parker’s part of the world, there was no sun at all. His fortress sat on a hill between a dark forest and a storm-ridden sea. His followers were loyal but this was because the family ruled with fear. They conquered and pillaged for power and your kingdom was just another line on his roster. 

You were nothing to him. Nothing except a toy. 

You scrambled backward, your back hitting the headboard of the bed you shared with him. Peter’s eyes trailed over the bare skin of your legs and up to the white nightgown you wore. He loved you in white, the contrast to your skin, and the innocence it represented. 

No matter how he tried to beat it out of you, that innocence was still there. 

Peter pulled the sheets all the way back and your body began to tremble, “My sweeting,” His words were kind but his intentions were anything but. He had his claws around your heart and you felt any wrong move would lead to him ripping it from your chest, “I recall informing you that you should refrain from speaking to my servants.”

Nothing. There were no words on your lips. 

Had Peter already diminished your fire? He thought he had mastered the art of pushing you all the way to the edge but not allowing you to fall over. 

The room was filled with grays and black, the only light in the room came from a few candles in the corner. You could hear the waves beating against the cliffs from outside the window. You let the cold hit your skin, allowing you to feel something other than sadness. 

Peter’s hands touched the mattress as his body leaned in closer, “You want to run from me, do you not?” You were frozen now. He cocked his head to the side, an evil grin decorating his handsome face, “That is why you asked your guard to help you escape. You thought he might take pity on you? Do you think the honey between your legs is that sweet? That any man would risk their lives just to taste it?”

Breathe, you had to remind yourself. Why had you done that? You should’ve known not to trust anyone. Anyone including those with sweet, forgiving eyes. 

Peter sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the large mattress. You recalled the memories of the last few nights. On your wedding night, he had forced himself inside of you with a force you couldn’t bear. You still ached between your legs. 

“I do try to be good to you. I try to be a good husband but … it seems the Gods have cursed me with anger …and your behavior lights that flame inside of me. Is it so much to ask that you be honest with me? To tell me what I hear is not true?”

Nothing. Again, no words escaped your trembling lip. Peter was starting to grow annoyed. He liked it better when you were screaming. 

“Answer me!” He screamed, causing you to hit your head against the wood as you flinched back, “You dare run behind my back!” Peter pounced, unable to resist the sweet touch of your trembling flesh. You resisted, but that only made the member in his trousers grow even more excited. 

Peter dragged you by the curls in your hair, forcing you to scramble forward until you were positioned across his lap. 

“My lord, please! Please, don’t!”

Peter smiled wide as he held you down, his elbow pressing into your back. “There she is! I knew my sweet princess was a fighter,” He pulled up the skirt of your dress, revealing your bare bottom. He could still see the evidence he left behind hours ago dripping down your thighs, “Continue to scream for me, my sweeting. I do enjoy your voice.”

You cried out, trying to wiggle from his grasp, as he landed several hard spanks to your bottom. You could feel it turning colors beneath his touch, the burning pain flowed through your body, “Please, please, I won’t do it again!” You begged, “I’ll be good!”

He didn’t stop until your bottom was raw and his own hand was bleeding. Tears streamed down your tired face, a complete look of defeat crossed your features, and ultimately satisfied Peter. 

“What is your name?”

You didn’t even remember anymore, “Nothing. N-No one. I am nothing but yours, My Lord.”

He dragged you from the bed though every step you took was like feeling fire against your skin. 

“No ones coming to save you!” Peter shouted as he dragged you out of the room, past your guards, and to the outside balcony that overlooked the entire fortress. Everyone was used to causing the scene with his cruelty so no one even batted an eyelash as you were pulled around like a ragdoll. 

He pressed you against the wooden railing, making you look out into the snow-covered court. The snow that was now soaked in blood. He was in pieces but you recognized him. It was the young guard you had talked to you. Stupidly, you asked him when the guards normally changed shifts in the compound. 

His legs were separated as well as each of his arms and then …. his head. His eyes were still open. “We cut off the head last,” As you closed your eyes, he pulled at your hair tightly, “He learned what happens when you try to steal my treasure. Treasure I bravely sought and retrieved on my own.”

It was all your fault. 

He was gone before Peter even stepped into that room. 

Your body was only protecting itself by shutting down and causing you to faint. Peter caught you as you fell into his arms.  

+

You awoke on a soft cloud. Everything smelt of sweet vanilla, even your hair. You touched your hair and found it longer and much softer than usual. Your eyes could barely adjust to the blinding light in the room. When were thing’s ever this bright on Lord Parker’s land?

Had he finally set the place ablaze with you trapped inside? The thought of it was delightful. You even considered closing your eyes again but, the room you were in, gave off an entirely different feeling than the fortress. 

You sat up in the bed and your mouth gaped as you took a look around. You stumbled as you stood up on the bed. The room was ginormous, even bigger than the over-sized bed. It reminded you of the great hall in the manor you grew up in … except it was a bedroom made of gold. 

You looked down at your body. This was not the white gown you were last wearing. There were no stains of blood or tears down the chest. There was also no burning on your skin, on your bottom or around your neck. 

You paused as the tall gold doors opened to the room. You stared as he entered, clad in a royal suit of blue, and wearing a smile. A smile? You had never seen him with a real smile, “Did you use to jump on the bed when you were younger?” He asked a tone you weren’t quite used to. It sounded pleasant, like there was happiness on his lips, “That was my favorite too.”

Had he slipped hallucinogens into your drink? Or was this just a nightmare of your own creation?

As he moved closer to the bed, you panicked, moving down to your knees, “M-My Lord,” You addressed him, your head tilted down. 

Peter paused, taking in your appearance, and his smile turned to concern, “Your Lord?” Peter asked softly, moving towards you. He reached for your hand and, although you didn’t pull away, he felt you shaking, “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You lifted your head, facing the demon, “W-Who is Y/N?” Peter searched your face for some symbol of amusement. He thought you might be pulling a prank on him but it was now clear that something was very wrong, “Where did you take me?”

Peter pulled away his hand, realizing he was only causing more unease, “I didn’t take you anywhere. This is my home. Our home. Should I call in the physician ...”

“We don’t live here …” You looked around the large room again.

“Y/N, do you promise me that this is not some sort of game?”

You shook your head quickly, “No games, My Lord.”

“My name is Peter. I am not your Lord …” Peter’s voice trailed off, his mind racing with concerned thoughts and confusion. Peter beckoned you with his hand, “Why don’t you come with me, Y/N? We will have a talk with May.”

A trick. This had to be some elaborate trick then. 

“I only talk to you, My Lord,” You assured him, “I won’t speak to anyone else, I promise.”

His eyes seemed to sadden. Sad? You’d only seen anger from him before, “Y/N, you can talk to other people. I am your husband but I do not control you. You have friends. You have a family.”

A sick joke then. You stared at him dumbfounded, before shaking your head, “You killed them. They were not worthy. You spared me despite my unworthiness.”

“I-I never-” Peter stopped himself, realizing that it was becoming useless to argue at the moment. You seemed to flinch at the slightest raise in his voice, “Walk with me, please?”

You were hesitant but you crawled from the bed, your bare feet touching the cool, marble floor. The fortress was grays and black. The fortress was soot and wood. This was a palace and the man before you were dressed like a prince. 

Peter noticed the distance you kept from it. Yesterday, you were madly in love with him. You held each other through every royal meeting and you spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms. He remembered how nervous he was when Tony announced the plans for his marriage but, the moment he saw you, he realized his luck. He was even luckier that you felt the same. 

You glanced around the long hallways with tall white walls and ginormous windows that gave a view of the sun over a calm sea. 

“What city is this?”

As the name of the city left his lips, your heart stopped. It was the same city you were kidnapped and taken to but you saw no sign of the darkness that you remembered. Had the darkness all been a bad dream?

+

The woman named May attempted to explain everything to you. She noticed your uneasiness around Peter and kindly asked to have a moment alone with you. You were frightened to speak out of turn, for fear of Peter punishing you, but the woman encouraged you to talk to her. 

She knew all about the kingdom you hailed from, about your family and your peaceful people. They were all alive, Peter’s forces never led an attack against them. In fact, your father and King Tony arranged the marriage between you two. Peter was a Prince. The prince of a kingdom that did not wage war against innocents.

She checked your vitals, not noticing anything that was physically wrong with you. You didn’t even have the scars anymore.

Despite all of this, the thing that made everything sink in was seeing your family. Both your mother and older brother had not returned back to your kingdom, and you were able to embrace them after believing you had lost them forever. 

+

Peter wasn’t sure what to think of everything. So much had changed that he wasn’t sure if he was looking at the same girl anymore. He didn’t want to be a villain to his own wife. He regretted that the bond that they now shared was indestructible. To divorce was a sin and they’d both be shamed by their countries. 

“I can find somewhere else to sleep tonight …” You looked up to Peter, seeing how he was trying to hide his sadness. Your chambermaids had prepared you for bed, bathed you, and put you into fresh nightclothes made of the softest silks. 

“It is your room,” You told him quickly, “I should not deprive you of the comfort … the comfort of sleeping next to your own wife.”

“I can tell you do not want me to, my love,” His words made your heart pang. Love. Did Peter love you? At least, did he love the old you? “I will allow you to have all the time that you need. I do not wish to be the source of your nightmares.”

Peter had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to change that fear she felt. 

“Please stay,” You told him as he made a move to leave, “I do not want to be alone.”

You had spent the entire day with your family, and now you just didn’t want to fall asleep in the silence. 

Peter thought for a moment, deciding his plan of action. You couldn’t help that your breath caught in your throat as he approached where you laid on the bed. He didn’t reach to touch you, only to grab a pillow. 

He laid it on the ground beside the massive bed and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the hard floor. You rolled over in the bed, looking over the edge at him, “The floor is no place for a prince, your grace.”

Peter instantly shook his head, “I do not know what you mean, my love. It feels great down here,” You could tell her was lying and a small grin pulled at your lips. He was willing to sleep on the floor just so you could be comfortable?

“Peter?”

Peter couldn’t help how his heart fluttered when you simply called him by his first name. He liked knowing before that you liked him as a person, not as an authority figure. 

“Yes, Y/N?”

“What kind of things did I use to like?”

Peter didn’t expect the question, but as the memories rushed, he couldn’t help but smile, “You loved your family. You always talked about them, about your people. You wanted everyone to know that you were a princess of two, great kingdoms, not just my own. You made sure they were never forgotten.”

You continued to listen as you pictured it. You hadn’t realized they were memories of your own. 

“You liked to garden. It reminds you of your time with your grandmother. You love the life you can create, the beauty you can make.”

A tear slipped down your face as you remembered the older woman. 

“You liked it when we went out on the boat and rode in the bay. You liked the sound of the ocean and the sun on the skin. You hated that we kept the fish we caught. You hated how they had to die and you insisted that we give them to beggars on the street.”

You realized that this wasn’t some past you that Peter was talking about. The girl he was talking about was still you. She just had a better chance at life. 

“You loved looking at the stars. You smiled for days when I showed you the telescope my father purchased from that French merchant, I swear it.”

“Peter, I-I am sorry,” Peter noticed you were crying and shot up from his spot, reaching to hold your hand, “You are nothing like him. You are nothing like him.”

“Do not cry, please,” Peter begged, rubbing soothing circles on your skin, “There is nothing to apologize for. Whatever this is, we will get through it.”

As his thumb brushed the tear from your cheek, you saw him clearly. You could look into those brown eyes and know he’d never hurt you. 

+

Hope you enjoyed! (Also sorry, please don’t ask for a second part)