#I just watched Back To The Future Part III. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eternal-evergreens · 2 months ago

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｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - III"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Drugging, Attempted Kidnapping, Stalking

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

No, no. Not happening. Never.

You need money. But you won’t get it through unscrupulous means. You still have your morals, and you’ll abide by them. That’s why you saved Kylar. That’s why you’d save him again, should it happen in the future.

You push the thought out of your mind and exit the temple. As you pass by Danube Street, a thought hits you.

The spa. Why haven’t you been working at the spa?

It’s not really an early-game option due to the stat checks required, but those shouldn’t be a problem for you. With your hand skill at C by default and your beauty over the max, working as a masseur is as simple as walking up and asking for work.

You head over and ask for work, and the lady at the front desk takes one look at your hands and gasps. Her bored demeanor quickly melts away into an excited one as she quickly shows you the ropes. You get the basics down pretty quickly and soon take your first client, a trim woman who looks to be in her early 30s.

“Hello, I’ve not done this before. Do I just lie down?” That makes two of us, you think to yourself.

“That’s right! Just lie down, and I’ll take care of the rest,” you say, smiling. The trim woman seems reassured and quickly lies down on the table. You get to work on her shoulders and neck first, cautiously looking for knots and tension as you knead her muscles. The woman relaxes under your touch and begins to make small talk. She tells you about her family, how her kids are both bright young boys, and her husband brings her flowers every month. She seems really happy. -Trauma -Stress

She leaves you a tip. You make £75.

Your next client is less friendly, but you manage to massage her without incident. She leaves you a tip. You make £80 and decide to take a break, feeling a little worn out from standing on your feet for nearly two hours straight. After fifteen minutes, you get up and head back into the spa, where you take on another two clients. They both leave tips, and you make £120. The spa closes after that, and you head outside.

Someone throws a water balloon at you from a nearby car, soaking your shirt and leaving it near-invisible. You hear cheers as they speed away, leaving you soaked out in the open. +Stress

You look around, but luckily, no one is around to see your predicament. You cover yourself with your arms as best as you can and head home. You take the alleys to avoid passersby seeing you, walking quickly in hopes of getting home sooner. You don’t watch where you’re going and end up walking right into someone.

“Watch where you’re going, you—!” You look up, about to apologize, when you see icy blue eyes staring back at you. It’s Whitney, his face, only inches from yours, changes from anger to a smug smile.”Well, what do we have here? A slut all out on her own?” Whitney’s friends giggle.

“Why is she walking around so exposed?” One delinquent asks. “Is she a pervert?” They giggle, crowding around you.

“I wanna get a picture!” Soon, all the delinquents are pulling out their phones. Suddenly torn between the desire to cover your face and your chest, you end up hiding behind the thing closest to you, which ends up being Whitney. He seems taken aback but soon wraps an arm around you protectively. +Love

“Fuck off,” he says, arm still around your waist. “Get your own slut.” The others seem disappointed but comply regardless. When everyone’s phone has been put away, Whitney releases you and shrugs off his jacket.

“Can’t fuck a sick person,” he says, throwing his jacket over you. “Make sure to give it back. Now fuck off.” He shoves you out of the alleyway, leaving you stunned. Did that really just happen?

You check your phone.

Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Fascination: 50% Love: 5% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100%

You walk home with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. It smells like smoke.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £729 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

After waking up and finishing your morning routine, you go to Robin’s room and play video games with him for an hour. Some of the games remind you of those you used to play back home. +Love -Trauma +Stress

“It’s almost time for school,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?” You smile and nod. Robin stands up from the bed and puts his controller away. He holds the door open for you as you leave, and you notice a faint blush on his cheeks as you pass. You swear you saw him glance down. +Lust

You’re suddenly reminded that you’re in a yandere game and that Robin is a target character. ++Stress

You grimace as you round a corner and resist the urge to cover your butt as Robin walks behind you. Your skirt is so short he can probably see your underwear as you walk. +++Stress

You see Bailey holding a mousy girl by the arms, a bundle of rope in his other hand.

“You owe me £200 this week,” he says. The girl is holding back tears but still manages to keep a strong look about her. Robin looks away. The other orphans do the same. They all look…resigned. You step forward.

“I’ll pay,” you say. “Let her go.” Bailey raises an eyebrow but releases the girl. You hand over the £200 without fuss. It’s only after parting with the money that you remember you could have just pepper-sprayed him and gained some catharsis. You don’t really need to be stingy with it, after all. Bailey counts the money and leaves, leaving the mousy girl to dust herself off.

“Thank you,” the mousy girl says. “I was really scared.”

“Will you be okay?” You ask her. She nods. She seems genuinely okay.

“Yes, thanks to you. I promise I’ll pay you back for this,” she says, running off.

“You don’t have to!” You call out after her, but she’s already gone.

You did a good thing today. -Trauma -Stress

“That was really impressive,” Robin says. “It’s not often people stand up to Bailey.” You shrug, and Robin cracks a smile. +Love

You and Robin chat on the way to school, mostly about the games you played earlier. There’s a certain glint in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. You have to suppress a shiver every time you accidentally meet his gaze. +Stress

“I just don’t understand why they’d make a tutorial so difficult,” Robin says, shaking his head. “Maybe-” He’s cut off by something, eyes widening. You follow his gaze and see two hooded figures approaching rapidly from the alleyway you just passed. You reach for your pepper spray as the figures get closer, unhooking it from its keychain and holding it at the ready.

“It’s her,” one says. You waste no time and spray them both, then grab Robin’s arm and sprint to safety with him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Crime (Assault) +Stress +Fatigue

You don’t stop running until you reach the school gates and are safely behind them. You and Robin pant heavily as you struggle to come down from the adrenaline.

“Where did you get that?!” Robin whisper-yells.

“A kid in my English class makes them,” you say at a normal volume. Robin’s look of concern only grows, and he spends a few minutes lecturing you on the dangers and illegalities of pepper spray. You mostly tune him out.

The bell rings, finally putting an end to Robin’s monologue, and you head to class. You focus on the lesson, and Sirris calls you up to the front of the class. A student uses a ruler to flash your panties to everyone. To make matters worse, Sirris wanted you to undress for the demonstration. You comply, feeling humiliated as the class leers at your body. +++Stress

The bell rings, and you rush out of the classroom. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you walk. Your ears are ringing, your heartbeat is too loud, the world is spinning, and—

It’s all too much for you. You pass out.

—————————

It is Thursday, the 8th of September, 2022. -It has been 4 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You wake up with something soft yet firm under your head and Sydney right above you.

“You’re awake!” He says. “I was worried. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I brought you back to the library.”

“Not the nurse?” You say, getting up. You realize that you’ve been lying on Sydney’s lap. Sydney looks sheepish.

“I didn’t think of that,” he says, not meeting your gaze. He looks genuine, but you get the feeling he’s not being honest. +Awareness

Sydney insists you stay with him for another ten minutes so he can monitor your condition. When you ask about going to the nurse again he makes an excuse of not knowing if you’re good to walk. You decide not to push it any further and spend the next ten minutes chatting with Sydney. When the ten minutes are up, he looks hesitant to let you go but relents regardless. +Love +Lust -Sydney’s purity

By the time you leave, it’s already lunch. You missed two classes. ++Deliquency

Feeling stressed from everything, you decide to sit alone in hopes of relaxing. You should have known better, however, as a group of students soon come by to make your day harder. The second they start jeering at you, you unhook your pepper spray and blast them all in the face. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

The students are screaming and hurling insults, but the ringing in your ears makes it impossible to hear them. You finish your lunch in silence.

You spend the rest of school zoning out, hoping your stress will subside. It works, kind of.

You have detention, but you don’t feel like going. Considering all the shit you pulled today, Leighton is probably going to take off your clothes and smack you or something. You don’t have good enough grades to know where the tunnel from school is, so you walk out the front. Leighton tries to stop you, but you pepper spray him. ++Crime (Assault) ++Delinquency +Status

A group of students say they’re going to the lake. You could use a change of scenery.

You join them. +Status

Hanging out at the lake is fun enough. No one tries to grope you after what happened at lunch, so you end up having a somewhat enjoyable time.

Then they start bullying another student, who thankfully isn’t here to listen to them shit-talking them, and what little fun you were having quickly melts away. You stand up and walk away, deciding to go for a swim instead. You think about retrieving the lichen for your science project but push the thought out of your mind.

You swim for about an hour, and when you exit the water, the sun is already beginning to set. Your fellow classmates are still hanging out, but you don’t really feel like joining them, so you put on your clothes and go for a walk, planning to head back after you’re done.

You hear a bullet firing from afar. Something is hunting you.

Fuck. You whip around, trying to locate the source of the bullet. You heard it shoot from behind you, but you don’t see anyone. Going back the way you came might mean running straight into their arms. You glance around one last time, but a second gunshot has you running on your feet in no time.

You dash through the woods, not bothering to look behind you as the gun fires off in the near distance. You don’t think they’re shooting at you, and running zig-zag like you were taught as a kid just means slowing down. So, you run straight ahead with no clear plan in mind. You unhook your pepper spray again (you should probably thank Kylar), just in case, but you don’t know how much good it will do in a gunfight. Still, something is better than nothing, so you hold onto it, keeping it close to your chest as you run, run, run.

Your foot hits something strange and loses balance. You don’t even have time to process it until you’re lifted upside-down by your heel, face to inverted face with a plant person.

“I caught one!” The plant girl exclaims. “This one’s wearing lacey panties!” You spray her, and she falls, her vines releasing you instantly. It’s only when you see sap pouring out from a hole on the side of her head that you hear the gunshot and realize it wasn’t you that took her down.

“Got you,” Eden says, a hand on your shoulder. You try to turn around, but the second you move, you’re on the ground, nose pressed into the soil, and arms pinned behind you in a painful grip. You feel your pepper spray being torn from your hand and thrown next to a bush.

Shit. Shit!

He’s got you in a submission hold. There’s nothing you can do but go along with it and wait for an opportunity. It takes everything in you not to thrash and scream against his hold, but you know that would only make things worse.

Eden runs his hand down your back, stopping when he gets to the hem of your skirt. He flips it up, taking a moment to admire it before giving it a light slap. You jump when he hits you, though it’s more about the surprise than the pain.

“You’re hurting me!” You cry, trying your best to sound helpless. “Please let go!” You weakly struggle against his grip for good measure.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, voice gruff. “Can’t do that. You’ll run away.”

“I’ll be good! I’ll be good! Please, please, let me go!” You wiggle around, pretending this is as much strength as you can muster up. Eden leans down and studies your expression for a moment. You can feel the outline of his cock on your back as he leans down to look at you. The scrutiny in such a position is near-unbearable, but he releases you without a word.

You force yourself to be still for a moment, not to do anything that would alert him. Then, slowly, you turn around and, mustering up every bit of courage you have, lean up and kiss him. He seems taken aback but soon reciprocates the gesture. You press into him, stroking and massaging his skin as you cautiously lean him back into a more desirable position.

Though it costs you your dignity, you’re eventually able to get on top of him, grinding against him through his pants as you lower him to the ground. When you’ve got him completely below you, and you’re straddling his hips, you break the kiss and pull yourself up.

“I think it's time we get rid of these,” you say, grabbing your panties and lifting your hips, then swaying them suggestively. You shift your weight to one knee and lift your other leg up, then, in a sudden, adrenaline-charged burst of speed, you throw yourself off of him and stagger to your feet. You kick him in the crotch and run towards the bush where your pepper spray landed.

Eden catches your foot, and you nosedive towards the ground. You fall, but pepper spray is just within reach. You grab it and go limp. Eden drags your body closer to his, and you use it as an opportunity to spray him. He grabs his eyes and recoils, and you quickly gather yourself and run back the way you came.

Your clothes snag on bushes and branches as you run, but you pay it no mind as you force yourself to run. You can’t hear anything but the wind in your ears, so you have no idea if Eden is chasing you or not.

Silly you, it shouldn’t have been Eden you were worrying about.

You feel yourself hit the ground before you even register being knocked down. There’s a growling above you and two hands on either side of your body. You twist around, barely even registering the wolf ears and sharp teeth of the man on top of you. You spray him, and he staggers back. You rush to your feet and keep running until you’re safely out of the forest. Your clothes are practically in scraps by the time you’re out, and at this point, you think it’ll be cheaper to just buy new clothes instead of fixing them.

Then, it hits you. The pain and exhaustion.

You drop to your knees, suddenly aware of every scratch, scrape, and bruise you acquired while running through the forest, suddenly aware of the strain on your muscles from the fatigue. You stay sitting for a few minutes, waiting for your muscles to stop hurting or for you to stop caring. When you notice the sun is starting to set, you pull yourself up and drag yourself back home, where you run a bath and then go straight to bed.

—————————

It is Friday, the 9th of September, 2022. -It has been 5 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £529 Pain: You are upset Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You get up and check your socials on your phone.

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships: Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Fascination: 100% Love: 5% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Jealousy: 5% Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Fascination: 50% Love: 10% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 40% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Fascination: 100% Love: 9% Devotion: 55% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Fascination: 70% Love: 8% Devotion: 25% Purity: 20% Jealousy: 0% Lust: 70% Avery The Businessman Avery thinks you’re cute. Fascination: 55% Love: 1% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0% Dominance: 0% Lust: 30% Rage: 0% Eden The Hunter Eden wants you back. Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 0% Dominance: 0% Lust: 100% Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again. Reputation: The police consider you a person of interest, and have enough evidence for an arrest. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 60% Sex: Unknown. Prostitution: Unknown. Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown. Exhibitionism: Obscure. Pregnancy: Unknown. Combat: Low-key. Kindness: Obscure. Business: Unknown. Socialite: Unknown. Overall: Notorious. The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

Your eyes hover over your police reputation. You sigh. You’ll have to visit Landry after school. You throw your covers off of you and climb out of bed, groggily going to your wardrobe.

Right. Your clothes got torn. You pick up an undamaged skirt and shirt, tossing the tattered garments into the trash. You put on your clothes and pick up your bag, not bothering to stop by Robin’s room this morning.

You take a bus to the shopping center, where you do what you should have done on day one: buy clothes that actually cover you. You browse for a few minutes, looking for something as pervert-proof as possible. You settle on a school blouse, shorts, a sports bra, suspenders, and a pair of work boots.

The shorts provide you protection against people lifting your skirt, the suspenders (which you’ll have to sew on) keep you from being pantsed, the sports bra can’t be unclipped and provides support in case you need to run, and the work boots will help you keep your footing when you need to go to the moor or the woods.

You buy what you’re wearing as well as a few backups of the shorts and shirt, totaling £215. You pay and leave, arriving at school just in time for your science class. Today’s Friday, so you have a chance to improve your grades if you do well on the tests.

The lesson pace is a little different from usual. It’s just a review of everything you’ve learned this week. Nothing new is being covered, so you don’t bother to take notes. Not that you’ve had any time to study your notes since coming here.

The test is easy enough, despite your terrible study habits, and you manage to improve your grade to a D. -Stress

The rest of the day continues similarly, and soon you have D’s all across the board. --Stress

You go to the pub after school, looking around for a thin man or woman with black hair and a grey sweater. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn your head. It’s a tall man you’ve never seen before. He’s covered in tattoos.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, booze on his breath. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. You’re the talk of the town. Bit surprising not seeing you being fucked raw, though.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I reckon it’s time I got my slice of the pie. You like it rough, right? That’s what I’ve heard. Come ‘ere, sweetheart.”

“Am I interrupting?” You hear a man’s voice, and the tall man’s hand on your shoulder loses it’s grip. You look over to see the face of your savior and realize it’s the very person you were looking for. Your face shifts to one of relief. -Stress

“Yeah,” he says. “Piss off.”

“I recognize you.”

“You should, I come here more often than I-”

“March 3rd, 2009. Nightingale Street.” The tall man pales. “So you know what I’m talking about. I wasn’t there myself, but I’ve heard the stories. You were the talk of the town.”

The tall man stutters. “Y-you’re not with the fuzz. You won’t turn me in.”

“You don’t know that. And either way, we both know you’re not hiding from the police. So how about you let her go, and I won’t tip off the Elk about your latest haunt.” The tall man looks at you, then Landry, then you again. Landry smiles. He throws his hands off of you.

“Fine. Shit, fine. You her lover? You picked a damn slutty one.” Landry waits until the man is out of earshot before turning to you.

“Come with me,” he says. “I want to talk to you in private.”

“Reputation isn’t always a good thing,” Landry says as you sit down. “Word’s spread about you. You’re notorious. That’s why that drunkard went for you. You remember what he said, right?”

“I haven’t even done anything,” you say.

“No, but you’re pretty while doing it,” Landry retorts. “Not hitting on you,” he says.

“Thanks?”

“It’s not a good thing. You attract attention wherever you go. Where a normal person might have to fuck a hundred people to start getting known as a slut around town, you’d only have to fuck one.”

“Oh,” you say, slinking in your seat. “So, what can I do?”

“I think I can help you,” he pauses. “Well, not me. But I think I know someone. This orphan at the home on Domus Street. A computer whiz. Mickey, or McKay, something like that. Best hope is to find this orphan. If you can get them to come work with me, they’ll be able to hook you up. There’ll be some money in it for you, too. Just don’t step on Bailey’s toes.” You nod.

“Thank you,” you say. Landry smiles.

“There’s another thing, too,” he says. “I’ll be frank. I know you need money. Don’t ask me how I know, word gets around. I think I can help you. If you come across any jewelry or other items you don’t know what to do with, I can take them off your hands. I’ll pay well.” He looks over your shoulder. “As well as can be expected, anyway.”

“Can you help me get the police off my trail?”

“I can help you,” he says, reclining. “But I need you to do something for me. And no, it’s not about money. I was expecting a package, but it never arrived. Good thing I know where to find it, it had a GPS tracker. It got lost somewhere deep in the moor. Get it for me, and I’ll prevent any of your past misdemeanors being pinned on you. It’s a small black box.” You nod and stand.

“Oh, and do be careful,” Landry says. “I don’t believe the tales of monsters, but there’s a sensible reason behind some superstitions.”

You’re already wearing work boots, but you want to wear something that you can afford to tear, too. Preferably something resistant that can protect you. But you don’t have the money for that, so you head back to the orphanage and wear the only other outfit you have, a sundress. You put your pepper spray keychain on your bookbag and take it with you, hoping you won’t run out during this trip.

After double checking everything is in order, you leave the orphanage and begin to make the long trek to the moor.

Several people attempt to pick you up along the way. By which you mean literally every person who passes by you has slowed down to talk and ask where you’re headed. Not willing to risk anything, you turn them all down, running when they get too persistent. By the time you finally make it to the farmlands, you’re exhausted. So you sit down near the entrance to rest, knowing you’ll need your energy for the moor.

“You alright there?” Someone asks. You look up to see a suntanned boy under a straw hat, looking concerned. He looks around your age, with red hair and a boyish appearance. He must be Alex, you realize.

“It was just a really long walk to get here,” you admit sheepishly.

“You walked all the way from town?” You nod. “Well, Jesus! No wonder you’re so tired. Come in and get some water, my place isn’t far.”

“Do you own the farm?”

“Yeah, I do! It’s a work in progress, but it’s home.” You smile.

Alex is right, and it doesn’t take long to reach the cottage, where he offers you a glass of water. You thank him and gulp it down. +++Drugged

…Huh?

You stare at your phone. The screen seems to shift.

Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You feel cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are nervous Control: You are anxious Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged A lewd warmth fills you Your perception is altered

You look back up to Alex, who’s staring at you with a grin. You stand up but nearly fall. Alex stands with you, his hands on your shoulders.

“Easy, there,” he says as if you’re a horse that needs to calm down. You shove him off of you and run, reaching for your pepper spray, but in your altered state, you can’t figure out how to unhook it.

>Try again (Skullduggery: Impossible) >Rip it off (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult)

You rip it off, but the fabric holds firm. Alex is close behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult)

You try again and the fabric doesn’t yield. Alex is right behind you.

>Try again (Athletics: Challenging) >Spray without unhooking (Dance: Very Difficult)

This is taking too long. You spray without unhooking, managing to get Alex, but in your flailing, also manage to spray yourself. +++Pain ++Willpower

You run, you don’t even know where you’re going you just run.

You can’t open your eyes, but you know they wouldn’t be of much help in this state, anyway. You run until you hit what feels like tall grass, then slow. You’re in the moor now.

You try to quiet your breathing as you listen for anything that may be chasing you or lying in wait. You hear nothing. You go a little further in, just enough to be hidden among the grass and wait.

Eventually, the pain subsides, and you open your bleary eyes. You still feel unsteady, though, so you wait longer. It takes another forty minutes for you to regain full balance and control of your body. When you do, you trudge deeper into the moor, relying on the map on your phone to guide you to the box. After what feels like two hours of searching, you finally find the box across from some water.

You grimace as you step in, your shoes and socks instantly soaking with dirty water. The water is about knee-high, so not enough to touch your sundress but just enough to make movement heavily uncomfortable. You hobble over the box, just about to reach it, when you feel something suck you in.

You look behind you and recognize the thing as a lurker. You waste no time and spray it, freeing yourself and grabbing the box before leaving.

Of course, nothing is ever that simple, and just as you leave the water, you see a terrible shadow overhead. You look up and notice a harpy in the sky. You are being hunted.

You start to run. Your pursuer approaches rapidly. ++Stress

You run faster, pushing yourself to your limits as you sprint across the moor. But luck is never on your side, and your foot sinks into something as you land. You look down, and it’s a fucking foxhole. Not big enough for you to run through or hide in. You pull yourself out, but it’s too late.

“Found wife,” he says. You spray him and keep running. That should keep him out of commission for a while.

Eventually, you feel safe enough to walk the rest of the way out of the moor. You sneak around the farmlands and begin to walk the rest of the way home. You’re too tired to make it very far, however, and soon pass out on the road. You feel yourself being lifted onto a stretcher before passing out again.

You’ve unlocked a fragment.

—————————

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yikes-aemond · 5 months ago

Text

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part IV)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, death

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood plan for the future. Things don’t quite go as planned.

word count: 5.1k

author note: Thank you all so much for your patience! I will not lie—this part was a struggle to write. I think I rewrote it at least three times, and I am still not sure if I’m absolutely satisfied. Fair warning, I’m putting our lovebirds through the ringer, but do not worry—I’m a girl who loves a happily ever after. Also, no smut in this part, but stick around for part five. Happy reading!

part i can be found here, part ii here, and part iii here.

“Have you lost your mind?”

You could not have heard him correctly. Surely Benjicot Blackwood had not just asked you to marry him, while you were half naked.

You hurried to adjust your dress and cover yourself in a desperate attempt to establish some sense of dignity and propriety in this moment. Had you not been overwhelmed by the day, had you not been so taken off guard, you might have responded a little more kindly to a proposal from your beloved.

Benjicot laughed as he watched you try to gather your wits about you. He followed your direction, adjusting his breaches so that everything was tucked back into its proper place.

Once you were both decent, Benjicot reiterated, “I am quite serious. We should marry this evening.”

You shook your head, mind racing as you tried to comprehend what he was saying, what he was asking. For years, you had watched Benjicot from afar. Watched the way he grew into a man, into someone that people feared and respected in equal measure. Being with Benjicot was always your dream. The one you had tucked away in your heart for years, never to see the light of day should you dare to do the most dangerous thing in all of Westeros—hope.

And now he was asking you to marry him. You felt unbalanced, unsteady. Your head and your heart were at war.

You managed to get off the bed. Needing a moment to collect yourself, you put some distance between you and Benjicot and moved back across the room to the fireplace.

When you turned back to Benjicot, you saw that he had not moved. His eyes were fixed on you, that predatory gaze locked onto your form, waiting for your response.

That look in his eyes never failed to make you squirm. The weight of that stare made you think he could hear every thought in your head, all your secrets and dreams.

You sighed, breaking eye contact and said, “You know that our families will never allow it.”

Benjicot stood then, and slowly stalked toward you. With each step, you felt your heartbeat pound louder against your chest. You had thought that the longer you spent in his presence, the more you would become used to him. But you could not deny the effect Benjicot had on you, on your body.

Benjicot took your hands in his, and pulled you against him. Placing your hands on his chest, he rubbed his thumbs over the scrapes you had gotten earlier in the woods. Had that only been this morning? Time seemed to hold no meaning in this room. A prison that now felt like a sanctuary.

“That is why we must marry tonight.” Benjicot smiled, and then placed a kiss on your brow. “By the time they find out, it will be too late.”

You pulled back, just enough so that you could look at his face. “And do your really expect your father and Black Aly to welcome me into the family with open arms?”

Benjicot was still smiling, still so sure of his plan. “They will once they see how happy we are. How much we love each other.” He shrugged before continuing, “And we would not be the first Blackwoods and Brackens to marry. Others have done it in the name of peace.”

“But our families do not seek peace now!” You practically shouted, frustration coloring your tone. “We are on the brink of war, and our families stand on opposite sides.”

You tried pulling away, but Benjicot tightened his arms around you, stilling your struggle. Whatever good humor Benjicot had was slowly leaching from his features. “You know as well as I do that Queen Rhaenyra is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.“Of course I agree with you, but that does not change the fact that my father will disown me if we do this. I will never be able to return home.”

Benjicot pressed another kiss to your temple and whispered against your skin,“Would that be such an awful thing?”

You felt your heart jerk at his question. The idea of never seeing your family again, of never being welcomed home, of never eating your cook’s fruit pies or riding through the moorlands outside of Stone Hedge on a misty morning, or gods never visiting your mother’s gravestone, was enough to send a wave of nausea through you.

You hid your face against his chest. “My father was not always the most loving, but he is my father. For all the faults you may find with him, he has never been cruel to me.”

Benjicot felt the shift in your mood, could practically feel the sadness and desperation radiate from the points where you touched. He knew the sacrifice he was asking you to make was no small thing. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort the turmoil within you.

You could not stop the tears even if you wanted to. You did not wail, did not scream at the unfairness of your situation, did not rail against the old gods and the new for cursing your families and subjecting them to an endless blood feud. For what else could this ancient, hateful grudge between the Blackwoods and Brackens be except for a curse?

Even if you could convince your father to bless a marriage between you and Benjicot, any children between you would be enlisted to the war. Generations of prejudice had proven that. It was no matter that the Bracken or Blackwood on the other side would be a cousin. No matter that no one could remember how the hatred between your two families even began. No matter how senseless the bloodshed would be.

This was your and Benjicot’s world. You could not run from the truth of your situation, could not hide from your fates. Not if you wanted your love to withstand.

And even though the thought of never going back to Stone Hedge was devastating, the thought of never seeing Benjicot again was unthinkable. Never hearing his voice or his laugh. Never seeing his smiles. Never having him hold you in his arms. You could not bear the separation, not after having a taste of what your life could be like together.

Your tears slowed and your breathing evened out. Whatever doubts that had plagued your mind were banished. Resolution steeled your spine. You took a fortifying breath and lifted your head from Benjicot’s chest. With a watery smile on your face, you said, “I accept your proposal, Benjicot Blackwood.”

Benjicot’s joy was infectious. Smiling wide and bright, he lifted you into his arms and kissed you with such a reverence that left your breathless. Gods, you loved this man. Wanted him again and could not imagine ever being parted from him. The very thought of being separated was enough to send a panic through you.

You wrapped your arms around Benjicot’s neck and tangled your hands in his hair, your tongue in his mouth. You felt his joy in that kiss. And you let that joy into your heart. Let it fill and warm you. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be happy.

The impossible dream was becoming a reality.

When Benjicot had proposed, he did not have an actual plan. He did not have any rings or a marriage cloak. As a Blackwood, he preferred to have a ceremony before the old gods in front of the ancient, colossal weirwood tree in the godswood.

Because there were no clergy associated with the old gods, the current Lord Blackwood usually performed marriage ceremonies at Raventree Hall. But seeing as his father would likely oppose the marriage, that left Benjicot with few options. With a little convincing, or in Benjicot’s case, a little threat of bodily harm, the maester finally agreed to perform the ceremony.

You could not stop smiling as Benjicot snuck you out of your rooms. With each passing hallway and corridor, you felt your excitement grow. You could barely contain your glee as you clung to each other, arms linked and hands intertwined, as you made your way into the godswood.

The maester stood before the weirwood tree, with only the moonlight and a few lanterns to light the way. Hundreds of ravens were to be your witnesses. On any other night, feeling the weight of all those eyes watching you might have felt unsettling. But nothing could spoil this moment, nothing could come between you and Benjicot—

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?”

Every muscle in your body tensed. Panic settled in your chest, and you felt your stomach drop.

Black Aly stood at the edge of the godswood, her bow and arrow knocked and poised to strike.

You felt the world shift. One moment you were standing beside Benjicot, and the next, Benjicot stood in between you and Aly, putting himself in the way of the arrow that had been aimed at your chest.

“Lower the bow, Aly.” Benjicot’s voice was hard and low. You watched as he moved his hand to the hilt of his dagger, ready to draw the blade at any moment.

Even from a distance, you could see Aly roll her eyes at Benjicot’s actions, but she did not lower her bow. “Do not overwork yourself, nephew.”

You grabbed the back of Benjicot’s cloak, pulling slightly as if to hold him back. You glanced wearily back and forth between the Blackwoods. Two warriors preparing to battle. The last thing you wanted was for there to be violence. For surely a duel between Bloody Ben and Black Aly would be a fight for the ages.

Benjicot’s body was tense as yours. He did not truly believe that Aly would hurt you. Aly was tough but fair, and underneath her brash attitude and hostility, she had a gentle heart. But he would not risk you. Would not allow anyone to threaten or harm you. Not when he had the ability to protect you.

Benjicot pulled out his dagger. “Put the bow away, Aly. I will not ask again.”

You wanted to step in between them like you had done in the fight with Aeron. But this situation was different. This was two Blackwood who were taking the measure of each other, testing how far the other was willing to go. You could not intervene, even if the sight of an arrow pointed at Benjicot was enough to send your blood running cold.

After what felt like hours, Aly lowered her bow. Sighing, she returned the arrow to her quiver. Only then did Benjicot sheath his dagger.

“You sure have a flare for the dramatics, nephew.”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Says the woman who had an arrow aimed at my betrothed.”

Your heart fluttered at the word.

Aly huffed out a laugh. “Is that what she is to you? Your betrothed? I do not recall your father agreeing to any such arrangement.”

Benjicot remained in front of you, a barrier between you and Aly. “I asked for her hand, and she accepted.”

Aly stood with her hands on her hips, eyes directed toward the heavens. She looked as if she were searching for patience amongst the stars. When she cut her gaze back to Benjicot, you could not miss the look of pity that flashed across her face.

“Benji, you know that you cannot marry her.”

You reached for Benjicot’s hand, needing his touch and warmth to ground you in this moment. Whatever happiness you had felt, whatever joy that you had shared, was now slowly falling through your grasp.

Black Aly would never allow you two to marry. Not like this.

But Benjicot’s stubbornness was no light thing. “I love her, Aly. I will marry her, and you cannot stop me.”

Just as Aly was about to respond, you saw her face pale and expression grow uneasy. And when you heard the voice behind you, you understood why.

“You would be wise to reconsider that position, son.”

If you had thought you felt panic before, that was nothing to the sickening feeling that plagued you now.

Because standing on the opposite side of the godswood, directly across from Aly, was Lord Samwell Blackwood. Benjicot’s father, and your own father’s sworn enemy. And with him stood a dozen Blackwood guards, each looking between you and Benjicot with expressions that ranged from disbelief to disgust.

You had never been formally introduced to Lord Blackwood. He was a rather tall man, with hair as black as a raven’s wing. His close-cropped beard was the same. Like Benjicot, his gaze was enough to send a lesser man cowering. And right now that gaze was cold and enraged and fixed on you and Benjicot.

If Benjicot had not been holding your hand, you would have been trembling. The two of you were trapped.

“Are you so eager to start a war, Benjicot?” Lord Blackwood asked, his tone was like ice. “For some Bracken wench?”

You felt Benjicot’s hand tighten around yours, almost to the point of pain. One glance at Benjicot told you that he was furious. His glare held that feral edge, and he was close to snarling. Bloody Ben was backed into a corner, and he looked itching for a fight. Even if that fight was against his own father.

“You will mind how you speak about my lady, father.” Had you not been so fearful for your life and his, you would have thought that declaration rather romantic.

Lord Blackwood did not look impressed. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you and your lady have brought to our door, Benjicot?”

“We wish to marry, father.” Benjicot glanced at you as he said, “We love each other.”

A long suffering sigh escaped from Lord Blackwood as he motioned for his men to stand down. “That does not change the fact that she is a Bracken. You cannot simply marry her without expecting there to be consequences.”

“I am prepared to accept any consequence if it means we can be together.” The surety in Benjicot’s tone was enough to ease the fear that had gripped you since you had been discovered. You could help but give him a small smile.

A smile that Lord Blackwood did not miss. “And you, Lady Bracken?” Lord Blackwood sneered. “Are you prepared to face the consequences of this marriage? Your father will seek retribution for this little act of rebellion. Are you prepared to have blood on your hands?”

Now you were the one who squeezed Benjicot’s hand. Lord Blackwood terrified you, and so did his words. You did not wish to be the cause of another fight between the Blackwoods and the Brackens, did not want to send anyone to their death because you fell in love with someone who was never meant to be yours.

Benjicot nudged his shoulder against yours, offering you what strength he could. With him standing at your side, you found the courage to meet Lord Blackwood’s gaze. “Whatever trials and tribulations may come our way, Lord Blackwood, I am prepared to meet them with Benjicot as my lord husband.”

Even without looking at him, you could feel Benjicot’s eyes on you as you held your own against his father. Could feel how proud he was of you for defending your future together.

Taking another breathe, you could not help but add, “You speak of my hands becoming bloody, but I could not think of anything more fitting for a woman betrothed to Bloody Ben Blackwood.”

The silence in the godswood was deafening.

Every person and creature seemed to be holding their breath for Lord Blackwood’s response. You did not dare break eye contact with him, determined to hold your ground and prove yourself worthy of being Benjicot’s wife.

Lord Blackwood finally moved his gaze from you and back to Benjicot. “We will treat with Lord Bracken tomorrow. Offer him a parley. You will ask his permission to marry his daughter. You will accept his decision, no matter what he says.”

“Father! You know he will not—”

But Lord Blackwood had heard enough. Holding up his hand, he demanded silence. “Those are my terms, Benjicot. Be grateful I am allowing this much.”

A weariness had settled over Lord Blackwood’s features. Although he was still a man in his prime, in that moment, he looked aged and tired. As he turned to leave the godswood, he said, “We stand on the brink of war. The Targaryens are at each other’s throats since King Viserys passed. Soon House Blackwood will be asked to choose a side, and you have allowed your foolish heart to guide your choices.”

You could tell Benjicot wanted to protest, wanted to push back on his father’s orders. He knew as well as you did that convincing your father to allow the two of you to marry was going to take an act of the gods.

And even though Benjicot knew when to pick his battles, knew when he had lost a fight, he could not help but have the last word. “There are worse things to be guided by than one’s heart, father.”

Benjicot’s words gave Lord Blackwood pause. For a moment, you thought he might respond, might reprimand Benjicot for his lack of respect. Only when Lord Blackwood continued walking out of the godswood did you feel like you could breathe again.

The Blackwood guards followed their ledge lord, leaving you, Benjicot, and Aly in the presence of the ravens. You could have collapsed from exhaustion. You felt wrung out from the day. Too much had happened in such a short period of time, and your body was protesting.

Aly approached and stopped just short of you and Benjicot. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Benjicot rounded on Aly, and with animosity in his voice, he asked, “Why did you stop us?”

Aly stared at Benjicot like he had grown a second head. “We’re trying to prevent a war, Benji. Had the two of you married, Bracken would have shown up here with a thousand men seeking your head. You might love each other, but is that love really worth the lives of hundreds? Thousands?”

“You are overreacting—”

Aly shoved at Benjicot’s chest. “And you are being an idiot! Use your head, Benji. If you had married in secret, the Brackens would have stopped at nothing to avenge that insult. You know that, even if you are too blind to see it.”

With a softer tone, Aly continued, “Be grateful your father is supporting you in this. He could have just as easily returned her to Stone Hedge. You have a chance.”

Benjicot scoffed. “A chance? Do you really believe—”

“Enough.” You cut Benjicot off before he could say another word. You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “My father may hate Blackwoods, but he is not unreasonable. We will convince him.”

You could tell that Benjicot was struggling to control his temper. He was still running hot from the confrontation with Aly and his father. Bloody Ben was lingering too close to the surface. You pulled his face toward yours and pressed a kiss to his lips. Nothing more than a gentle peck, but enough to distract him.

When you pulled back, you could see that some of the edge had worn off. Benjicot’s face was calmer, less hostile. “I love you, Benjicot Blackwood. I do not plan to give you up without a fight.”

Benjicot smiled at your words, the soft smile he reserved just for you. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you under his chin. “My brave girl. I pity any man who would dare cross you.”

You held each other for a moment before Aly cleared her throat. “If you two are finished, I’m going to escort little Bracken back to her rooms.”

With a quick kiss to your head, Benjicot released you and said, “Sleep well, my lady.”

You did not want to leave Benjicot, but you knew there was no way Aly was going to let you stay with each other. As you followed her out of the godswood, you could not help but take one last look at Benjicot.

You nearly stumbled when you saw him. Beneath the ancient weirwood tree, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by ravens, stood Benjicot. His head bowed as if in prayer.

You did not have to guess what he was praying about. You only hoped that the old gods were listening.

The only neutral territory acceptable to both the Blackwoods and the Brackens were the boundary stones near the old windmill. The day was overcast and cold, with the wind tearing through the cloak Aly had lent you.

Aly had not left your side since collecting you from your rooms that morning. You and Benjicot had been kept separated for the entire journey. You had asked for him, begged Aly to allow you two a moment alone, but she had refused. Lord Blackwood was keeping both she and Benjicot on a tight leash until this matter was settled.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had tossed and turned the entire night, too anxious to close your eyes for fear of what your dreams may hold. You might have been confident with Benjicot the night before, but in truth, you had no idea how to convince your father to allow you to marry.

The Brackens had arrived first.

A host of about fifty men had gathered on their side of the boundary stones. A sea of red and gold with a few horses scattered in the mix. You did not miss how all the men were armed with swords at the ready.

And in the front, seated atop his favorite war horse and adorned in battle leathers, was Amos Bracken. Your father.

Amos Bracken was not as tall or built as Samwell Blackwood, but you knew your father to be a proficient swordsmen and respected fighter in his own right. You had no doubt that should this come to blows, he would hold his own.

Aeron stood beside him. A united front against their perceived enemies. And while your father’s face was blank of all emotions, calm and controlled, Aeron’s disdain for the Blackwoods was clear for all to see.

The Blackwood host equalled that of the Brackens’. You had ridden to the neutral ground on the back of Aly’s horse. You had tried to spot Benjicot all morning, but there were too many men, too much chaos. The closer you got to the boundary stones, the more you felt Aly tense in front of you.

When you finally stopped, Aly directed you to the front of the vanguard. She had drawn her bow the moment your feet hit the ground.

Your first sight of Benjicot sent your heart thumping. His dark hair was mussed, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times. But that was the only sign that Benjicot felt uneasy. His posture was relaxed, and his mouth was fixed in a smirk, like this meeting was an every day occurrence. He showed no fear.

Aly stopped you slightly behind and to the right of Benjicot. You saw the moment when your father and Aeron spotted you. Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Aeron’s face twisted into a mix of shock and disbelief.

You swallowed down the fear and anxiety. Swallowed down the nausea that threatened to upend your breakfast. Swallowed down any uncertainty you felt. You had to present a strong front to your father and his men. Otherwise, they would pounce on any hesitation and demand that you be returned home.

Lord Blackwood broke the silence first. “Amos. A pleasure as always.”

“Cut the shit, Blackwood,” Lord Bracken snarled, “and return my daughter to me.”

The words were not unexpected. You tensed as Aeron shifted his hand to the sword at his side, stomach twisting as he gripped the hilt.

You exhaled a long breath and fixed your gaze on your father. “I am well, father. The Blackwoods have treated me kindly.”

Lord Bracken’s face darkened, and you instantly regretted speaking. “I do not want to hear a single word from you.”

Your cheeks flamed at the dismissal, but you refused to lower your eyes. Refused to cower before your family. “Then I am sorry to disappoint you, father.”

“You insubordinate, ungrateful—”

“Lord Bracken,” Benjicot interjected, stopping your father from insulting you further. “I am here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You did not so much as breathe as you waited for your father to respond.

And waited.

The longer you waited, the more panic seeped into your veins. But when your father finally responded, you wished that he had not.

With a sneer on his face, your father glared at Benjicot when he said, “I would sooner feed my daughter to one of those Targaryen dragons before marrying her to some Blackwood cunt.”

You had felt like someone had knocked the air from your lungs. You had never seen such hatred on your father’s face. Had never heard his voice sound so cold and cruel. You knew that he hated the Blackwoods, but to sentence you to death rather than let you marry?

You looked at your father like he was a stranger.

You heard angry shouts and curses behind you from the Blackwood host. Felt that the bloodlust in the air had upped a notch.

Lord Blackwood held up a hand to silence his men. “Careful, Bracken.”

“My daughter was taken by your son. Subjected to gods knows what. I will not be careful, Blackwood.”

“That’s not true, father!” You shouted, launching yourself to stand before your father. You had to find some way to convince him, some way to get him to listen. “Benjicot and I are in love. Please, just listen to us.”

Your father scoffed. “Love? Between a Bracken and a Blackwood? Do not make me laugh.”

The Bracken host jeered at your father’s word, laughing and snickering at the very idea of you and Benjicot being together. You even heard a man call out, “Blackwood whore!”

You did not see Benjicot move. Did not see him reach for the dagger at his hip. Did not see him launch the blade into the air.

But you could not miss the dagger embedding itself into the man’s throat. Could not miss the splattering of blood or the final wheeze of breath the man took before falling to the ground. Dead in the blink of an eye.

A scream tore from your throat. You whipped around to look at Benjicot and found Bloody Ben instead. His eyes held that crazed, feral look, but there was no smirk.

Every Blackwood and Bracken standing in that field un-sheathed their weapons.

“You may insult me all you wish, Bracken!” Benjicot called out, moving forward. “Call me a cunt. Call me craven. I do not care.” He stopped next to you and took your hand. "But I will cut down any man who dares to say such vile insults to my lady. Of that, I promise you.”

Your father did not look pleased by that declaration. If anything, he looked more enraged than before. “You violate the terms of this parley, Blackwood. You have spilled Bracken blood. I have the right to demand your head. But I will settle for the return of my daughter. Now.”

You were close to tears. Nothing you or Benjicot said moved your father. He was determined to hold onto his hatred, to see the Blackwoods in the worst possible light. But you could not give up—you had to try.

“Father, please,” your voice broke at the words, “I know that the feud between our families has lasted for a millennium. I know that the thought of a Blackwood and Bracken being together, of loving one another, is inconceivable to you. I know that this is not the life you wished for me. But I have lovedBenjicot since I was a girl.” You took a quick glance at Benjicot to give you strength. “And he loves me. I humbly ask you to grant our union.”

Your father refused to look at you. Refused to acknowledge your words or pleas. You clutched Benjicot’s hand tighter. For you knew what was coming. Knew that your father was about to crush whatever hope you still held onto.

Ignoring you and Benjicot as if you were insignificant, he directed his words to Lord Blackwood, “I do not give my blessing to this marriage. Return my daughter to me or we will have war.”

Your vision swam and your ears began ringing. Somewhere in the distance you heard Lord Blackwood sigh and give the command. Your hand was ripped from Benjicot’s, by whom you did not know. You felt as if the entire world had spun off its axis. How had everything gone so wrong?

One moment, you were standing next to Benjicot, his warm hand against yours, and then in the blink of an eye, you were on the other side of the boundary stones, with Aeron leading you away.

You felt as if you were disconnected from your body. Aeron’s arms were around you, guiding you. You were vaguely aware that he was trying to say something, speak to you about what had happened. But you felt nothing. Heard nothing. A numbness had settled over you.

Only when you heard Benjicot call out your name did you snap.

You shoved against Aeron, tried to run back across the boundary stones to Blackwood land, back to your love, but Aeron held firm. You struggled against him, screaming and hitting and kicking, but your strength was no match for his.

You looked across the field to see Benjicot being held back by three men. He was snarling and raging, but the men held firm and forced him to his knees. You watched as Aly tried to speak to him, tried to calm him down.

But there was no calming Bloody Ben. Not now. Not when his lady had been taken from him.

When Benjicot saw that you were watching him, saw that you were struggling against your own constraints, he stopped. His eyes were wild and fierce and held the promise of retribution. With laboring breaths Benjicot shouted across the field, “I will come you for you, my lady!” He vowed. “I will always come for you!”

You sobbed at his words. Sobbed for the happiness and hope that you had felt only hours before. Sobbed for the future you might have shared together.

For the second time, you were forced to leave Benjicot behind in this accursed field. Only this time, the heartbreak was so much worse. You had gotten a taste of the impossible dream, gotten so close to getting everything you wanted.

Your dream had become a nightmare.

final author note: I know! I know! We have to suffer before things get better. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love you babes xx

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k4marina · 7 months ago

Text

— iii. Stormborn || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: as plans to conqour westeros begin, daenerys and i are met with an unknown visitor

warnings: got cannon violence, war, battle nothing super graphic. this chapter follows the storylime of Stormborn (S7 Ep2) so spoiler warning ig

a/n: all dialogue italicized is in Valyrian & important note at the end!!

series masterlist || next part

4.9k word count

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

“Your Grace summons you to the Painted Table.” The servant had said after I had gotten back to my room from my morning training. Daenerys had gotten busier in the last few weeks as she planned ahead for the upcoming war.

I found her standing by the fireplace with her back turned towards me and the table that was in the shape of the Seven Kingdoms. A few figurines of different houses of Westeros were laid out in their appropriate places.

“You called?”

She takes a moment to turn, collecting her thoughts.

“In a few days Olenna Tyrell, Ellaria Sand, and Yara Greyjoy will be here to pledge their allegiance to me and further discuss our plans to take the Iron Throne.” She rounded the table, walking closer to me. “But before they arrive is there anything I must know?”

I furrowed my brows, thinking back or ahead in the future? Nonetheless, I wracked my brain for anything that would be useful.

“Oh,” I remembered. “An ambush. There’s going to be an ambush.”

A flash of concern comes across her face. “Who?”

“Euron Greyjoy. After your meeting you ordered Yara to escort Ellaria and their troops to Sunspear. But along the way Euron ambushes them.” The whole ordeal was hard to read. Daenerys’ campaign was going so well until that point.

“It was catastrophic. So many died and so many ships destroyed they were still finding wreckage when I was born.” I turned towards the map, thinking back to where we were told the ambush had taken place.

“Here. 50 miles north of Sharp Point in Blackwater Bay.” I pointed out. “That’s where they were ambushed.”

“The damage?”

“Significant. Euron, Yara’s uncle, takes her and Ellaria Sand and her daughter as hostages for Cersie and imprisons them in King's Landing. And, his ships are equipped with Scorpions.”

She takes in a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. Her eyes look down at where I’ve pointed just a moment ago, weighing her options and thinking of a new plan.

“So what do we do?”

I smile. “I have a plan.”

—

Rain had been pouring down for the past three days and it showed no signs of letting up all while the entire castle prepared for the arrival of Houses Greyjoy, Martel, and Tyrell. I sighed, walking away from the floor to ceiling windows of the library and back to the roundtable full of books. With the rain getting heavier Grey Worm had decided to postpone my lessons which left me in the library of the castle, hunched over a mountain of books.

“Not very fond of the rain?” Missandei asks from the table, peering over a book. “I am. Just not very fond of the dreariness of it.” I reply, sitting down across from her. “It’s interesting how something as simple as the weather can change a person's entire mood.”

She nodded, setting the book aside. “In Essos it barely rained. Whenever it did, the sky would be clear and the temperature hot. Here, the rain is so…”

“Heavy.” I finished off. “Whenever the weather gets like this all I want to do is sleep.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Missandei beams. “I just want to curl up under the hearth with a cup of tea and a good book.”

I laughed, “after all the reading I’ve done, it’s the last thing I’d want to do when I’m relaxing.”

We both shared a laugh before falling into a pregnant pause. I could tell that she was still apprehensive about me. When she came to me this morning, asking to join me in the library, I was shocked. Out of council meetings and occasionally bumping into each other we had barely talked.

“You don’t trust me,” I said.

She watched my expression as she replied. “Can you blame me?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m glad that you are, though. I’d be more concerned if you’d blindly trust me. Especially with my.. sudden appearance.”

Out of everyone in Daenerys’ council I knew from the start that Missandei would be the hardest to build a relationship with. She’d been with Dany for years. She’d seen her at her lowest and highest. Which is why she would be one of my most important allies, other than Daenerys.

“You also don’t trust us,” Missandei says.

“Wrong,” I correct. “I trust Daenerys. You. Grey Worm, and Tyrion.”

“Not Lord Varys?” She asks.

“No. Varys is… different, in a lot of ways.” I needed to tread carefully. I couldn’t just outwardly say that he would betray Daenerys and be the reason why Misssandei would die. But, I could sew in the seeds of doubt.

“He’s.. somewhat unpredictable.” I pursed my lips. “His origin and journey is admirable, don’t get me wrong. It’s just his methods and means and history that are a bit questionable.”

Everyone knows that Varys has his “little birds” but they don’t know the truth behind them. Missandei didn’t say much after that, letting my words sit in her mind for the rest of the day. I knew what I had said had left her stumped and that she would tell Daenerys of our conversation. I just hoped that the seed had been planted deep enough.

—

The storm had raged on into the night. I was getting ready to turn into the night when a servant informed me of a small council meeting at the Painted Table. Quickly, I made my way over, seeing that everyone else was already there.

“I hope I’m not late.” I say to no one in particular. Missandei and Grey Worm give me a few nods while Tyrion and Varys watch Daenerys who had her back towards us, deep in thought.

“On a night like this, you were born,” Tyrion remarks.

“I remember that storm. All the dogs in King’s Landing howled through the night.” Varys adds.

“I wish I could remember it.” Daenerys says, finally turning around. Her face was somewhat stoic as she walked over to the table. “I always thought this would be a homecoming, this doesn't feel like home.”

She’s upset, I noted. Did Missandei and I’s conversation work?

“We won’t stay at Dragonstone for long.” Tyrion reassures.

“Good.” She says, looking at the figurine on the table. “Not many lions.”

“Cersie controls fewer than half of the Seven Kingdoms. The lords of Westeros despise her. Even before your arrival, they plotted against her. Now…” Varys says. I don’t know why but the tone of his voice makes me want to jump into the sea.

“They cry out for their true queen? They drink secret toasts to my health?” Daenerys walks closer to Varys, almost as if she were sizing him up. “People used to tell my brother that sort of thing, and he was stupid enough to believe them.”

Everyone in the room watches carefully as she picks up a dragon figurine from the table. “If Viserys had three dragons and an army at his back he’d have invaded King’s Landing already.”

“Conquering Westeros would be easy for you. But you’re not here to be the queen of the ashes.” Tyrion interjects.

“No,” Daenerys puts down the dragon figure.

“We can take the Seven Kingdoms without turning it into a slaughterhouse,” I say. “We already have three great houses supporting your claim.”

“I agree,” Tyrion nods my way. “With the Tyrell army and the Dornish on our side, we have powerful allies in the south.”

Daenerys looks at Varys. “I never properly thanked you for that.” Though, her voice lacked any bit of gratitude.

“They joined our side, my queen, because they believe in you.” Vays says.

“You served my father, didn’t you, Lord Varys?”

“I did,” He replies.

“And then you served the man who overthrew him?” Her tone shifted.

“I had a choice, Your Grace– serve Robert Baratheon or face the headsman's axe.” Varys says defensively.

“But you didn’t serve him long. You turned against him.”

“Robert was an improvement on your father, to be sure. There have been few rulers in history as cruel as the Mad King. Robert was neither mad nor cruel. He simply had no interest in being king.” Varys countered.

“So you took it upon yourself to find yourself a better one.” She pressed further.

Tyrion, feeling the tension in the room, comes to Varys’ defense. “Your Grace,” Daenerys turns towards Tyrion. “When I was ready to drink myself into a small coffin, Lord Varys told me about a queen in the east who–”

“Before I came to power,” Daenerys turned back to Varys, “you favored my brother. All your spies, your little birds, did they tell you Viserys was cruel, stupid, and weak? Would those qualities have made for a good king in your learned opinion?”

“Until your marriage to Khal Drogo, Your Grace. I knew nothing about you, save your existence and that you were said to be beautiful.” Varys deflects. Daenerys looks past and towards me.

“Are you sure?” I hummed, catching everyone’s attention. Varys’ face hardened and he glared towards me. “Because from what I remember, you’ve always known about Daenerys.”

I stepped forward, standing behind Daenerys. “Matter of fact, you were the one who planned Daenerys’ marriage to Khal Drogo with Illyrio.”

Varys opened his mouth to speak, but Daenerys beat him to it.

“You and your friends traded me like a prized horse to the Dothraki.”

“Which you turned to your advantage.” He was starting to panic. It was clear the Varys didn’t like to have his back against the wall.

“Who gave the order to kill me?”

“King Robert.” He replies quickly.

“Who hired the assassins?” She steps closer to Varys. “Who sent word to Essos to murder Daenerys Targaryen?”

“Your Grace,” you could hear panic set in his voice. “I did what had to be done–”

“To keep yourself alive.” Daenerys says firmly.

“Lord Varys has proven himself a loyal servant.” Tyrion says, trying to calm the situation.

“Proven himself loyal?” I scoffed.

“Quite the opposite.” Daenerys, turned towards her hand. “If he dislikes one monarch. He conspires to crown the next one. What kind of a servant is that?”

“The kind the realm needs.” Varys says firmly. “Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind loyalty. As long as I have my eyes, I’ll use them. I wasn’t born into a great house. I come from nothing. I was sold as a slave and carved up as an offering. When I was a child, I lived in alleys, gutters, abandoned houses. You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win. If you demand blind allegiance, I respect your wishes. Grey Worm can behead me or your dragons can devour me. But if you let me live, I will serve you well. I will dedicate myself to seeing you on the Iron Throne because I choose you. Because I know the people have no better chance than you.”

Silence lingers in the air as Varys’ words settle into the room. The rest watched the three of us carefully, holding their breaths.

“Swear this to me, Varys.” Daenerys’ voice is calm, and no longer holds any edge. “If you ever think I’m failing the people, you won’t conspire behind my back. You’ll look me in the eye as you have done today, and you’ll tell me how I’m failing them.”

Feeling satisfied that he’s in the clear, Varys stands straight. “I swear it, my queen.”

“And I swear this– if you even betray me, I’ll burn you alive.” She quickly warns.

Varys smiles. “I would expect nothing less from the Mother of Dragons.”

Amidst back and forth a servant had entered the room, informing Grey Worm of a visitor.

“Forgive me, my queen. A red priestess from As’shai has some to see you.”

––––

The doors to the throne room open, revealing a woman in red standing alone. She had red hair and dark red-ish eyes. Could this be?

The woman bows, her eyes linger on me before addressing Daenerys in Valyrian. “Queen Daeneys, I was a slave once, bought and sold, scourged and branded. It is an honor to meet the Breaker of Chains.”

“The Red Priests helped bring peace to Meereen. You are very welcome here. What is your name?” Daenerys replies.

“I am called Melisandre.”

“She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne.” Varys says from behind us. “It didn’t end well for Stannis Baratheon, did it?”

“No, it didn’t” Melisandre replies with no emotions.

Not only did it not end well for Stannis, but it also didn’t end well for his daughter who he burned alive under Melisandre’s orders, but if you ask her it was the “Lords” doing.

“You chose an auspicious day to arrive at Dragonstone.” Daenerys turns to look at Varys. “We’ve decided to pardon those who served the wrong king.”

Varys doesn’t reply and just bows his head, thankful that Daenerys hadn’t fed him to Drogon.

Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “The Lord of Light doesn’t have many followers in Westeros, does he?”

“Not yet. But even those who don't worship the Lord can serve his cause.”

“What does your Lord expect from me?” Daenerys questions.

“The Long Night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn.”

I sucked in a breath through my nose. We were getting closer to Jon’s arrival and everything else that would follow suit.

“The prince who was promised will bring the dawn.” Daenerys repeats. “I'm afraid I'm not a prince.”

“Your Grace, forgive me, but your translation is not quite accurate.” Missandei corrects from the side. “That noun has no gender in High Valyrian, so the proper translation for that prophecy would be the prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn.”

“Doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?” Tyrion comments.

“No, but I like it better.” Daenerys turns back to Melisandre. “And you believe this prophecy refers to me?”

“Prophecies are dangerous things. I believe you have a role to play, as does another. The King in the North, Jon Snow.” Melisandre explains.

“Jon Snow?” Tyrion says, shocked. “Ned Stark's bastard?”

“You know him?” Daenerys asks.

Tyrion nods. “I traveled with him to the Wall when he joined the Night's Watch.”

“And why do you think the Lord of Light singled out this Jon Snow aside from the visions you’ve seen in the flames, that is?” Varys inquired.

“As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch he allowed the Wildlings south of the Wall to protect them from great danger. As King in the North he has united those Wildlings with the northern houses so together they may face their common enemy.”

Even after hundreds of years after the events of this time, Jon’s heroism is still marveled upon. The North still remembers the King in the North.

“He sounds like quite a man.” I say.

“Summon Jon Snow. Let him stand before you and tell you things that have happened to him, the things that he has seen with his own eyes.” Melisandre urged Daenerys.

Tyrion nodded, “I can’t speak to prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow and I trusted him, and I am an excellent judge of character.”

“If he does rule the north, he would make a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do.” Tyrion added.

She glanced up from Tyrion to me, asking if it were true. I gave her a subtle nod and she turned back to Tyrion, smiling.

“Very well. Send a raven north.” She says. “Tell Jon Snow that his Queen invites him to come to Dragonstone… and bend the knee.”

–––

Our new allies arrived early in the morning, just as the sun rose over the horizon. I wore a black dress with a wool outer layer with silver clasps running from my collarbone to above my navel. The shoulders, forearms, and collar had a dragon scale pattern. It was simple, but still full of detail, but most importantly it kept me warm in this dreaded weather.The rain had stopped overnight, but the clouds had stayed, blocking any sunlight.

Everyone was gathered at the Painted Table, all ready and waiting for Daenerys to make her entrance. As I entered the room, conversation between our guests dulled down as they couldn’t look away. I didn’t have to look to know what they were thinking.

Another Targaryen?

The room was cold from the night's rain and the cold sea so I threw more wood into the hearth and stood by Missandei as we waited for Daenerys. I glanced around the room, watching as Yara, Ellaria, and Olenna talked but occasionally glanced towards me.

“They seem to be interested in you.” Missandei comments.

“I thought they’d have a bigger reaction,” I say. “Maybe a few jaw’s on the floor, or a few gasps of shock.”

Missandei chuckled. “I’m afraid all you’ll get is a few stares and gossip.”

“I guess I can take that.” I hummed.

The doors swung open as Daenerys entered. Everyone stood at attention as she made her way to the front of the room.

“I want to thank you all for making the journey to Dragonstone. Now, let us begin.”

Yara was the first to speak. “If you want the Iron Throne, take it. We have an army, a fleet, and three dragons. We should hit King's Landing now. Hard. With everything we have. The city will fall within a day.”

“If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms.” Tyrion shook his head.

Ellaria looked towards him with disgust, which was noticed by all. “It's called war. You don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding.”

“I know how you wage war. We don't poison little girls here. Myrcella was innocent.” Tyrion bit back.

Ellaria scoffed. “She was a Lannister. There are no innocent Lannisters. My greatest regret is that Oberyn died fighting for you.”

“Oberyn was a grown man. He made his choice, no one can change that. Myrcella was a child, she didn’t do anything. I think we all here know that a child isn’t responsible for their fathers sins.” I said from the sidelines, giving her a pointed look.

“That's enough. Tyrion is the Hand of the Queen. You will treat him with respect.” Daenerys reminded. Both Tyrion and Ellaria backed down, Ellaria giving me one last look. “I am not here to be the Queen of Ashes.”

“That's very nice to hear.” Olenna said from across the table. “Of course, I can't remember a queen who was better loved than my granddaughter. The common people loved her, the nobles loved her. And what is left of her now? Ashes. Commoners, nobles, they're all just children really. They won't obey you unless they fear you.”

“I'm grateful to you, Lady Olenna, for your council. I'm grateful to all of you. But you have chosen to follow me. I will not attack King's Landing. We will not attack King's Landing.” Daenerys says, genuinely.

“Then how do you mean to take the Iron Throne? By asking nicely?” Olenna asks. I smiled at the older womens sass.

Daenerys looked towards me and I stepped forward. “We will lay siege to the capital, surrounding it on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, but no food for her army or the people.”

“But we won’t use Dothraki and Unsullied.” Tyrion adds. He walks around the carved table, “Cersie will try to rally the lords of Westeros by appealing to their loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we prove her point. Our army should be Westerosi.”

“And I suppose we’re providing the Westerosi?” Ellaria clarifies.

“You are.” Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that resembled a Kraken in a longship. “Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sunspear and her Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to King’s Landing.” He walked over to the south of the map and picked up a figurine that resembled a sun. Taking both figurines, Tyrion places them at King’s Landing. “The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrell army. Two great kingdoms united against Cersie.”

“So your master plan is to use our armies? Forgive me for asking, but why did you bother to bring your own?” Olenna asks Daenerys.

Tyrion reached down, picking up a figurine that looked like an Unsullied helmet. He walked around the map. “The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades House Lannister has been the true power in Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock. Grey Worm and the Unsullied will sail for the Rock and take it.”

He stops in front of Casterly Rock, a lion figurine sitting on the Rock. Tyrion takes a moment before knocking over the lion with the Unsullied figurine to everyone's pleasure.

A clam settles and Daenerys addresses the room. “There is another matter to discuss.” Everyone looks at her, caught off guard. “I’ve come to learn that there will be an ambush in Blackwater Bay led by Euron Greyjoy under Cerseis’ order.”

“What?” Someone says.

“Your Grace,” Varys steps forward. “Forgive me, but I’ve heard no such thing to take place.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Perhaps you’re mistaken.”

“There have been no mistakes, Lord Varys.” Daenerys says. I moved to stand on Daenerys' side.

“Euron will strike at night.” I explain. “His ships are equipped with Scorpions, they’re deadly and will tare your ships to shreads.”

Yara’s face drops. “What the hell do we do? Our ships aren’t fully equipped to take on his.” Theon, behind her, is equally terrified.

“We know,” I say, calmly. “That is why I’ll be escorting you.”

“Forgive me, my dear, but what can you do?” Olenna asks.

“I’ll be on dragonback. I’ll be flying high enough to go unnoticed, but close by to help when the attack happens. There will be casualties on our end, that's certain, but this is war.” The others look at Daenerys and I in shock as they try to find the words to speak.

“But you’ve never flown into battle.” Tyrion says.

“So?” I shrug. “I’ll have to fight at one point, might as well start now.”

“My Lady, you’ve never flown out that far, you’ll be all alone.” Missandei says.

“No I won’t. I’ll have my dragon and I’ll have our new allies besides me.” I say, nodding towards Yara and Ellaria. “When I bent the knee to Daenerys and promised to get her the Iron Throne, I meant it. This is what I have to do.”

Daenerys gives me a reassuring look. She turned towards the room. “Do I have your support?”

Yara glances between Daenerys and I. “You have mine.”

“Dorne is with you, Your Grace.” Ellaria says.

Lady Olenna nods her head in agreement.

“Thank you all.” Daenerys says, somewhat relieved. “Lady Olenna, may I speak with you alone?”

Everyone bows and leaves the room. Before leaving I turned towards Daenerys, “I’ll go get ready for my departure.”

She nods. “Stay safe, sister.”

I smiled. “I will. When I’m back I’ll let you put a braid in my hair.” I say, leaving.

I stepped out into the hall and down to where my room was where everything was already ready for me. When I first had my conversation with Daenerys about the ambush I had also asked for some armor to be made for me. And with the help of the servants I was able to get into it quickly. It was simple but protective and it allowed me to ride my dragon without hurting either of us. I took two daggers that I’d also had made and placed them into their places on my hip.

Afterwards I headed to where the ships were docked and where Viserion was waiting for me. I stepped outside and saw everyone getting ready to leave. I spotted Yara and Theon were still on the docks giving orders to their crew.

“Is everything ready?” I ask.

“It is, My Lady. We’ll be leaving shortly.” Yara says.

“Good. You’ll leave first and I’ll be behind you not far off. We need to make it look like you’re alone and unsuspecting.” I explained. I glanced back at Theon who still hadn’t said anything, but had something on his mind. “Is something bothering you, My Lord?”

Theon looked taken aback, surprised that I was talking to him. “I’m not a lord.”

“You’re not?” I repeat. “You are Balon Greyjoy’s son, are you?”

He nods, not fully looking up at me.

“That makes you Lady Yara Greyjoy's brother, yes?”

He nods again, still not looking up.

“Then that makes you a Greyjoy, an Ironborn. You are every bit of a lord you are now and when you were born on Pyke, do not forget that. What’s happened has happened, no one can change that. All we can do is move forward. We Do Not Sow, yes?”

He nods, finally looking up at me.

––––

The ships had cleared out of the docks and were making their way into Blackwater Bay. I stood near the cliffs, ready to leave, when Tyrion came to stand beside me.

“What you’re doing is heroic, My Lady.” He says.

“I guess it is. I’ve never done anything like this.” I flexed my fingers. “My entire body’s buzzing. Was this what you felt before the Battle of the Blackwater and defeated Stannis’ army?”

Tyrion nodded. “It did. I felt like throwing up and shitting the floor at the same time.” We both laughed. “I had to drink a few glasses of wine to calm myself down. Perhaps it would help you, My Lady.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine. I need a clear head. But, you can save me that glass for when I get back. Then we can talk about everything that needs to be talked about. Don’t you agree?”

“I do.”

––––

It was pitch black and cold. The heat from Viserion’s body was still keeping me warm, but the cold wind blowing past my face was getting to me. Even from up there I could hear the waves crashing down which meant that I’d be able to hear when Euron’s fleet attacked.

“How you feeling, big guy? Good?” I asked Viserion. He let out a small purr, his entire body vibrating. I sighed, looking up at the sky above. The stars and the mood were my only light as we flew further out.

“Okay,” I say out loud. “Let's go over our plan. When they attack our ships we fly down and torch them, but we have to be careful not to get too close or else we’ll be caught and we have to watch out for the Scorpions. One hit with that and we’ll be recreating Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes. And keep your eye out for Euron, we need him alive.”

Viserion purrs again and I take that as a sign that he agrees with the plan. The last few weeks I’ve flown with him were good, we’d stay around Dragonstone, the furthest we’ve been was Driftmark, so this was a huge risk.

When I had explained to Daenerys my plan she was apprehensive. It was clear that she didn’t want either Viserion or I to get hurt, but she knew that we also couldn’t risk our fleet and our army.

A loud crash brought me out of my thoughts, and a glow erupted from below. The steady waves of the ocean now clashed against one another as Euron began his assault.

This was it.

“Now.” I command.

In an instant Viserion flies down past the clouds and we’re met with Eurons fleet fighting against Yara’s. Almost instantaneously my body and mind knew what to do. Without a word Viserion flew down and prepared himself.

“Dracarys.”

Fire erupts out of his mouth and lights the enemy ships below us ablaze. He lets out a loud scratch, gathering everyone's attention below before striking again. It takes them a minute before they aim their Scorpions up towards us. The massive arrows fly past us as Viserion weaves between them while burning Eurons fleet.

It doesn’t take long for the battle to die down, the air filled with the smell of burnt wood and flesh. Our fleet was damaged but Eurons was completely destroyed. Anyone who could have survived the dragonfire were either killed or taken hostage. Like planned, a Targaryen flag is flown under the Greyjoy’s on Yara’s ship, Black Wind.

–––––

Once I’d landed back on Dragonstone I quickly said goodbye to Viserion, letting him rest, and made my way down to the docks where everyone, minus Grey Worm, would be waiting for me.

Daenerys was first to see me, giving me a tight hug while the others nodded my way, smiling.

“Well done, My Lady. You’ve done well.” Tyrion says.

“Thank you, but we’ve still got work to do.”

Right on que, a ship comes into the docks. The crew works quickly to anchor down and disembark. The Ironborn and a few Dornish step off before Theon and a few of his men step off. He’s a little bruised, and he’s got dirt and ash on his face, but overall well. He bow’s towards Daenerys and I, giving me a small smile before he steps aside and allows his men in front who are dragging a beaten up Euron Greyjoy.

“We’ve got him, Your Grace.” Says Theon.

“Good,” Daenerys’ eyes never left the unconscious Euron. “Bring him to the dungeons.”

The men hull him off and everyone makes their way back into the castle. I turn over to Tyrion.

“Let’s have that drink.”

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @illsenewman @natblidaclexa @bluebirdseatblueberries

!! A/N: I will be going on a hiatus for a few months. I've got some personal stuff going on so I won't be updating any of my series including this one. I don't know when I'll be back, but when I am I'll get you guys a new chapter so hang on tight. Thank you for all the support you've given so far. I know thing are only just getting started story wise but I have a lot to do and I'll make it up to you all when I'm back.

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pumpkinbxtch · 9 months ago

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hi! I love your Apollo fics sm can I please request a fic we’re the reader is Percy’s older sister and she finds out there’s like a prophecy of her marrying Apollo and then like they eventually meet and fall and love and then what there marriage is like

𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

— part i | part ii | part iii | part iv |

☆ radiostar is playin': hot rod by dayglow...!

summary: There is a prophecy waiting for you to listen to it and although it may not be something you expect or consider possible. You know what they say about prophecies…they can't fail to come true.

warnings: none BUT long read, literally. got out of hand and i couldn't stop writing. that's bad? oh, fuck me, i'm sorry. a/n: i appreciate your request, thank you (although I think I changed it a little, sorry). HEAR ME OUT I feel like I owe a lot of love to those who love Apollo, so that's why I didn't entertain the idea of making this long. Hope you like I know it's long, but I promise I did my best to make it bearable and fun, I swear. 😭

“The sea and the sun are not far away as they look…”

They told you to stay away from the attic of The Big House, but they never told you why.

“Only he can go up”, they said, and it seemed stupid to you because he was your younger brother; you were supposed to protect him.

“It's very dangerous”, they told you while Annabeth went up, even though you were a couple of years older than her.

“Only if you lead some quest, but…” but no, because as the years went by, they made sure to remind you of your place. They told you that you were powerful, smart, and capable, because, yes, you were Poseidon's firstborn, but not the chosen one. That was Percy, your brother. Did it hurt? Yes, as an older sister, you tend to aspire to greatness and be an example, but you didn't die; you got over it.

“What does it matter? Less work for me” you said as you watched your brother's back on all the missions. Anyway, you ended up stuck in his destiny.

“His destiny. But then, what's mine?” you wondered. Then, when you took a step near Rachel Dare's cave, they stopped you too.

“It's–”

“Dangerous.” You completed the familiar phrase with a look of disgust, avoiding Chiron's eyes. He just looked at you with pity, thinking to himself that if you went in there, you could cause more trouble for your father or Olympus… Or everyone; it would be a war among all the Olympians, something they didn't need with Titan Kronos already on their heels.

Dionysus gave you his typical mocking smile, the same one that made you want to grab the can of Diet Coke and throw it right at his disgusting Christmas-reindeer-red nose.

“It would be so interesting, but we don't need it,” he said as he dragged you away from Rachel with Chiron.

You weren't stupid, you knew there was some good reason. But damn, those fossils were sneaky and never let you get to your redheaded companion, who also avoided you like the plague. Between those two things, you never managed to achieve it. Even less so after you ended up fighting on the Argo II with your new friends, straight from real Greece.

Oh, man, if you had thought Kronos was a damn old grump, Gaea was an old ball-buster. You didn't even have time to think about your future when you didn't know if you had one.

After the second war is when you started to throw in the towel about the future. You realized that the last thing you wanted to know at that moment was whether you would have to fight against twelve more Titans, return to Tartarus, or travel to Alaska again.

New Rome became your new home, and you only waited for Percy to catch up with you along with everyone else. That is, until you returned home to pack new things and didn't find your brother studying just as he should be.

— Mom? — You asked when she came back from shopping.

She gave you that look, and you cursed.

— Relax, he'll be back in a while; he just went to drop off Apollo or well, now he's Lester because apparently he's no longer a god but Zeus…

— Wow. Wait, what?

As a hero of Olympus, touching, seeing, or talking to the gods was never impossible for you; in fact, it was much more usual for your taste, and although you had been through too much already, that was new. So, you found yourself immediately traveling to Long Island Sound on the back of a Pegasus, looking for your brother. You wouldn't let Apollo, Lester, or whatever he called himself now take your brother away to distract him with his godly stuff that surely wouldn't lead to anything good.

— Where's Percy?! — You shouted in the dining hall, making the campers flinch.

Chiron got up from his seat, and from there, he smiled at you, but it only put you in a worse mood.

— Dear, it's been a long journey. Please, sit and eat with us.

You lowered your head without taking your eyes off Chiron and tightened the dagger on your belt. There was no reason for it, you knew, but you couldn't help feeling that fury after knowing everything you had been through. Percy deserved a break.

— Where's my brother? — The pause between words made the campers squirm in their uncomfortable seats. They had heard about you, about everyone. to be exact, in the third lesson of history in their camp classes.

— He left Apollo and Meg in a field not far from here — Chiron decided to sit back down and began to spread the tablecloth nervously. — He probably should have already reached home while you were flying here.

You sighed, and as you relaxed your body, everyone seemed to feel relieved.

— He has exams, Chiron — He nodded, and you made your way to the table where he was.

— In fact, there are problems, and apparently, he promised to come back this weekend — Your eyebrows furrowed again, and Dionysus laughed.

— Girl, shouldn't you be in New Rome?

— I went home for a few more things, also taking the opportunity to see my family, and it turns out that my little brother was helping an ex god who can't fend for himself, risking his studies. — You replied without looking at him — And speaking of brothers, you should control yours, Mr. D.

The god of wine snorted, and you formed a mocking smile. — Insolent.

— Miss Jackson — Chiron intervened, and you softened your gaze toward him — You can stay tonight, you know you're welcome and after all, it's too late to travel on Pegasus.

You didn't argue with them; you'd never put your pegasus in danger. So, for the first time in a long time, you returned to your cabin, the same one you shared with Percy and Tyson for so many years, and you had to admit that you missed him. At dawn, you were preparing to travel, and you left at the moment you thought no one was watching you, how wrong you were because a few meters away, Apollo was hidden behind the cabin piles, admiring you from afar.

— She… — He felt his heart tighten, and his gaze unfocused. He cursed his mortal body for how weak it was.

— Pervert! — Meg shouted, alerting the other campers who turned confused, and Apollo blushed.

— Shut up, I'm not a pervert — He smiled exaggeratedly at the others, pretending a smile and letting them know that everything was fine.

— You saw her — Said a voice behind him once Meg was far enough away to hear. The brunette turned and smiled sheepishly.

— For a second — Apollo replied, avoiding his old friend's gaze; embarrassment nibbled at his body, and it became evident once his cheeks glowed.

Chiron had never seen him… like that, so young, embarrassed, and notably imperfect, but despite Apollo's opinions about his recent change, he thought it suited him well, even found it amusing.

— You remember…

— I remember it well, Chiron — Apollo blushed even more — That's why I didn't approach her; dealing with my father's wrath is enough. Now I don't want to annoy Poseidon or I'll probably wake up dead on the lake shore tomorrow.

He played with the tips of his sneakers as buried them in the rocks on the floor; he looked like a scared little boy, but Chiron didn't judge him.

— I think you know what it means when she's around when you're close.

The ex god didn't want to pay attention, but he knew he was right.

— Although I remember who she is… there’s a problem. I don't remember how to avoid her…— Apollo's blue eyes looked directly at Chiron's, and the urgency on his face told him he was telling the truth. — If I don't know now, it's going to be harder; all I can do is hide if she's near.

— We've lasted many years with this circus, and as much as I respect the lord of the seas, I don't think this will last long. And you know what's more stubborn than a son of the sea god?

— The sea god — Apollo raised his eyebrows in annoyance, and Chiron resisted rolling his eyes.

— Fate, Apollo. You know it well, things are written. The prophecy is still there; it exists, and all we've done is delay the inevitable.

The brunette nodded with annoyance and waved his hand dismissively.

Although he wanted to pretend that he didn't care, the anxiety of what was to come ate at him. He knew very well that it wouldn't take long for you to discover what all these years had been hidden from you. If Apollo reflected better on that, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue keeping it to himself, either, 'cause those years had been torture for him. Yeah, he knew that you weren't yet mature enough for your mind to be stained with the weight of a prophecy that, unlike the others, not had to do with some quest or some imminent danger that threatened the entire world; but now you are in college, he couldn't wait for you to know.

The thing was, your father thought that the one who could be in danger was you, his precious daughter since Apollo was selfish, arrogant, and immature to have been around for eons. Poseidon could not fully explain the reason The Fates had woven such a destiny for you. So, until things had and could happen at the right time, in the right way, he warned Apollo to be close to you and he knew so well that be such an idiot idea to make him angry.

Before his thoughts could swallow him, Apollo shake them off and sigh to Chiron.

— Right now, I have a bigger problem. I think we've found something.

— Where?

— Here — Chiron frowned, and Apollo looked towards the camp's forest. — My dear friend, you have the Grove of Dodona here, in your playground.

Apollo didn't know that of all the decisions he had made in his life, avoid you was the best one he could make, because even if you had met that day or before, with the things that were about to happen to him, he wouldn't come back as half the man he was.

“Things at the moment, in time” the fates whispered in some place.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#trials of apollo #trials of apollo x reader #apollo pjo x reader #apollo pjo #apollo x you #apollo x reader #apollo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #pjo #apollo x y/n #lester papadopoulos #lester papadopoulos x you #lester papadopoulos x reader #lester papadopoulos x y/n #lester x you #lester x reader #percy jackson

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 2 months ago

Text

Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?

word count: 12.8k

————

"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"

"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief with—someone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.

"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"

Did everyone see that?

You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."

You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.

"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"

You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunter—he's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.

"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"

You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing things—whispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"

Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"

Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."

You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe him—but because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.

The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.

"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."

You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."

Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."

Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.

"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."

"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."

Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.

————

While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealings—all for the sake of a girl—you would have called them insane.

When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.

You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normal—not tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.

"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.

"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."

You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something different—you're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn much—and the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.

Or you do. And that was the scary part.

A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.

But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your name—but now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.

When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream together—and, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemic—all because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.

You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.

Except—you didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.

Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?

"Y/n?"

Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.

Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.

"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."

"You're not a bad mom, stop—"

"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."

Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.

Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.

Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.

"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.

Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.

She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."

You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."

"And what do you want?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.

She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"

Racing. The Club. The Sinners.

But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.

"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."

"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."

"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."

"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"

"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"

"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.

"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.

You sit, your frustration simmering.

Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."

A shadow of confusion crossed your face.

"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."

Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."

The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your father—the man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the club—wanting to leave felt impossible.

"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."

You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.

"Why didn't he leave, then?"

Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last race—the one that took him from us—it was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and grief—it had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.

"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had become—the danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."

You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your father—legendary racer, fearless leader—began to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.

"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."

Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneath—the fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.

Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."

You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choice—a choice you'd have to make on your own terms.

"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"

A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."

"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."

"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."

She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash tray—a habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.

For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burden—one that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.

You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilot—there was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid

"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriend—"

You face palm, "for fuck sakes."

————

"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"

"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.

You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinner—she's a Viper, though."

Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.

It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.

You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.

"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.

"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"

You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.

"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"

You shake your head, biting your lip. "I—I can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"

He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal life—definitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"

A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring up—the memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"

"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"

You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"

"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.

Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"

You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apart—your life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.

You can't let that happen.

"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.

She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourself—you'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.

"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."

Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"

You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."

Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."

Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."

But that's the problem—you can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."

Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two have—it's something real—"

"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."

Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.

Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, though—because if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.

"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, what—you're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"

You hesitate—even after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.

"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."

You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.

And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.

————

"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"

Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"

Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone again—or got caught waiting on a text—I should throw a microwave at your head."

Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Wait—hold on. I am not falling for anybody!"

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."

Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."

Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."

The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."

"I just know you too well. Face it, sis—you're hooked."

Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She's—" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.

"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."

"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.

Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.

The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."

Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."

Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"

Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.

Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"

For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"

Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.

Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.

"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."

"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken reality—that Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyah—lingered between them, heavier than any words.

"Dad shouldn't have made you—"

Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."

Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."

Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."

Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.

"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."

Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycle—a life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.

"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."

Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"

Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."

Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.

"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.

Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"

Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."

Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought

Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."

Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."

Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.

"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."

Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."

Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."

Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"

"Aliyah."

"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."

"I don't like her."

"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when I—"

Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."

"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.

Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."

Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.

She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.

————

Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest project—the stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.

You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.

Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screen—Jenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"

She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"

Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."

Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.

"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"

Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.

You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."

Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my driv—

"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.

Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.

You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.

Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.

The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusion—it all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.

Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"

Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."

You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garage—and everything it represented—would be good for you. Even if just for a moment.

You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.

The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.

"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."

Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."

"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.

The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."

Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.

"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."

You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.

"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.

Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."

She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberating—a break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.

But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.

————

Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.

The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.

Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."

Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.

Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."

Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it is—this life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."

Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.

Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.

"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.

Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."

"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.

Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.

"Aliyah, wait—"

Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chest—a foolish, fragile thing—as she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.

It was from Percy.

Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.

Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.

Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.

Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipers—and what a shame it would be to lose it.

Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.

With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.

Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.

It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.

The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.

Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.

Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.

Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.

"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.

Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.

"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"

Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."

But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.

————

Before you knew it, Friday had arrived—the day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few days—in the garage.

You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.

The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.

The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.

The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.

"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.

"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."

"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."

"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know.

Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"

Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."

Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forget—sometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."

————

Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steady—exactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.

You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at night—darker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.

You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing by—it was all you needed. Just you and the road.

And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.

You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listened—really listened—and kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.

She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.

For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meeting—unprepared, vulnerable—made your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?

But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.

The place where it all went down.

You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a wave—your father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.

You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.

You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.

You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting you—what are you going to do Y/n?

You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.

————

"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."

Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."

Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.

You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.

Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."

Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.

Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."

Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."

Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.

Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.

"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.

Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."

They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club or—?"

Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."

And then, they saw him.

He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.

Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more real—so much more dangerous.

On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."

Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.

Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"

Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrong—like they were in deeper than they had anticipated.

She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.

She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy? Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.

Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.

Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.

Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.

She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.

Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.

Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men.

But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.

Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fall—she was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.

She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.

But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.

There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.

In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatment—a taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.

Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for something—answers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.

She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment. You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.

Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?

You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.

“Who thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?” Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.

“We can’t afford any slip-ups,” the unknown man replied curtly. “Let’s keep this brief.”

The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. “We’ve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,” he said, voice smooth but full of intent. “No hiccups, no heat—just a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, they’ll be begging for more.”

"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"

You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.

Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "It’s not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."

"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.

His girl?

"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."

Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to stay focused when your girl’s a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.

A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.

But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.

Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. “And what if this operation doesn’t go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown man’s expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, voice low and chilling. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.”

You freeze.

But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.

“Hey! Who’s there?” one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.

Hunter.

He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jenna’s urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.

“We have to go,” she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girl—clearly someone Jenna trusted—was already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunter’s for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.

This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.

Jenna’s grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sight—yours.

“Stop right there!” A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.

“Hey!” you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driver’s seat.

The three of you scrambled in—a blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.

“Go, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,” Jenna commanded.

Aliyah didn’t hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.

No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, voice tight.

“How the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?” Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jenna’s way. “You didn’t tell me Greaser was cute!”

"Since when did you know how to drive?” Jenna shot back at Aliyah.

The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.

“Did you follow me here?” you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.” His voice was filled with concern. “What the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just finding out about all this today, too.”

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to tell Anton. They’re trying to destroy Brimstone.”

You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. “Yeah, this is bad. Real bad.”

As soon as Anton’s name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.

Hunter could see it in your eyes—he knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.

Up front, Jenna’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, yes, I get it! She’s cute. Can you just… shush? She’s right there,” she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.

Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it—Percy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.

The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over. She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality.

She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.

Despite everything, Jenna couldn’t ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it all—learning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldn’t just let you back in without confronting it, could she?

But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like you’d retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didn’t blame you. Tonight had been a mess.

She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.

Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldn’t help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didn’t look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.

Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunter’s car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadn’t even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.

When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.

Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his tone full of empathy. “That must’ve been a hell of a lot to take in.”

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Anton’s dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You weren’t wrong.

Your father and uncle’s deaths wasn't an accident. They’d been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.

next chapter

#jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #beetlejuice #jenna x you #jenna x reader #jenna marie ortega

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fxtalitygod · 9 months ago

Text

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

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ILLICIT ACTS

A/N: i hope yall are ready, the edging is finally over, but first, it's some jealous harry, bc he is the best.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: The temptation is higher than ever, especially when Harry has to watch you dance with his possible future business partner.

PART III. TO ILLICIT THOUGHTS AND ILLICIT TEMPTATION

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry Styles hasn’t felt ashamed in a long time. Probably in long years and he would have never thought that a business trip to his beloved Italy would be the occasion that brings him back this unwanted feeling.

He swam for a torturous thirty minutes after you left, not because he wanted to, but because he was so hard he would have not been able to walk out of the water in front of all these people. Even then, he was still semi-hard, it was enough for him to rush back to his hotel room, but by the time he stood under the shower, his cock was begging for relief again.

This alone was enough to make him feel ashamed, but the three orgasms he needed while thinking about you is what truly pushed him into his shameful pit. Not one, not two, but three times he needed to touch himself before he could get dressed without his cock bursting the seam of his pants.

Standing in front of the mirror he fixes the collar of his black shirt, taking his reflection in. What will you think when you first see him tonight? Will you notice that his hair is different now? Are the sunglasses too much? And what about the earring?

Those are for sure too much. But part of him wants to see your reaction to it, because one time he heard you talking to Jenny from finance during lunch and you mentioned how hot earrings could be on guys.

Fuck, this is bad. He can’t get you out of his mind and it’s not just dirty thoughts anymore.

Reaching for his cologne he squirts some onto his exposed neck and chest, his shirt is open enough to give a glimpse of his necklace, something he has caught you looking at on some occasions before.

He checks the time and sees that it’s six o’clock sharp, so he has to pick you up to make it to the restaurant on time. He rolls his shoulders, slips his phone and wallet into his light colored pants and then walks out of his room, over to your door. Fisting his hand he knocks confidently three times and then waits.

He hears you shuffling around inside and his pulse quickens instantly even though he hasn’t even seen you. But then the door opens and he realizes that he was a whole different man just a second ago.

The moment he lays his eyes on you, it feels like all the air gets knocked right out of his lungs. You have a black dress on, the top is like a corset, pushing your breasts up just enough to plant the most obscene thoughts into his mind that would haunt him not just tonight, but for the rest of his life. There are those thin, almost nonexistent straps running over your shoulders and he can already imagine himself snapping them with his teeth. From underneath the top the silkiest looking fabric runs down your hips, taunting him with what’s hiding underneath and how badly he wants to put his hands… and mouth on it. The skirt reaches to your mid-thighs, leaving most of your deliciously soft looking legs uncovered and his thoughts immediately snap to an image of having them on his shoulders as he—“

“Earring,” he hears you say, eyes focused on the dangling cross hanging from his left ear. He catches your chest rising heavily and he doesn’t miss the way you run your tongue over your lips.

“Too much?” he asks with a smug smirk. You shake your head. He offers you his arm and you hesitantly, but lock a hand around his bicep as you pull the door closed behind you. This one touch sends a shiver down your spine and Harry feels a fire igniting inside of him.

Walking towards the elevator you both think about the same thing. You’re fucked.

Fabio and Vittore knows all the best places, so you never doubted they would choose the right one for tonight’s outing as well. The place is called GINO’s, during the day it’s a fancy restaurant and then after about nine in the evening it transforms into a bar that has a dance floor as well. It’s classy, tasty and probably way too expensive for your budget, but you’re not paying tonight.

One drink follows the other after dinner, the four of you are having a blast and with the Trevisani brothers present the gut wrenching desire you’ve been fighting is somewhat easier to contain. Harry still looks fucking delicious with his open shirt and dangling earring, but it would be way harder if it was just the two of you.

You were afraid of what it would be like to face Harry after what happened on the beach. How could one go on after what you experienced? But it seems like Harry has forgot about it, because not even the slightest sign of discomfort could be seen on him all evening.

What’s more, he’s been giving you looks that get you flustered, it doesn’t seem like Harry found what happened earlier awkward at all, his darkened eyes often wander to your dress and he watches your every move, always making sure you have everything you need.

The music is in full blast by 10 pm, people are dancing in front of the DJ’s setup, the lights have been dimmed and there’s alcohol everywhere.

Fabio Trevisani is exactly how you imagine a true Italian man. He is in his thirties, thick, dark hair and beard, golden skin and nice charm, he has them all. He’s never scared to bring some flirting into his words, he has definitely given you a few hints that he finds you appealing, but you’ve been just ignoring these. He is a handsome man, but not the one you truly want these days.

Tonight, thanks to all the drinks, you feel a lot looser and open to Fabio’s flirting, for some reason. With Harry on your left and Fabio on your right, your attention is torn between the two directions, but while Harry is more quiet and reserved, Fabio likes to take the lead and keep you entertained, making you laugh with his jokes and getting you flustered by his compliments.

“Amore mio, vieni a ballare con mi!” Fabio begs you, taking one of your hands. You notice Harry stiffening beside you, but all you can do is laugh in confusion, since you have no idea what Fabio just said.

“What?”

“Dance with me!” he translates his request, already standing up, tugging you towards the dance floor. You don’t have much chance to protest, you find yourself standing from your seat and following him into the dancing crowd.

Somehow it’s no surprise that Fabio is a great dancer. With all the booze in your system, you can’t help but laugh as he keeps twirling you around, pulling you against him, dipping you back, he does all the moves he knows.

He keeps flirting with you, though half the time he is talking in Italian, it’s more like funny than hot for you right now, you’re just enjoying the moment.

That is right until you spot a pair of familiar green eyes that appear more like black as Harry approaches the two of you through the dancing people.

Your stomach drops to the floor as he moves towards you like a hungry tiger, but you manage to keep moving to the music, Fabio dancing right behind you with his hands on your waist. When Harry finally reaches you, he leans to Fabio’s ear and you wish you could hear what he says to him, because a second later Fabio’s hands slip off your waist and you catch him nodding at Harry before he leans over to you.

“Thanks for the dance,” he says, trying to talk over the music. You don’t even get to reply, the crowd swallows him and you’re left there.

With Harry.

When you turn around you find him standing there, his eyes practically swallowing you up whole. He steps closer, hands finding your waist and with one swift movement he turns you around, pulling your back against his chest and you can’t help but gasp when your ass meets his groin, for the second time in a day.

Everyone around you is moving to the rhythm while the two of you are standing still, only Harry’s hands moving from your hips to your stomach and even through the corset you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Did you enjoy dancing with him?”

His mouth is right next to your ear and you swear you could feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he talked.

“Yes,” you breathe out, but you couldn’t even recall a memory of Fabio’s dancing even if your life depended on it. Not when your body is melting against Harry’s hard chest and you can feel every bit of warmth that radiates from him. When you feel his nose bury into your hair and his hands slip just a tad bit lower on your body, you lose control and let your head roll back to his shoulder.

“Do you want me to bring him back so you can keep dancing with him?”

His hips start to move finally and he makes you move with him, all while your chest is rising and falling heavily, giving him the best view of your cleavage from above, he can’t tear his eyes off the way your breasts curve so deliciously, how your soft, exposed skin shimmers from the thin layer of sweat, he wants to lick you up from where your top starts up to your jaw. He is dying to taste you, your skin, your lips, your pleasure…

You shake your head at his question, your hands snapping to his hands on you, covering them with a desperate urge to keep them planted on your body. Not that Harry ever plans to take his hands off you.

“Do you want me to stay here with you, Y/N?” he asks, his nose running down the side of your neck as he breathes in your sweet scent.

“Yes!” you gasp, when his hips move forward and once again, you can feel his hardening cock pressing into your ass.

He groans behind you when you push back against him more, his cock throbbing already and he can only hope no one will interrupt this moment. You’re swaying to the music, your head is still resting on his shoulder and maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s just your uncontrollable desire for him, but your courage bursts and as you hold his right hand you tug it up on your body, over your stomach and then your chest, you feel his shaky breath on your heated skin and his fingers hook into the top of your corset. If he wanted to, he could just tug it down and bare you in front of his greedy eyes, but he is way too possessive, if another man laid eyes on what he thinks of as his, Hell would break loose and Harry would be probably thrown out of here.

So instead, he just enjoys that tiny inch of extra skin that he can feel underneath the top of your dress and he gives in to the temptation and presses his lips to your neck, his tongue meeting your skin, finally tasting you.

“Fuck,” you moan at the sensation and your other hand flies back, fingers dipping into his hair and you give him a rough tug that earns you a bite from him.

Harry is seeing red. His hands grab onto your hips and twirls you around confidently, arms locking around you so tight not even a pin could fit between the two of you. Your wandering hands run up his biceps, over his shoulders, arriving to the base if his neck and you comb your fingers through his hair from the nape of his neck, grinning wide when you feel his chest vibrating against yours from the groan that escapes his mouth.

He leans back, just enough to press his forehead against yours and you know he is fighting his last restraints, this is the moment that will decide it all, if you go further or step back behind the safety of your boundaries. You’re ready to give in, you were always ready, so it’s fully just on Harry.

And right when you think it’s going to happen someone bumps into you from behind and it’s like the bubble has been popped. Harry helps to steady you, but when you look into his eyes you can tell he has pulled back.

Disappointment washes over you as you move back, putting a bit of distance between the two of you. It looks like his mind is racing and you’d die to actually know what he’s thinking about, but he remains silent and you’re back to square one.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. At one point you go back to the table, have another drink and you listen to the men talking while you keep just reliving the moments with Harry on the dance floor.

Harry appears to be confident and over what happened, but in his head he is screaming. Mostly at himself for not giving in, the temptation was painfully cruel, he was so close to snapping and taking what he’s been fantasizing about for so long, but when you got pushed it was like his consciousness were awakened and he realized that he was playing a dangerous game.

He truly thought he made the right decision when you moved back to the table, but when he saw you so zoned out and the disappointment on your face was obvious, he wished he could go back in time and do the opposite.

It was past one when you left the place and parted ways with Fabio and Vittore, heading back to your hotel that was only a ten minute walk. Now you’re walking side by side and the silence is deafening.

Still drunk on the alcohol and the scene with Harry, you get into the elevator with a pouty look that doesn’t fly over Harry. He is staring at you as the elevator moves up and the tension rises in a blink of an eye, for a second you think he’ll break now, but then the elevator stops with a soft ding! and you walk out with a new wave of disappointment. Because if he didn’t give in before, there’s no way he will now.

You reach your room and swiping the keycard you open the door. You step inside and turn around, seeing him standing there with his hand hidden in his pockets as he stares back at you with an unreadable look.

“Well, good night, Harry,” you breathe out and he nods at you in reply, there’s a second long pause before you move to close the door.

Right when the lock is about to click closed, Harry snaps a hand against it and pushes open again. You suck on your breath as the door flies back and it reveals him, his darkened gaze practically lighting you on fire. There’s half a second of hesitation, it’s like in the elevator, but this time it ends up completely different.

It happens so fast, yet your body reacts instantly. Harry moves inside with one swift movement, he grabs you by your face and kisses you so hard you forget your name, your past and present. Everything is gone, it’s just you and him.

Harry pushes you against the wall and kicks the door closed, all while his mouth devours yours, making up for all the times he chose not to. He licks into your mouth, hips pressing forward to show you just how hard he is already and you can only hope this time you’ll get to feel him inside you.

You move further into the room, bumping into the bathroom door, a chair and then you end up pressed against the desk, your legs open, welcoming him between them. You take just one moment to breathe and you’re about to pull him back, but he stops and you’re afraid he’ll end this dream way too soon.

“Y/N, I want your consent,” he rasps out, breathing heavily.

“You have it, you have anything you want!” you beg him, clawing at his chest, trying to pull him back onto you, but he is still resisting.

“No. I want you to say it loud and clear that you want this, that you want me. I can’t… I can’t have you wake up and freak out about what we’re about to do.”

Fuck, he is so insanely hot even when he is asking for your consent like the gentleman that he is. He knows that you’ve drunk and he would never take advantage of you. The drunken buzz has cleared out of your mind mostly, the walk home did wonders and you can answer him confidently with certainty.

“Harry, I want you. I wanted you before and I will want you in the morning. You have my consent.”

He draws in a deep breath with his eyes closed and when he exhales, his gaze finally finds yours and you know there’s no going back from now.

He throws himself at you as if he’s been starving for months, his mouth attacks your lips, he bites and sucks while his hands work to push the silky skirt up, revealing more of your legs. With his hands he urges you to wrap them around his waist and when you do that, he lifts you up with ease, moving over to the bed and throwing you onto the mattress, following you instantly, the weight of his body pinning you down. He buries his face into your neck, licking his way down to your chest and then he finally makes his fantasy reality when he takes the strap of your dress between his teeth and pulls on it just hard enough to make the string snap. A surprised gasp slips through your lips and then you can’t help but chuckle when he snaps the other one as well.

“Insane. You’re making me insane, Y/N,” he groans against your chest, his hands desperately trying to rid you of the dress, but it’s a bit tricky.

Pushing on his chest you make him kneel up and you follow him, turning around you show him the row of clasps in the back. He unhooks them in two rounds, the corset becomes loose around you, allowing it to fall and pool around your waist. Harry’s arms snake around you from behind, pulling you against his chest, his hands groping your breasts in an instant.

“Oh fuck!” you moan, head rolling back to his shoulder as his mouth kisses along your shoulder and neck, his hands exploring your body relentlessly. Arching your back you push your ass back and it meets his groin, the outline of his cock bursting through his pants. Reaching back you palm him, give him a few squeezes, feeling him up and he involuntarily thrusts into your touch.

Harry releases you just enough so you can get rid of the dress, leaving you only in your lacy thong, while he is still fully dressed, so you take over control for a bit and turning around you snap his shirt open, buttons flying around the room. You surprised not just Harry with this but yourself as well, but you don’t dwell on it long, while Harry shrugs his shirt off you work on his pants and moments later he is sitting on the mattress in front of you in only his underwear. You climb over to him, mouth finding his as you settle on his lap and he moves forward, laying you onto the mattress, his hips pushing against yours and you can’t stop yourself from grinding against his bulge.

“Oh God,” he breathes out and matching your movements he starts thrusting forward as well.

Reaching down his hand slips under the lacy fabric and he cups your wet and heated crotch, his palm pressing against your clit just right.

“Fuck, you are so wet. All for me?”

“Yes! Harry, please!”

“Please what?” he asks against your lips, his hand teasing you between your legs.

“More! I need more!”

You catch a pleased smirk on his lips before he pushes two fingers into you, making you gasp for air when they curl inside you and then move out, just to do it over and over again. His palm is drenched already and it feels like you’ve been drugged when the heel of his palm presses against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

In the meantime his clothed cock is now rubbing against your thigh, he is seeking relief too as he keeps grinding against your, looking for any kind of friction.

“Harry, I need… I want your cock, please!” you beg, barely able to form words.

“Patience, I want to taste you first.”

“No, I need you to fuck me already!”

“Just one taste, baby, I’ll be quick,” he promises as he pulls his hand out from between your legs and sitting back onto his heels he drags your thong down your legs, throwing it across the room before pushing your knees apart, taking one quick look at you all spread out in front of him before he leans forward and latches onto your clit with no mercy.

He keeps his word and doesn’t spend too much time with his face buried between your legs, but he makes the most of it, licking and sucking, fucking you with his tongue. When he comes back up and kisses you and you can taste yourself on him.

You work together to rid him of his last item of clothing and when you see his cock spring free from its restraints your mind blanks and all you can think about is choking on his dick. Harry doesn’t protest when you sit up and then settle so you can kiss the leaking tip while you wrap a hand around the base. The sounds he makes when you take him into your mouth are proof that you’re doing it right. Each time you go down you try to move lower and lower, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can, your eyes are watering and your spit is dripping down his cock, but it’s exactly what he wants, to see you struggle, because he is so big but you’re just so eager to please him. He cradles the back of your head and when you’re down one time he gives your head a gentle push, just enough to reach your limit, he can feel you gagging and he keeps you there just one second longer than you would have stayed on your own before letting you come up for air. When he sees your face, your teary eyes, puffy lips and glistening chin he pulls you in by your neck and kisses you rough, pushing you back onto the bed so he can get on top of you without clothes this time. He groans when you reach down and wrap your hands around him, teasing him some more.

“Condom?” he asks and your first reaction is a disapproving cry.

“Wanna feel you.”

“Are you on the pill, baby?” he asks, a moan slipping through his lips when you move his cock so the head pokes at your clit.

“Yes. Please!”

Normally there’s no way he would have sex without a condom, but he is just as desperate to feel you fully as you are so he lets himself have it this one time.

With one last kiss he sits back onto his heels and hooks his arms under your legs, pulling them up, onto his shoulders like he has imagined it so many times before. Kissing the inside of your ankle he grabs his cock with a steady hand and positions himself before slowly pushing in, his dick filling you up, stretching you out perfectly until all of him is inside you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans stilling, closing his eyes for a moment before he looks down at you. There’s endless passion in his gaze, but there’s something soft too. Before you could figure it out he starts moving and you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.

At first he starts off kinda slow, but as he can feel you getting used to his size he starts to pick up his pace and soon enough, he is pounding into you. It’s sloppy and rough at the same time, you’ve turned into goo and he is the one holding you together. Soon he switches the position up and comes down on top of you, your feet hooking behind him, allowing him to go even deeper.

He keeps kissing you, praising you, telling you how good you are in every possible way.

“My good girl, taking me so well.”

“You were made for me, Y/N, you feel so fucking good.”

“Look at that pussy, gripping my cock tight and delicious.”

Every time he speaks up you can only just moan in reply and tighten your hold around him.

When he pulls back you cry out in protest, but he just chuckles, helping you up and onto all four, his hands circling your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh before his cock finally pushes into you from behind. You try your best to match his rhythm, but he is definitely doing all the moving, you can barely hold yourself up at this point. When Harry notices how much you’re struggling he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you up so you can lean back onto his chest, giving your arms a break as he fucks into you. You wiggle around for a bit until you can turn your head enough to lock your lips with his.

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan into his mouth and it just makes him go even harder and adding to the sensation one of his hands move to your clit and you’re convinced he is trying to kill you.

“Come for me, baby. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he pants.

His words push you over the edge and you come, hard and loud, tightening your walls around him, which tips him over as well. He pulls out just in time, his cum squirting onto your folds and lower stomach while his orgasm washes over him in waves.

With your hands on his thighs you let your head fall forward, trying to catch your breath and Harry kisses you between your shoulder blades, pretty much doing the same. When he moves back you lean forward until you can put your arms down onto the mattress. You hear him walk into the bathroom and soon he returns with a damp towel, gently cleaning you up so you can finally flop onto the bed comfortably.

He throws the towel to the side and lies next to you, in all of his naked glory and though you feel like you have no energy left, you just want to stay awake for as long as possible and drink in the sight of Harry Styles in your bed.

“We should talk about it,” he murmurs softly as he reaches out and runs his hand down the side of your face.

“I know,” you agree.

“In the morning,” he adds and you nod. He then pulls you closer, into his arms and you happily curl up against his side as he pulls the covers over the two of you. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and you fall asleep listening to his steady breathing.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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kasagia · 7 months ago

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Dancing with the devil III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: You learn about your friend's terrifying future and promise yourself to somehow help her avoid her terrible fate. Na-Baron and you have a little... argument and a new, intriguing lord appears in society—a man who made a huge impression on you. Everyone is jealous. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I listened to High Infidelity and new Gracies Abrams album while writing this one; quote from High Infidelity by Taylor; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~

"Even on Arrakis it's not that hot." You're grumbling, walking with your friend in a group of other ladies. You fan yourself with your white feather fan, trying to cool yourself down a bit, but Giedi Prime's black sun doesn't make it any easier for you.

"I don't know. I've never been there. Or anywhere. It's amazing how Harkonnens can go out all dressed in black and not have a single drop of sweat on their skin."

"Nothing about the Harkonnens is fascinating." You say as you reach the training field. You look for Lord Luwael, but you can't see your almost-fiance anywhere. But your eyes immediately fall on Feyd-Rautha.

It was irritating how quickly you recognised his bald head among the Harkonnens he surrounded himself with. The generals fought with him and each other, putting on quite a show for the ladies passing by. However, the real show began when Na-Baron started fighting with his older brother.

People began to gather, watching the sparring of the two heirs of the Harkonnen legacy. You flinched as Rabban let out an almost animalistic, warlike roar, just like your friend. You glanced in her direction and frowned, seeing her paling as their fight became more and more brutal.

"Y/F/N, are you alright?" Your friend opens her mouth to say something back at your question, but just then Lord Luwael appears next to you and steals all your attention.

"Brutes. They behave like animals. They have no sense of respect for human life and health. I don't want to spread rumours, but I heard that they mutilate... their wives and take pleasure in their pain. This is how they express their love. Sick nation."

You nod, watching the fighting display in front of you. You might think that the Rabban beast, as a scary brother more trained and familiar with fighting, would win against Na-Baron, but this is not the case. The men fight evenly until Count Rabban loses his guard in favour of stronger attacks.

Na-Baron takes advantage of this immediately. Just a few of his dodges are enough for Count Rabban to get irritated. He storms at his younger brother mindlessly, giving Na-Baron a chance to attack. He makes a few tactical moves that require more common sense than strength, and he stabs his brother in the shoulder. Rabban screams as he tries to wriggle out of his brother's blade, and Feyd helps him by kicking him in the back and sending him to his knees. You shiver as he glances at you briefly before turning his attention back to the fight with his brother.

The fight is in full swing when suddenly one of Count Rabban's daggers, instead of hitting his brother, hits one of the Harkonnen soldiers. The man is stabbed in the stomach, his insides spilling out from the sloppily inflicted wound.

It doesn't bother you. In fact, you don't react at all to this act of brutality except for wrinkling your nose as the smell of Harkonnen's black blood and entrails hits you. You feel a chill only when you catch Na-Baron's careful gaze on you.

And then, suddenly, your friend faints next to you at the sight of a dying man.

"Y/F/N!" You scream, catching her before she hits the ground. Lord Luwael helps you lay her down gently, and you fan her, pushing the man away from your unconscious friend as you try to provide her with more air and space.

You're too busy fanning your friend to notice how the crowd shifts its attention to the two of you. Even more so to notice one of the Harkonnens approaching you.

"Step aside." Rabban's voice reaches you as he tries to make his way through the crowd. He stands over you and your friend, watching you carefully before he speaks again. "I will take care of my fiancée." He tells you coldly, suggesting you leave. Your eyes widen as you realise who he's talking about. Your gaze shifts from your friend to the man next to you. Rabban was her fiancé. Poor Y/F/N.

"I am more than capable of taking care of my friend, Count Rabban. Besides, I doubt that the sight and smell of blood will help her recover." You tell him with an equally cold tone of voice, not moving away from your friend's side. You turn your gaze towards her, ignoring Rabban's furious look.

"I said..."

"Thank you for your concern, but I assure you she will be fine in a minute. Today's weather must have overwhelmed her." You interrupt him, giving him an equally determined look, not moving an inch from your spot or reacting to Harkonnen's obvious attempt to intimidate you.

The man moves furiously towards you, but before he can even lay a pinky finger on you, his wrist is caught in a tight grip by his younger brother. The men stared furiously at each other for several moments, challenging each other.

"Rabban. You heard Lady Y/N. Your help is not needed. You should go to a medic to have your wound treated." Na-Baron growls, never taking his stern glare off of him. And as much as you despise the Harkonnen heir, you can't deny that right now you're grateful to him for keeping his brother away from you and Y/F/N.

The older brother gives you one last hostile glare before pushing his brother's hand away from him. He retreats and walks away from you, barking at the crowd of onlookers to disperse.

Na-Baron kneels on the other side of your friend and lifts her a little higher into a sitting position. You notice that she actually starts to take deeper breaths due to the change in position. You sit there next to her for a few minutes before you muster up the courage to speak.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, little swan." He replies with a small smirk, showing you his array of black teeth. Which, surprisingly, bothers you much less than previously.

You stare at him for a moment, much longer than you would usually allow yourself, and he notices. You lean towards him and, for some reason you can't explain, reach up to wipe the blood from his cheek.

Feyd flinches as your gloved hand touches his skin. He curses the fact that the small, lacy material prevents him from feeling your skin against his.

And he decides to do something with it.

He turns his head, grabs your glove with his teeth, and removes the fabric from your hand. You shiver when you see him put the glove in his pocket before taking your hand in his.

He traces a streak of blood from one of his soldiers with your finger, collecting the blood on your finger. His full lips wrap around your finger, sucking out the black liquid. You bite your lip, feeling his tongue wrap around your fingers as he sucks on it like the most delicious candy. You hold your breath and close your eyes, breaking eye contact with him as you remember how wonderful that tongue felt inside your core.

You only dared to open your eyes when he left your finger alone, and you felt his full lips press against the skin of your hand.

And that was your undoing.

His white irises, under the influence of the Giedi Prime sun, gave way to his black pupils, which were staring at you all the time, like at a sacred image. However, you both knew very well that you were far from saintly. Just like him.

And just when Feyd thinks you're going to lean in to press your lips against his, to be the one to initiate the kiss for the first time, you suddenly pull away from him as if scalded.

Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows, not knowing what's going on, but everything becomes clear when he hears the hated voice of Lord Luwael.

“I brought some water. And sobering salts from one of the ladies." The man says, walking over to the two of you. You give him a beautiful smile, and Feyd's heart shrinks with jealousy.

He instinctively wants to reach for his sword and plunge it straight into Lord Luwael's heart. But he can't do it because he knows that the moment he kills... the obstacle, Feyd will lose any chance of gaining your favour and heart. And all he wanted was for you to smile at him as beautifully (and more sincerely) as you would at that flea not worthy of your attention.

"Thank you, my lord." Feyd notices the difference in how you thank this man.

You're telling him this because it's appropriate, because it's polite of you. Not that you really needed his help, because Feyd was the first to calm you down and take care of your friend. It was Feyd who you thanked sincerely, not that toad in the emperor's crown.

"Na-Baron, it's... very noble of you to help in this situation." Lord Luwael says, and Feyd clenches his jaw slightly at the mockery in the man's voice.

"It's my duty to take care of my guests." Feyd replies in a neutral tone of voice, taking the salts from you and helping you wake up your friend.

"We won't disturb you anymore and distract you from… more important duties."

"Believe me, lord, I have no more important matters on my mind than this." Feyd replies firmly, not moving away from his place for an inch.

The men stared at each other for a long moment, giving each other deadly looks. You roll your eyes and try to quickly think of something to keep their attention. And quickly, before the pseudo-alpha male fight breaks out.

"Could one of you gentlemen help me carry her to her room? I believe she will be better off there than here." You ask, giving them a worried, pleading look.

"Of course, my lady." They both answered at the same time. They look at each other furiously for a moment, but Feyd wins the battle of speed and reflexes and grabs your friend in wedding style. You ignore the uncomfortable tickle in your chest and the lump in your throat and nod to Lord Luwael.

You and Na-Baron walk through the halls of the palace in silence. Without a word, he follows you into your friend's room and places her on her bed.

"Thank you." You say, expecting him to leave as soon as possible. But he has other plans for you.

"Do you really think you can be happy with him? Your little lord?" He asks you mockingly, leaning against the dresser and crossing his arms.

"My happiness is definitely not your concern." You reply furiously, not caring about titles, being polite, or anything else.

He had no right to question your decisions, decisions on which your entire future life depended. He didn't even know you! He had no right to judge what was better for you. And it definitely wasn't him.

"So you voluntarily force yourself to spend time with this weak little man? Why? Because maybe one day in the distant future he will become emperor?" He asks incredulously, laughing at your stupidity. You feel your anger bubble up inside you the longer you look at the bastard's smug face. And this time, you're not going to hold back or even pretend to be nice.

"He will become emperor. There are no ifs or maybes. He is the emperor's cousin and the first male descendant in his bloodline. As soon as Irulan's father dies, he will ascend to the throne. And I will become empress!" You speak with complete conviction and stomp your foot in anger at the last sentence, emphasising your rage.

"Is that all you want? Is that your ambition? Become an empress? Because I promise you, little swan, if your weak lord, fainting at the sight of the blood and fighting of REAL MEN, becomes emperor, I will gather my troops and overthrow him. What will you do then, little swan? Will you try to seduce me to keep the crown? Maybe then the idea of becoming my wife won't be so repulsive to you, hm? Maybe then you can allow yourself to fully enjoy my touch without running away from me every time I make you cum and scream my name? Maybe then you will realise that you belong only to me, and not to any Atreides or Luwael?"

You shiver as he presses you against the wall. He's so close to you that you feel his chest brush against yours with every fast, furious breath he takes. You glance at your friend, making sure she's still unaware of your conversation, and shift your gaze back to his icy-blue irises.

"That's not your damn business." You snap at him angrily, hoping you can stop yourself from punching him in the face, but it seems like a more and more difficult task with every second you talk to him. As well as refraining from silencing him by kissing those stupid, beautiful, tempting lips of his.

"It is my damn business. From that night in the garden, everything that's involving you is my damn business. And even earlier.

You are everything I want, everything I desire. I think day and night about that sweet pussy of yours, about how perfectly you would welcome me inside you, how beautiful you would look on the throne by my side. What about you, Y/N? How many times have you screamed my name into your pillow in the middle of the night? How many times have you wished that your fingers playing with that needy clit were mine? How many times have you imagined riding me on the emperor's throne?" He asks in that hoarse, sinful voice of his, sending an electric shiver right through you to your needy core. You shiver when he nuzzles against your temple, inhaling your scent. You close your eyes and sigh shakily as his hand goes to your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes. "How many times have you wished that I was your fiancé instead of Atreides?"

For a moment, you freeze, only able to look into his eyes as he hits your sweet spot with every question. Fortunately, the moment he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss, you push him away from you and take a few steps back. You take a few calming breaths and shoot him an angry, exasperated look.

"Let's make it perfectly clear." You say it firmly, taking a step closer to him with each sentence you say. "We are not engaged. We are not courting each other. We are not even friends or have the same group of friends. We have nothing in common with each other anymore besides that one mistake, so live your life and leave me alone. Just as you wanted."

You stare at each other for a few long moments, both of you breathing heavily with anger. His bright blue eyes are agitated. Like the ocean in a storm. You see how he clenches his fists, how the vein in his arm trembles, and for a moment you are tempted to cross the distance between you and the feeling of his hands on you.

But you couldn't.

He was a Harkonnen. Your mother would kill you for rejecting such an honourable suitor as Lord Luwael for… one of those bald brutes.

"Is that what you want?" He asks in that husky voice that should make you feel repulsed, but all you feel is a shiver of excitement as you remember all the things he whispered in your ear in the darkness of Giedi Prime.

"Yes. It is." You answer stubbornly, still sticking to your opinion. This will be best for you. You must focus on maintaining Lord Luwael by your side. Maybe later, when you're married, you can somehow have an affair with Feyd, and that way you'll keep him away from Irulan.

But one thing was certain: You will end this season as a wife. No matter what.

"Well then." He replies coldly and turns on his heel. He closes the door behind him with a loud bang, not even giving you a second glance.

You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your chest and forget about this whole conversation. You didn't lose anything. You just got rid of an unwanted suitor. Right? Then why do you feel… so strange? Like doing something you shouldn't do…

"Y/N?" Your friend's voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Oh, thank God, you finally woke up." You say and sit on the edge of her bed. "Why didn't you tell me you were engaged to… to Rabban?" The girl tenses at your question. You see her become more nervous and start playing with the edge of the blanket in frustration.

"I... I hoped that since nobody knows it wasn't true. But... I..." She pauses, and your heart clenches when you see her on the verge of tears.

"Come here, my girl." You say and lean in to hug her tightly. She buries her head in the crook of your neck and shivers as she tries to calm down. "I promise you, I will get you out of this marriage."

"You can't. The Harkonnen took over my home planet. It was destroying my nation, family, or marriage between me and Rabban."

"Oh, my poor girl. There must be a way..."

"There is not!" She interrupts you furiously and pulls away from your embrace. Her eyes are red, and unshed tears remain in her eyes. "Not everyone has a life as perfect and beautiful as you, Y/N. But don't you dare judge me! Or pity me! I do it for my people, for my family. I... it's noble... and maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all..."

You look at her with great compassion. You reach over and place a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but before you can say anything, there's a knock on the door.

Before you can speak, several Harkonnen servants enter. Most of them have some small crates and boxes that they put on the dresser.

"The Na-Baron sent us with this, my lady. We are here to ensure that the Giedi Prime sun will not pose a threat to your health, Lady Y/F/N."

Without knowing why, you feel a sudden wave of anger at their words. How dare he do such a thing? You try not to worry so much; you even tell yourself that your reaction is absurd, but your mood worsens even more when you see your friend's eyes become a little brighter and a genuine smile appear on her face.

You stare blankly at the maids leaving, wondering why the hell you are jealous of such a meaningless gesture from a man you don't even want.

"Na-Baron seems completely different from his brother. At least he's honorable. And he is not brutal towards his concubines. It is true that servants and soldiers die at his hands, but he only kills the incompetent ones. I feel like he's just doing it to preserve his reputation in his uncle's eyes. Oh. If only he could become my husband and not this... beast."

"Concubines?" You ask confusedly, not remembering seeing him with anyone else... not since then.

"Haven't you seen them? The whole society is talking about them. Lately, he seems to keep himself out of their company. It makes sense since he's looking for a wife, but still, they said that these women were created for his pleasure. They're kind of living robots. I don't know how much of this is true, and even if it were, Na-Baron seems to care about them."

You become even more mad, even though you shouldn't. You're almost engaged to Lord Luwael, and less than half an hour ago, you told Feyd that there would be nothing between you two and that you wanted him to leave you alone. If Y/F/N took care of Feyd, you wouldn't have to worry about Irulan marrying him. So why did you feel sick just thinking about this turn of events? Or that he has concubines?

You had no idea. And it bothered you greatly.

"Why didn't he propose?" Your mother asks you, preparing you for the last ball on Giedi Prime.

A week has passed since your last conversation with Na-Baron, and since then, you have only seen him from a distance on ceremonial occasions. As you wished, he left you alone. And you fucking hated it that his attention was taken away from you like that.

"I have no idea." You snap at her in frustration as she fixes your makeup.

During this week, you have been eagerly awaiting Lord Luwael's proposal. And it was a pointless wait. You smiled at him, flirted, tempted, and seduced him, and you did everything in your power to get him to pull himself together and propose. But he didn't. He didn't even come close to doing this once.

And honestly, you were fucking fed up with it.

You were tired of pretending to be his sweet little princess who needed a man to defend herself. You were tired of pretending to be disgusted by the violence, tired of agreeing with him, and constantly admiring things that didn't really matter. This week spent solely in Lord Luwael's presence has taken a toll on your psyche, and even more so was the fact that Feyr-fucking-Rautha Harkonnen was right. You toiled alongside Lord Luwael. But you'll be damned if you give up now and are left with no suitor.

Your mother lets you go to the ball alone while she busies herself with packing your things, or rather, drinking wine in your rooms and making sure the maids take everything you need with you. So you walk alone through the corridors of Giedi Prime and end up in the ballroom.

The Harkonnen palace is as empty to you as their entire planet. You can see enormous wealth in the city, but apart from that, there is absolutely nothing here. Not counting military bases, training rooms, and laboratories, of course. Emphasis on the development of the army and the economy. So you don't wonder why Na-Baron mainly shows interest in all kinds of weapons and bloodshed.

You look at the people around you, carefully observing the men and women flirting with each other. With a disturbing feeling of anger and jealousy, you notice Y/F/N dancing with Feyd. And as much as you shouldn't care, you want to go up to your friend and claw her eyes out when you notice how she makes Feyd laugh at something she says.

"An interesting couple, isn't it?" You tense as Irulan's voice echoes behind you. You nod at her and take the champagne from a passing servant.

"Rather unexpected. Besides, it won't last long. She is marrying his brother. And they don't match each other at all. You don't have to be jealous of your future fiancé, princess." You banter with her, sipping your champagne as you both watch the dancing couple intently.

At some point, Na-Baron's gaze falls on the two of you. And while Princess Irulan looks away, embarrassed, you raise an eyebrow at the man, giving him a defiant look. A small smile appears on his face before he turns his full attention back to your friend, and suddenly you need something much stronger than this champagne to survive this evening.

"Lady Y/N, I believe that of the two of us, I'm not the jealous one here." She says this with a mischievous smirk, watching you in your wordless exchange with Na-Baron.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at this little insinuation, afraid of what this viper could learn about the relationship between you and Na-Baron. After all, it wasn't like you two had your... encounters in private places.

The mere thought of being seen with Na-Baron in this compromising situation by none other than the witch you once considered your friend makes you lust for murder and bloodshed. You think you've spent way too much time on Giedi Prime.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, princess. I already have my lord and suitor, and I assure you, it is not Feyd-Rautha or any other Harkonnen."

"And yet, your finger is not adorned with a ring." She replies mockingly, with a cynical smile, staring at your fingers, which unfortunately are only decorated with your family's signet ring. You hide your hand in the fabric of your golden, sparkly dress and give her a forced smile.

"Matter of time."

"Probably."

"Definitely." You answer confidently and finish your champagne. The woman next to you chuckles and shakes her head.

"I hope you find what you are looking for. But it definitely won't be my cousin. Maybe Na-Baron? You always had a soft spot for him. As you can see, this childish infatuation is not one-sided and still burns wide."

This comment makes you clench your fists in anger. Irulan knew perfectly well what happened between Na-Baron and you. Or rather, what didn't happen but could have happened. However, you are no longer the naive girl you were a few years ago. You knew better. You've witnessed too many of his acts of cruelty and ruthlessness to continue to believe that somewhere inside him is still that boy from Lankivieil who charmed you. Or at least, that's what you thought until you met years later.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, but if you're that interested, I've never been more indifferent towards him than I am now." You say, not hiding the reproach and resentment in your voice or look.

"Interesting." She responds, unfazed by your gaze, as if she had nothing to reproach herself with. You smile and shake your head in disbelief. Of course. What else could you expect from her? Your eyes involuntarily land on your friend, who is having a drink with Feyd while they are laughing about something. "Lord Luwael! I believe you promised me a dance." Lord Luwael actually decided to finally show up at the party. He gives you an apologetic smile before taking Princess Irulan's hand and leading her to the dance floor.

You feel defeated when you are alone, against the wall. You close your eyes and sigh before going back to watching the rest of the people at the party. You try as hard as you can to swallow the unpleasant lump of jealousy, rage, and grief in your throat, but just when you think you've managed to calm down and tame your emotions, you feel a familiar presence next to you.

"Where's your prince charming?" Feyd's mocking voice makes your anger bubble up again. You turn your back on him and walk in the opposite direction, trying to get through the sea of people to get to the table with drinks. "Rude." He comments as he follows you.

He watches you carefully as you drink down the entire champagne in your glass in one gulp, grimacing as you do so. You refrain from making a snide comment, but his lips involuntarily twist into a malicious smirk.

"Fuck off." You growl, not even looking at him.

"You should speak to me more politely. Your lovely friend asked me to come over to you. You looked rather miserable, standing there all alone while your future emperor was having fun with a real princess."

"You know what? They say a lot of terrible, frightening things about you, and maybe some of them aren't true at all, but nothing—absolutely nothing—no fucking mask or artificial acts of politeness and kindness on your part can hide your nasty nature. Since I've been here, I've seen all sides of you, each of them riddled with rot and corruption. And yes, I'm a naive idiot who deserves sympathy, but only because I truly believed you could be something more than a Harkonnen. And I may not be a good person, but I'm not as rotten to the core as you are. I'd rather die than ever have anything to do with you. Have a pleasant evening with your concubines, my lord." You growl, pushing past him as he continues to look at you in shock.

He's calling after you, but you walk quickly through the crowd of people, wanting to get away from him and everyone in the room as quickly as possible. You put your hand over your mouth and run out into the hall, looking for a place where you can cry freely.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you land on one of the balconies. You gasp, seeing the man there, leaning against the railings and staring at the dark Giedi Prime night sky.

You want to get out of there as quickly as possible, but you accidentally hit a glass decoration on the wall, causing it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The man quickly turns around in alarm and sighs, relaxing when he sees that there wasn't any... attack or threat to his life.

"My apologises. I thought I'd find some solitude here." You reply shakily, unable to control your voice yet. But the man doesn't seem to care. You shiver as you meet his gaze as he carefully examines you for any injuries. He carefully avoids the broken glass and sweeps it aside as he walks closer to you.

"That's all right. You can stay here if you want. Well… maybe not on these pieces of glass. I myself am looking for a bit of peace in this… lively place. Are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself?" He asks, and you quickly nod your head. You take a few breaths and run a hand through your hair, brushing any stray strands of hair from your eyes.

When you look at him, you have the irresistible impression that you know him from somewhere. But you can't remember meeting this man or even understand why he seems oddly familiar to you. In a good way.

"Excuse me, have we met before?" You can't help but ask him about it. It seems downright strange that you don't know him when you feel… strangely drawn to him. Because how could you forget a man with such white hair and the piercing look in his black irises?

"I highly doubt it. Michael." He replies, shaking your hand with a mysterious smirk. You tentatively reach for his hand, as dark as his irises. Or at least one of them. The second one was white. You shiver as he returns his full attention to you, his two-toned eyes practically hypnotising you.

"Just Michael?"

"Only Michael. And you? Mysterious star?" You can't help but laugh. Genuine laughter, which has turned out to be a great rarity for you lately. He smiles, showing you his array of white teeth.

"Y/N. And before you laugh at me, my lord, my mother told me to put this on. I had no right to object." You say, pointing to your golden dress that reflected the light coming from the corridor of the Harkonnen stronghold.

"Oh yeah. Mothers and their regime. Believe me, I have a similar one myself. It's hard to say no without fear of being disinherited, right?"

"Yes. Definitely." You say, unable to stop smiling. Something about his presence seemed calming, even ethereal. Just a moment of conversation with him was enough for you to completely forget about the ball and everything that happened a few minutes ago. Talking with him and being in his presence brought you unexpected, strange relief. "So what are you hiding from? Crazy mother? You didn't wear the suit she wanted?"

"Let's say. I'm not really… familiar with the surroundings and people here. I've just arrived yesterday."

"Yesterday? But soon the nobles are leaving Giedi Prime. Why did you arrive at the very end of this event?"

"Most of them. Some stay for a few more days due to political matters. This is the reason why I am here."

"So you're not looking for a wife?" You ask, slightly teasingly. He chuckles at your remark and shakes his head.

"Not necessarily. At least now. I want to achieve something first." This answer makes your opinion of him grow even more.

He was absolutely perfect. Starting with appearance and ending with personality. Or at least that's what he appeared to be doing. You need to find out more about him. Hook your claws into it. If not the heir to the Emperor's throne, perhaps an ambitious, power-hungry man would be enough for you to reach for it with him. But first, you had to find out more about him—for example, what family he came from.

"An ambitious man with a plan. Beware of mothers; they will tear you to pieces for their daughters. Especially Lady Whistledown, if she finds out about you and decides to put you on the front page of her gossip rags. A mysterious man named Michael is the new, most desired suitor of this season."

"The first woman who doesn't like these rumours—did she tarnish your reputation, or are you just above the high society and their ridiculous sensations to care about things they care about?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore." You whisper conspiratorially, making him laugh.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Possible. Care to join?" You ask teasingly and shake his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you and licks his lips. His bi-colour irises stare intently at you as he considers your offer.

"Are you asking me to dance?" He replies with an equally mischievous smirk, responding positively to your flirtatious teasing.

"Feeling offended? Should I wait until you ask me, so I can politely smile and bow, my lord? Maybe even blush?"

The man in front of you laughs. He adjusts the necklace around your neck, gently brushing his fingertips against your skin. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his electric touch on you.

"I like your current attitude better. If you care about it…"

"Well then." You mumble as he suddenly grabs your hand and presses a kiss on it. You shiver, feeling his lips through the diamond mesh that was supposed to be a replacement for your gloves.

"I'm very curious if you dance as gracefully as you destroy things in this palace." He says, casting a pointed glance at the pieces of glass on the floor beneath your feet. You give him a mock-offended look, at which he chuckles. You find his laughter quite pleasant.

He leads you to the ballroom floor. You mingle with the crowd without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And even though you had written this evening off as a waste a few hours ago, thanks to Michael, it became... very nice. And pleasant. Refreshing.

You laugh heartily, and you feel butterflies in your stomach every time he leans towards you. You're completely enchanted by him, like a stupid teenager in love. You ignore the looks the people around you give you. For example, the stern look in your mother's eyes, the surprise in Irulan and Y/F/N's eyes, or the jealousy that Lord Luwael tries to hide when talking to Irulan. One particular pair of blue irises never leaves your side. But you don't care.

All you see is black and white—the irises of your evening companion. Surprisingly enough, you don't have to pretend to be either a damsel in distress or a strong woman who doesn't need anyone. You can be yourself. And as strange as it is, it's so nice to let go of control and vigilance sometimes. Even though the voice in the back of your head and your intuition tell you that you shouldn't break down the steel walls of your defences.

You don't even care about the whispers and rumours that spread about you in the ballroom—about your high infidelity and instability of feelings when people comment on how you rejected Lord Luwael's advances and jumped into another man's arms. You dance around with this charming man, not worrying that you just lost two potential suitors. All that mattered was that Michael made you feel like he had brought you back to life.

And you decided to remain blissfully unaware tonight and deal with the storm you had unleashed some other time. Tonight, your only activity was counting the constellations in Lord Michael's eyes, revelling in his scent and presence.

Meanwhile, Na-Baron leaves the party earlier than he should. With his hands gripped tightly around the handles of his blades.

However, this night proves something to you—something that you learned and experienced on your own skin a long time ago and Na-Baron learned tonight.

There's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, and the slowest way is never loving them enough.

Feyd's heart beats madly as he crosses the familiar halls of Giedi Prime. He avoids any guards or any living soul who might acknowledge his presence in the guest quarters. He slips silently into a specific chamber, careful not to make any sound.

He looks around the room and silently rummages through open crates, suitcases, and objects that have not yet been packed by the servants. He smiles to himself as a small vial with a familiar scent finally falls into his hands.

The poison that killed his harpies.

He turns around slowly, letting his eyes land on your sleeping figure. He silently approaches your bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he tries hard to sharpen his vision in the darkness of the room to get a good look at your facial features.

You sleep so peacefully in your bed. Feyd is downright unaccustomed to seeing you… not annoyed or insanely angry at him. In your relaxed state, you look almost like an angel.

And Feyd finds himself wanting to lie down behind you, take you in his arms, and just bury his nose in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent while he falls asleep. Which he thinks is absurd, considering that a few hours ago he found out that his darlings died of poisoning.

He should be mad at you. He should slit your throat right now, choke you, break all your bones, rip out all your muscles, and take your heart, which was as festering and selfish as his, especially after all the insults you said to him.

He takes the dagger with practiced ease. He presses the tip of it against your neck, gentle enough that you don't feel it in your sleep but close enough to feel the tip of the blade against your skin. He breathes heavily, staring at your sleeping figure. His anger rises as he thinks about how you danced with this new, strange man a few hours ago. How you smiled at him, how you flirted with him, how you ran your hands over his muscular arms and chest, how you brazenly did things that you should have done with no one else but Feyd.

And when he raises the dagger to swing and cut the skin of your delicate neck, he hesitates. Keeps steel in the air longer than necessary. Feyd closes his eyes, makes a fist, and bites it as he swings.

A strand of your hair falls onto your pillow. Feyd leans down and gathers the hair he cut off, wraps it in your shawl, and puts it on his nose. He inhales the delicate floral scent of your perfume, allowing himself a moment of weakness. He hides the dagger and his prized possessions in his pocket.

And just as he turns to leave, to accept that you will always see him as a monster, something in your jewellery box catches his attention.

He walks over to her and tenderly reaches for his old Lord of Lankiveil ring. He remembers many years ago when his uncle told him to throw away all the mementos from his old house. He kept two things. The ring and the shell that the oceans of his planet often washed ashore. He gave both of these things to you. For safekeeping.

He frowns, searching for a shell in your glass. He sighs in frustration when he can't find it. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and puts his old ring back in its place, wondering what you did with that little shell.

This discovery gives him the courage to approach your bed again. He lightly strokes your cheek with his fingertips, wondering if the fact that you kept the ring means that he wasn't as lost in the game for your hand as he thought.

But he still can't get the words you told him earlier out of his head—how much you hurt him today. And not only today. He sighs quietly, not knowing what to do. Just as he's about to remove his hand from your cheek, you roll over and nuzzle your face in his hand. Feyd's heart stops at this small gesture. He feels the warmth radiating from you as you press your cheek into his hand. His heart flutters, and his mouth goes dry at the contact as you instinctively reach for him.

And this somehow gives him hope that your anger, disgust, and resentment towards him may not have been as sincere and passionate as they seemed. He just had to approach you in the right way. And he knew exactly what he had to do next time to make sure you weren't just glaring madly at him across the ballroom or killing the women he was close to in your acts of jealousy.

He wanted all of your passionate anger directed at him. Not at any other women. And then he will do everything in his power to ensure that your quarrel goes the way he wants it to go—with you under him... or on top of him.

Either way, he will make you his. He will make you look at him the way you used to, the way now you look at those idiots you meet. And this time, nothing will stop him. Even you.

Dearest, gentle readers…

This author is completely disappointed with the lack of exciting news from Giedi Prime.

This author's curiosity has not been satisfied to any extent, and although we have learned more about the Na-Baron, his customs, his fighting skills, his dealings with his servants, and the concubines who are his constant companions in the dark nights of Giedi Prime, this author is hungry for more.

Those who have ears and eyes will probably not be surprised that Lady Y/F/N was promised to Count Rabban in marriage, which is to reconcile the countries at war. But those who are able to observe more may notice that this lady had a much better time with Harkonnen's younger brother than with her fiancé. Could it be that the brothers need to learn how to share their new bride-to-be? Or maybe this is not such a strange situation for them, considering how light and free the inhabitants of Giedi Prime are towards intimate matters. Let's not even mention the possible arranged marriage between Princess Irulan and the infamous Na-Baron.

This author, as closely as watched the affairs of the Harkonens, is watching what is happening between Lady Y/N and Lord Luwael. The young heiress of the family decided not to wait for the young lord to ask her such an important question for every woman and decided to move on with her search for a husband.

Surprisingly, Lady Y/N's attention was taken over by a certain Duke. Mchael Sahohton. And although the young Duke is not first in line to succeed to the Emperor's throne, his influence and ambition are so great that he can be considered a pretender to the throne more than Lord Luwael ever could ever be.

Is it a calculated move that Lady Y/N goes from one heir to the emperor's throne to another? Probably. Can we blame her? Of course not. After all, in the pursuit of a good match, a woman will do anything to end up with the best man possible. However, this young woman must remember to maintain her good, clean reputation in all this, which is extremely difficult to do when you have such an exciting and tempting goal in front of you.

Only one question remains: Which of these gentlemen is the diamond of this season? Which one is the most worthy of attention and pursuit by ladies

This author will try to answer this question, eagerly waiting for the continuation of this season, on the Kaitain - the homeland of the house Corrino and the breeding ground of the Bene Gesserit.

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark

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mysticfalls01 · 1 year ago

Text

Princesa III

(FC Barcelona x reader)

Part 1 Part 2

After arriving to SGP Sarina gave you room number and she told you that your roommate hadn’t arrived yet.

The moment you entered your room you sent a text to Barca’s group informing your teammates that you had arrived, before even having the opportunity to do something else Alexia called you.

“Hija! He visto que ya has llegado al lugar de concentración” (Daughter! I have seen that you have already arrived at the place of concentration)

“Hi mama! Yes, I was about to call you! Everything went great during the flight”

“That’s nice to hear hija. So, who is your roommate?”

“Well, my roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so I don’t know mama. “

You continued talking with Alexia until you heard someone opening the door, quickly you realized who your roommate was, it was the one and only Lucy Bronze.

“Mama, debo irme mi compañera de cuarto ha llegado. Te hablaré más tarde. Si?” ("Mom, I must go, my roommate has arrived. I'll talk to you later. Yes?")

“Alright hija when you have the chance text either Ona or me who your roommate is. Take care hija”

Immediately as the call ended Lucy spoke.

“Nice to meet you kid! I’m Lucy Bronze” she said while stretching her hand.

“Hi! I’m y/n l/n” you nervously answered.

“So, with who were you talking with kid? I’m sure that you weren’t speaking English.”

“I was talking with mama, I mean with Alexia, and we were talking in a mix of Spanish and English” you answered.

“Alexia as in Alexia Putellas as in La Reina?”

“Yup”

While she started setting her things down you continued talking with Lucy. You learned that she currently was playing for City and that Keira Walsh is her girlfriend. You continued talking until she said that it was time for the first team meeting.

When you guys arrived to conference room you stayed next to Lucy as the only persons that you knew from the group were Maya, Alessia and Tooney as they played for MU.

At one point of the meeting Sarina asked you to present yourself as you were the only new person of the group.

“Hi! I’m y/n l/n, I’m from Manchester and I was part of MU academy. I play as a striker, and I’m currently signed with Barcelona” you said nervously.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You fitted in perfectly with the Lionesses. Leah as captain made sure that everyone received you well, Alessia and Tooney assumed the roles of your older sisters and showed you how everything worked. Finally, Lucy and Keira they became like your aunts however you couldn’t help but to find similarities between them and Ingrid and Mapi.

Before you knew it was time for the friendly against Switzerland. As you were in the bus on the way there Alexia called you.

“Princesa! Good luck in the game I just wanted to tell you that we are going to watch the game and we will be rooting for you.”

“Thanks mama! According to Sarina I’ll be making my debut during the second half of the game.”

“Perfect! Remember that’s it’s your time to shine hija make sure that everyone realize why you are la princesa de Barcelona.”

Your debut happened just as you told Alexia. You entered the game in the 65th minute. It seemed that Leila could see the future as you did score against Switzerland.

Just as the game ended with a win for the Lionesses and after celebrating with your teammates you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey Princesa come here!”

You turned around saw that it was Ana-Maria as soon as you realized that it was her you ran towards her and hugged her.

“Princesa! I’m so proud of you, you just had your debut, and it was spectacular!”

“Thank you, auntie!”

AMC presented you to some of her teammates and as she did, she gloated about Barcelona having the princess, the player who was going to make history.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The Lionesses were able to win two out of two friendly matches and it’s safe to say that you left a great impression to the team. Before you knew it was time to go back to Barcelona and before you could leave to the airport Lucy asked you for your number as she wanted to keep in touch with you.

As soon as you landed you sent Alexia a text message indicating that you only had to pick up your luggage and after picking it up you walked towards the exit. As soon as you spotted Alexia and Olga you ran towards Ale.

“Hija! I’m so proud of you!” she greeted while she hugged you.

“Thank you mama, I had so much fun, but I missed you a lot”

“How about this we go out to eat dinner, you sleep at our apartment and tomorrow I take you to the training session.”

You separated from Alexia and turned towards Olga.

“Is this ok with you Olga? I don’t want to bother” you shyly asked her.

“Nonsense kid! You are always welcomed to spend time with us” she reassured you.

Alexia couldn’t help but to smile while she saw yours and Olga’s interaction.

“Mama, before I forget it take this. It’s the jersey of my international debut, it’s the one I used against Switzerland I want you have it.” You said after taking out the jersey from your backpack.

“Thank you hija, I’ll treasure this forever. When we get back to the apartment you better sign the jersey frilla” Alexia answered with tears on her eyes.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

As soon as you entered the locker room Jana and Bruna tackled you.

“Felicidades hermanita! We are so proud of you!” Bruna said.

“Si hermana! You played amazingly!” Jana said at the same time.

After they got off you and you could stand up Leila approached you and turned towards Ana

“Hey Ana! Just as I said la princesa scored against you!” she jokingly said.

“Ouahabi just wait for her to play against Spain I’m sure you guys won’t be able to stop her!” Ana-Maria answered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#barcelona femeni x reader #engwnt x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #lionesses x reader #lionesses imagine

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hellodropbear · 7 months ago

Text

like she used to (VI)

alexia putellas x sister

part I, II, III, IV, V

~~~~~~

When I asked, Aitana told me there was nothing wrong when she followed Alexia outside. She told me that Mapi hadn't been out there and that she really did need help with her dribbling.

It was a lie, of course. I am not naive.

She told me that I was staying at her house tonight, and tomorrow she will call Alba. They were not lies, that much I could tell.

I don't want her to call Alba, but I don't think I have a choice in that decision.

Aitana and Mapi don't think I should be alone at the moment. Apparently, I have not been taking good enough care of myself to be trusted by myself in my own house.

Their thought is supposed to make me feel comforted, loved. But really, all it makes me feel is frustrated. Weak.

Weaker than I already am.

I am almost 16, I should be able to take care of myself.

I don't tell them that I miss Mami, or that I wish she didn't work until late every night, because I don't want her to pull away from her job. She loves it there, it gives her time away from her children and she can earn money for her future.

I don't tell them that I wish Alba would realise that something is wrong, without having to be told. I can't pull her away from her friends, her job. Her life that doesn't really involve me anymore.

So I don't tell them anything, falling back into the silence as I get into Aitana's car, ignoring her eyes that seemed glued to the side of my face.

"I miss you, Elena."

Her words are almost silent, and if I hadn't strained my ears I wouldn't have been able to hear them.

I know what she means, she misses the person I used to be. I don't know how to tell her that I miss her to, but I just can't seem to find her anymore.

For some reason, her words trigger a sudden swirl of anger, of frustration within me and I am replying before I can even think about what is coming out of my mouth.

"Then leave me alone!"

Aitana recoils and looking back, I can recognise that my words were too harsh. Too harsh to one of the few people who had actually been looking out for me.

But my sadness has morphed into concealed anger over the past few days, a raging fire inside me that is fighting to escape, fighting to explode in the worst way possible.

There is not enough water to put the fire out, my weak attempts only making it grow and grow.

It is just unfortunate that Aitana was the one who had to witness the explosion. If you can even call it that.

Because the tsunami wave is growing, I can feel it building inside of me. It is only a matter of time before it crashes and I feel tense as I wait for the inevitable destruction.

"Elena-" Her voice was soft, too soft. Too kind and too even.

They always were. Mapi and Aitana were always too nice, too caring and too nurturing, even when all I wanted was for someone to scream at me. Someone to yell, to tell me this was all my fault just so I could have someone to blame.

It is too hard to blame Alexia because I love her too much.

It is too hard to blame Alexia because I have been grieving her like she is dead. You do not blame a dead person for dying.

I want to be punished, to be screamed at. I want someone to tell me that I should be like this, to tell me that this is all my fault. I want someone to watch as I cry, to allow me to just release every single thing that is inside of me so I can stop feeling like this.

Stop feeling the sadness, stop feeling the hurt, stop feeling the anger, the loneliness, the isolation.

Stop feeling at all.

Because it all hurts so much, feeling hurts me so much and I want to stop hurting. I want to be safe, comfortable. I want to be loved, to be warm.

I want to be held in Alexia's arms like she used to.

Her hand combing through the knots in my hair, allowing me to fall asleep in her lap.

They were the times I felt most comfortable, right there on the couch, in her arms.

Because she was the sister I went to when I needed comfort, when I needed to cry about all of life's problems. To be frustrated, angry. When I didn't want to be cheered up, when I didn't want to be positive.

To just be miserable.

But it was hard to be miserable when I was consumed by her smell, her touch. The love I could only find in my sister.

And I wish I could get that same comfort from Alba. From Aitana or from Mapi. From anyone that was willing to give it to me.

But I don't think it is that simple.

"I just... I can't do it any more."

Aitana frowns, as if debating inside her what to do.

"What do you need, Lena?"

Her voice cracks. She doesn't know what to do anymore. Similar to how Mapi didn't know what to do with me.

All I need is Alexia, her love and affection. But it is one of the only things I can't get.

So I don't respond, because I can't give her the answer that I want, but there is nothing else that will suffice.

"I don't know why I asked that question. You want Alexia, no?"

I look out the window as I nod.

"Of course I want Alexia!" A tear falls from my eye, although my words do not sound sad, they sound angry.

Because I feel angry, with everything.

But I also feel everything, every emotion giving me whiplash as I finally feel myself breaking.

Aitana hesitates, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, Elena, look at me."

I don't turn my head immediately, first trying to shrug her hand off my shoulder but giving up when her grip stays firm, her hand not even budging.

A strangled cry leaves my mouth and I slowly turn my head, my eyes meeting her wet ones.

"What is wrong with me?"

We are in a car, so it is difficult for Aitana to hug me, but she tries her best, reaching over the centre console and wrapping her arms around my trembling body.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Elena. You are going through such a hard thing, but there is nothing wrong with you."

"Why does she hate me so much?"

I whisper through my tears, but Aitana hears me loud and clear.

"She doesn't hate you, not at all. She loves you so much but sometimes it is just hard for her to show it."

"It shouldn't be so hard, it never used to be like this."

~~~~~~

August 23, 2012.

Papi's office door has been closed for too long.

A few months ago, Mami told me that he had died, that he was never coming home. I didn't believe her, so I sat by his locked door, waiting for him to come home and play the piano with me.

But he never did.

Things changed a lot around the house too. Mami started working more and Alexia also started playing more football. Often, it was Alba and me alone at home.

I would sit by the office door, Alba would lie on the sofa, staring at the tv. I don't think she was really paying attention to what was happening because, like Ale and Mami, Alba has not really been doing much at all since Papi left.

But now he has been gone for ages. A long time.

A time that has been so long that I find myself believing Mami. Papi will never come back from heaven.

They say that heaven is a good place, where everyone is happy and everyone gets what they want.

But Papi is in heaven without me. Does that mean he is happy without me? He doesn't want me any more?

The thought crosses my mind over and over, day after day. But I do not tell Mami, because she misses Papi too. I don't want her to think that Papi doesn't want her anymore.

Because why else would he stay there without us.

Alexia cries when I tell her my suspicions. I am sat in the back of her car as she drives me to her training after kindergarten, but she pulls over when the words spill out during my long ramble about my day.

I had been telling her all about the arts and crafts that we had been doing, what I ate for lunch and how I couldn't sleep at nap time. She asked me why, and I told her that it was because my brain was moving too much and I couldn't get the wriggly creatures out and get to sleep.

"What were you thinking about that was so wriggly, pequena?"

She had glanced at me through the rear view mirror, so I could see her frown. I saw it deepen as I explained the reason and watched her indicate and pull over to the side of the road.

She was quick to get into the back seat with me, easily pulling me into her arms and allowing her fat tear drops to fall onto my head.

"That is not true, Elena. Heaven is not a place people want to go to. They only go when they have no choice. Because if Papi had the choice, he would be at home with us. At home where he belongs, teaching you to play the piano, giving you cuddles and kisses, giving you baths, feeding you dinner, singing you to sleep. He is not happy without us, without you, but he is always up there, watching us and making sure we are all happy, making sure that we are all ok."

That was the moment that I realised what death meant, and that was the moment that I started to cry.

"Papi is gone forever? He can not come home, Mami said. But why, Alexia? Why can't he come home?"

Her arms tightened around me and she exhaled quietly before speaking.

"He was sick, p, very sick. His body couldn't handle the sickness and one day it stopped working. You can't live without a working body, so he went to heaven. He died, Elena, and we can't do anything to bring him back."

I didn't have a response for that. All I could do was cry, sobbing into my sisters arms in the back seat of her car on the side of the main road.

Her keys were still in the ignition, the engine still running as my body wracked with sobs, apparently contagious as Alexia dissolved into quieter cries into my hair.

I think I fell asleep there, because the next thing I knew, Alexia was carrying me into the house.

My eyes stung and my face felt dry, but as soon as we walked inside the house, I knew where Ale was taking me.

The chestnut door had not been unlocked in months, but I remember that the key was kept in the top draw of the shelf in the lounge. I couldn't reach the draw, but I grabbed the key as soon as it was in Alexia's hand, reaching down from where I was balanced on her hip as she walked silently down the hallway.

I could feel her breath catch when the door opened and my own stomach filled with butterflies as she sat down on the piano stall, sitting me right in her lap.

"Do you want to play your song?"

I shook my head. It didn't feel right playing without Papi beside me. His study felt haunted, almost, like he should be right behind me, ready to scoop me us and cover me in kisses once I finished my song.

But deep inside of me I knew he would not be there, yet it would be impossible to prepare myself for the disappointment that I would feel when he wasn't there.

So I curled up into my older sister who easily wrapped her arms around my trembling form, planting a soft kiss on my hair.

"Papi loves you so much, Elena. So, so much. He will always be up there looking out for you and I will help him out by being the one to look after you down here. I will always love every bit of you because you are my best friend, pequena."

I had nodded, responding meekly.

"You are my best friend too, Ale. I love you as well."

I fell asleep in her lap again, but the next time I woke up, it was beside her in her bed.

And I was comfortable, because my sister means everything to me.

She is the person who will be there for me forever.

~~~~~~

I was angry for the next few weeks, despondent when Mapi or Aitana tried to get anything out of me.

But they had gone over me and decided that even though I didn't want to, they would call Alba to at least let her know that I wasn't ok.

I had listened to them on speaker phone to each other from the other room, although I didn't want anyone to realise how much I actually cared. How nervous I was of rejection, of Alba not caring.

But to say she cared was an understatement.

"What do you mean, 'she's not doing well?'" Alba's voice was frustrated, that much was clear. "Is it because of Alexia? The pressure in the first team? She promised she would tell me if she needed me."

It was Mapi who responded, knowing Alba better than Aitana.

"It's everything, Alba. It is obvious when you see it, so we've been looking after her for the past two months."

"Why didn't you call me earlier? I would have been there immediately!"

She was frustrated by them, but I dread her reaction when she is told why they didn't call her earlier. Because it, like many problems in my life, is all my fault, a decision that I made. A decision that Mapi and Aitana did not agree with.

But when Aitana responded, she did not say what I expected her to.

"We didn't realise how bad it was. But she does need you, Alba, please come at some point."

"I am in the car, driving now. Where are you?"

She was clearly annoyed, her voice was very telling.

"We are at mine." Mapi's voice was soft, and I could hear her sigh as Alba hung up.

I sat back down quickly as they returned to the lounge room, not noticing Ingrid's eyes on me from where she was in the kitchen.

"Alba is coming now." Mapi spoke softly, sitting down on the sofa, leaving a large distance between us.

"I am going to go home now." I looked at Aitana as she spoke and nodded. She waved to Mapi and Ingrid, grabbing her bag and heading out.

Alba arrived not long after, practically storming inside, concern etched into her frown.

"Elena." She gasped softly, sitting herself down right beside me and wrapping one arm around me.

"Elena, what has happened?"

I shrug nonchalantly, not volunteering any information. I watched as Mapi cowered under Alba's strong glance, apparently not sure what she should say.

Ingrid was calm as she entered, however, placing a cup of coffee in front of Alba and then her girlfriend.

"Elena has been staying here for a while, some nights she's been with Aitana."

"Have you been sleeping? You look tired. You are also pale, Elena. Why didn't you tell me? Even if Maria and Aitana didn't think it was necessary, why didn't you say something when we were on the phone?"

Alba studies me closely, stress evident in her voice.

It reinforces my decision to not tell her anything until I am ok again, because now she will be everywhere.

I can't live with her because she lives far from the training ground and doesn't have the time to take me to training, but she will be everywhere else.

There is another uncomfortable silence, broken again by Ingrid.

"She didn't want to be a burden on you. She kept saying how you have your own life and you shouldn't have to look after her."

Alba just shakes her head, her arm securing around my waist and facing me more directly.

"You were wrong, Elena! I am your older sister. Just because Ale and you are not getting on does not mean you ice me out as well."

My face remains blank as she reprimands me, barely registering her words.

"Are you even listening to me? Elena! Please, just let me in."

Her voice breaks and Ingrid looks at Mapi, nodding out of the room. They exit and Alba seems glad to have some privacy.

"Why have you not been staying with Mami?"

"Not my choice."

I am embarrassed about how weak my voice is, but I can't muster any more strength.

All of my strength is used up at training, ensuring I am improving, proving my worth. I have to be good enough to stay there.

It is when I get home that things fall apart, so tired, so emotional. It is easier to be emotionless than emotional.

"Was it lonely at home, when Mami was working?"

I nod.

"And when did you start staying with Maria and Aitana?"

I shrug.

"Couple months ago. Soon after the first game. I told Mapi that I felt confused and lonely so she said I would stay with her."

Alba nods, frowning softly. When she speaks again, her voice is soft.

"I wish you would have told me. I am sorry for not noticing. It's still bad with Ale?"

I can't blame her for not knowing, she said months ago that she was going to stay out of our drama.

"We barely look at each other. It hurts, everything... hurts."

I don't cry because I don't think there are any tears left in me.

"And I don't know what to do because she was always the one I went to when I was feeling confused or when I needed things to make sense. You would cheer me up, but she would clear things up."

She nods, looking at me intently, clearly listening.

"And now I can't talk to her and nothing makes sense anymore. I don't understand anything and I just feel so... full. Like I could just burst at any moment but I'm not going to because I don't think I would deal with that very well. And I can't sleep at night because my thoughts won't stop. It's like as soon as I rest my head on the pillow they just start going and I can't stop them and I can't clear them out because-"

She interrupts me.

"Because Alexia was the one who used to get rid of the wriggly thoughts, no?"

I nod and lean my head on her shoulder.

"Have you played the piano much in the past few weeks?"

She knows that it was my way of releasing my emotions.

I haven't, so I shake my head.

"We will change that, ok? I am going to take you home for the afternoon and we'll get some of your clothes, some things you want from home because I do think it is good that you are here with Ingrid and Mapi. And you can play your piano. It'll make you feel better, I'm sure."

I nod, standing up from the sofa and walking out onto the balcony to where Ingrid and Mapi are waiting.

"Alba is taking me home." I probably should have given some more explanation, because Mapi seems confused.

"Her house is too far from here, you can't stay there, Elena."

I nod.

"She's not taking me to hers, she's taking me to my house for the afternoon. I want to play my piano and I need some of my own stuff anyway."

The Spaniard seems to understand. She nods, standing up and pulling me into a hug.

"Call me if you need anything at all."

I nod, rolling my eyes in amusement. She is too good to me. I tap her head when she releases me from the hug and she laughs, moving to sit back down with Ingrid.

"You haven't used it because it's not great, but you can use my keyboard in the study whenever you want."

"Thanks, Ingrid."

~~~~~~

It was weird walking into my bedroom after such a long time not being here. Alba helped me pack clothes into suitcases, telling me over and over that this was all ok, that everything would be ok.

I think she was mainly trying to reassure herself; Alba has always been most effected by anything that breaks our once strong family unity.

But I am only 15. Almost 16 now, but I shouldn't be by myself every night.

Because they were right, I wasn't feeding myself, I wasn't taking care of myself. It wasn't good and it wasn't healthy.

And I will never forget the kindness that both Mapi and Aitana have shown me, stepping in like sisters when Alexia wasn't there like she should have been.

I think about them as I play my piano, my fingers easily falling back into rhythms that are like second nature.

I feel my tense body relaxing as the song flows on, transitioning between fast and slow, loud and soft. My head spins with thought, but the tears do not fall.

Despite the emotions raging inside of me, my face remains stoic, focused only on the intricate patterns my fingers are creating as they hit the keys so hard that there is a slight ache in my hands. My song is full of my emotions, yet it feels like they barely skim the surface of the raging ocean inside of me.

The ocean that keeps producing waves that crash and fall at any chance they can get, usually quelled by the piano, by the rhythms that hold the meanings and secrets of my life. The notes that have written who I am and what I stand for.

But today they do not stop, they barely even slow down and the lack of the release I am hungry for leaves me unsatisfied. The song doesn't explode as usual, instead slowing down to a anticlimactic ending, my hands recoiling from the keys as I frown down at my hands.

Because why is this happening?

The piano is supposed to make me feel better, but all it has done is make me feel more confused, more worried about everything happening outside.

And I feel betrayed. Betrayed by the piano, but betrayed by my father.

Because the piano connects me to him, and I always thought that as long as I could play the piano, he would be there watching me, guiding me. My connection with him is why the piano means so much to me; it is why I can release everything into the music and calm whatever negativity I may be feeling.

But today it feels like he is not here. And as my eyes rest on the picture above the piano, all I feel is disappointment.

Alexia told me that he would be there to watch me from above and she would be there to love me from where she would always be right next to me.

And I knew that if I had them everything would be ok.

But now... Now I have neither and my whole world is going to slowly fall apart. Piece by piece until there is nothing left but me and those stupid emotions that I can't stop thinking about.

The stupid emotions that I have begun to detest.

The stupid emotions that have ruined my life.

Apparently, I have a never ending supply of tears, because they begin to fall again, my arm slamming on the keys with a sob.

I always thought I would have my father there in my piano, that I could rely on the simple instrument for that love that I so deeply desired. And he has never once failed me. Not when I needed him, not when I wanted him. He was even there when I just wanted to play, to learn, to perform.

But right now, when I need him the most, he decides he won't be there.

And it must be my fault.

For the first time in months, I feel completely empty, void of any of the emotions that have consumed me for so long.

The air becomes blurry as I cry, my mind hazy and my senses obscured.

I don't know what is happening to me, but I can feel myself slipping away as my senses disintegrate into nothing.

I think I have broken myself. Because everything is all so confusing, things rushing through my mind and out so quickly that it feels like everything is falling out of me.

Maybe the tsunami wave has grown big enough that it is ready to crash. Maybe it is already crashing, washing away everything in it's path.

But I don't know if I dislike it, because for the first time in a long time, I feel peace. I don't feel so confused anymore because there is nothing left to be confused about.

It is just me, none of those emotions that sent me into constant overdrive, exhausting me but simultaneously preventing me from resting.

None of the emotions that I used to feel coming back to haunt me, no memories of what my life once was there to mock me, a heartbreaking illustration of everything I have lost.

It's all gone.

Everything has slipped away from me and I am finally calm.

It's just me, my piano and my tears.

So I close my eyes softly, my body folding over onto the piano as my sobs soften to quiet cries. A broken chord rings through my room as my head falls onto the keys and I allow myself to just sit there.

Just me, my piano and my tears.

My door opens, but I can't hear the voices that enter my room, or the footsteps that move towards me.

I don't register the bodies that sit on either side of me on the piano stall, or the worried words that escape from their mouths.

It all sounds like a distant murmur. My skin is numb to any contact.

I don't even register Alba grabbing my face and lifting it to stare into my tear-filled eyes. I don't register the soft slap she leaves on it and there is no way for me to notice the terror that is painted all over her face, even evident in her posture.

But another pair of arms wraps around me and everything comes crashing down.

Because they are arms that I will never not recognise. A hold that is tight enough to comfort me, tight enough to make sure I can't escape, but not too tight to choke me or make me feel trapped.

I used to say that Alexia's arms had some sort of magical powers, their innate ability to calm me down and set me straight was an ability that nobody else possessed.

And Alexia was right there, right next to me. A tear stained face that likely matched mine, her voice shaky and worried as she whispered my name over and over again, her tears falling onto my head.

But Alexia was right there, and everything that she has done came flooding back to me, so quickly that I didn't even have time to register it before her touch burned me, my body instinctively recoiling and standing up.

"No..." my voice was a raspy whisper but could be heard loud and clear by both my sisters.

"No, Alexia. No!"

I stepped out of the hold that both the piano stool and my sisters had on me, backing up to where my bags were, picking them up and fleeing the room.

Because I can't deal with this.

I can't deal with the tears that stain Alexia's face, the terror that was clear on Alba's.

Because this all is my fault.

And there is nothing I can do at this point to fix everything I have ruined.

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed :)

part VII

#woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #aitana bonmati #mapi leon #fcb femeni #alexia putellas

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months ago

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Injured (Alexia's Version): Future III

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You spend time with Mami

"You know," You say, resting against the bench," Just because I'm now free from my job doesn't mean that I enjoy coming to yours. I'm not six."

Alexia laughs at your teasing, lightly slapping your legs to move so she can sit down too.

You sit up, adjusting your sunglasses on your face as you move.

"You love it really."

You roll your eyes, not that Alexia can tell but you're grinning too and she bumps her shoulders against yours.

Mami's been retired from football for a while now, a player turned manager of Barcelona's women's team. She's on a quest to get as many titles as manager as she did as a player.

Which is why you're here now, at a Champion's League semi-final. It's the second leg with Barcelona already up three nil against Chelsea.

You're not too worried but your Mami is. She knows how quickly a match can change.

It just takes one moment for it all to go to shit.

Mami's a bit intense like that.

It's probably one of the reasons you prefer ballet to sports. There's no competition when you're actually performing. There's some competition for parts behind the scenes but once you're on stage, there is no foul play.

Everyone is trying to do their very best for the crowd.

You couldn't even imagine what it would be like to compete against another ballet company at the same time.

Football has always been a bit too intense for you. It was Mami's passion, even now.

"You're too stressed," You say," Take a day off."

Alexia laughs at you, teasingly ruffling your hair. "Funny," She says," I distinctly remember telling you that a few weeks ago. What was it you said to me? No chance!"

You laugh with her. "Hey! I never said I practiced what I preached!"

"Neither did I!"

It's nice being here with Mami.

Olga's in Madrid with a client and Jaume's on a trip with his school so it's just the two of you in the house right now.

"The girls will be fine," You say dismissively," You're ready. It's only Chelsea."

"Only Chelsea," Alexia repeats with an eye roll," You've not been watching any of their games recently."

You blow her a kiss. "You know I only watch football when you're around, Mami. I'm not Jaume."

Jaume watches football as often as he can, glued to the screen. If he's not watching then he's playing. His dirty football boots lay all over the house.

It's a little annoying, especially when he jumps onto your bed still wearing them.

But you do miss him, annoying as your brother is.

The stadium slowly fills up with fans as you and Alexia sit on the bench together.

You think you and Mami are more similar now that you've grown up. You've always been like her subtly. Her drive and her passion and her ambition.

But you look more like her now.

You've grown into her features, your nose, the curve of your lips, your eyes.

You grin as she pulls you up, grasping your hand tightly as she guides you back inside.

You've got a break for a few weeks before you're back with the company. It's a welcome break, one where you can go back to eating normally and feeling like the world is crushing you.

It's a brutal cycle but one every ballerina goes through.

It's hard and it's horrible but it's what you sacrifice on the altar of ballet.

This break is nice though.

You've got a trip to Mallorca coming up during it where you can just soak up the sun and the sand and whatever fruity drinks you can be bothered to buy.

Just you and the crystal waters.

"Hey," You say to Alexia," I'm going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want something?"

"I shouldn't..."

You see through her excuses though, waiting her out.

"Just a drink. Sugar free, Bambi!"

"I know!"

You know the stadium like the back of your hand, weaving through the halls to the vending machine you know stocks the best chocolate bars you've ever eaten.

Mami used to buy them for you and Jaume when you were little and the match was over. She used to walk all the way to the rival's end of stadium, still in her kit and boots with you and Jaume following after her like little ducklings.

She didn't even care that the opposing players would stare. She would walk straight up to the vending machine in front of their changing room to get you your favourite chocolate and Jaume his favourite drink.

You could do the walk in your sleep.

Someone's already there though, staring through the glass at it.

It's one of the Chelsea girls.

You vaguely recognise her, one of the older players on the team. You're pretty sure she plays for England too but you're not quite sure because you only watch matches when Mami's around.

"Sorry," You say. You're English is rusty from years of not using it apart from in school. "Are you-?"

"Oh! No, sorry."

You nod in thanks, punching in your choices before paying.

You grab your chocolate and Mami's drink.

She's pretty, this older woman. Exactly your type. If you'd met in the club, you'd probably try to entice her closer but you're at Mami's workplace so you don't.

"I'm not sure what to choose," She says," What do you recommend?"

"The chocolate," You say, waving your choice," The crisps are always stale. Don't get them."

She nods. "Noted."

You go to leave but she still calls after you.

"Hey, can I have your number?"

You lay your cards in the table immediately. "I'm not looking for a relationship," You tell her," I...I'm just not..."

She shrugs. "Can I have your number anyway?"

"You don't mind?"

"I just got out of a relationship. I'm not looking for another one. But you're fit and you give good snack recommendations."

You study her. "I'm y/n."

"Aggie. So...is that a yes?"

"Sure."

When you make your way back to Mami, the Barcelona girls are already warming up.

"You took a while," She says, gratefully taking her drink and pressing a soft kiss to your crown.

"I stopped at the toilets," You reply.

She nods. "Are you still okay with staying down here instead of going to the box?"

"As long as you don't yell at me if it goes wrong then yeah."

"I'd never yell at you," Alexia says," I've been told that having you down here actually makes me calmer."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever." You look down at your phone in your hand. "Hey, remember when you worried about me going to Mallorca by myself?"

Alexia frowns at the change of subject but nods. "Yes. I still am worried, if that's what you're checking."

"You don't need to be," You say," I've got someone coming to stay with me now."

Sun, sand, sea and sex.

The best way for you to spend your break from ballet.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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americaswritings · 1 year ago

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Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part III

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of killing, mentions of torture, Coriolanus being himself

Summary: Coriolanus realizes he's still a part of the Capitol's games and that your life is the prize.

Words: around 3k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: I never expected this to turn into a story, but here we are! I really hope you enjoy it!! Also I'm halfway through the book now and planning to watch the movie (in English then) again afterwards! I'm so excited!! :)

If you have ideas for Coriolanus oneshots I would love to hear from you (or if you just feel like ranting about the movie, the world of Panem, the characters, Tom Blyth...lol)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

All Coriolanus had wanted was to follow you that night.

Seeing you in the arena had been painful. Watching them use his voice to torment you had been worse. And thinking he would never see you again had topped it all.

But watching you walk away from him? That was a new kind of pain.

Everyone left Coriolanus life. First his mother and his little sister. Then his father had followed. All he had left were the Grandma'am and Tigris, but it didn't feel that way with them so far away.

But here he could have you, if he allowed himself it. And God how he wanted to. His days as a peacekeeper were dull and lifeless, but you had brought colour and a flicker of hope into his life.

There had never been the choice between you and the scholarship, but suddenly there was and he didn't know how he could decide between the path he had always firmly believed was his and the girl he had never seen coming.

But there too many reasons holding him back. You belonged to different worlds. That would never change.

It was a cruel kind of knowledge.

Every time he tried to forget about you he awoke sweating. You haunted his dreams.

The look of betrayal on your face as you had realized he would return to the capitol. That even after he had admitted they had used his own voice to manipulate you, he would still go back and pretend it hadn't happened. That he was still the same boy.

He dreamed about your body. About sacred moments of peace and quiet the two of you, the outside world forgotten. About your laugh and the spark in your eyes and that you would fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

He dreamed about every scenario involving your death his brain seemed to come up with. Death in the arena. Death because he had manipulated your chances. Death because he had let you go.

When he heard Tigris voice for the first time since he had been sent to the districts over the phone the relief almost made him cry. He wished he could tell her about his conflicted emotions, but he couldn't risk anyone overhearing him.

Besides, he didn't know if he could ever admit to her the true extent of his feelings. It was embarrassing that of all people he had fallen for a weak girl from the district.

But you were so much more than that to him. It was why it had been so painful to watch you go. Because until that moment some part of him seemed to have hold onto the improbable hope that you would start a life in the capitol together.

As the winner of the games he had assumed it could be possible. That people respected you enough that he could be seen with you and that you wouldn't be forced to return to your life of shreds and dirt.

But you had shown him that this was no future you could ever imagine. And just as you weren’t willing to change for him, he couldn’t do it for you either. Even though you loved each other your love was not enough.

But then why did it hurt so much?

"Everything okay?", he asked Tigris to distract himself from his thoughts. It was another worry that made his heart heavy, the one for his family. Their money was still as tight and with him gone there was not much he could do for them now.

He earned too little, could barely pay for his own foot and housing. Was this how the people in the districts felt? Stuck in a constant loop of worry, fear and work that would never pay off? Unlike them he would never accept such a fate. Unlike them he didn’t belong here.

"We're okay." He heard an edge to Tigris voice, "but there's something you should know about."

His posture stiffened and he gazed around, making sure no one was there. "What is it?"

"Everyone's talking about you and the girl in the capitol." His fingers clenched around the steel. "What are they saying?"

"Never in the history of the games did the gamemakers ever do what they did there with your voice." "He was aware of it, so he waited for her to elaborate. "But why use your voice? The voice of her mentor. Why not someone from her family, someone she cares about?"

To hear Tigris say that you didn't care about him, that he was nothing more than your mentor hurt, but he pushed the anger away. "She doesn't really have family left. And she trusts me. So it makes sense."

"Then why did they only use it on her? Why didn't they try to manipulate anyone else?"

He let out an impatient sigh. "I don't know. They didn't tell me they would do it. But it was our task to make our tributes trust us and I was the only one who succeeded."

"But they didn't, Coryo."

Momentarily he forgot what he was about to say and took in a breath. What was Tigris implying? "It was your task to be a good mentor. Get the people's attention and make them root for her. But making her trust you was your decision."

"Didn't you tell me I should do it?" He sounded tired and accusing and he knew his cousin heard it in his voice. "Yeah, but I didn't expect-", she trailed of and he waited for her to continue, frustrated when he realized she wouldn't.

"She really trusts you, you know that, right?" He was growing more irritated with this conversation by the second. "I think I did a good job, if that's what you're asking."

"My God Coryo, that's not what I mean!" She exhaled loudly at the other side. "We all saw how scared she was for you. For her mentor. For someone from the capitol."

Her words were another reminder how different the two of you were. He hated it.

"We all saw that you care about her too. You kept visiting her. You two talked so much even when the cameras weren't near and everyone who was in the same room saw how terrified you were for her in the arena. And then, against all odds, she wins and you disappear without another word."

She was speaking softer now, probably expecting the defensiveness he felt rising in him. She knew him well. "They gave me a task. I did what I had to. That's all."

Tigris was silent for a moment. "Even if it were true, you did your job a little too well. The people are obsessed with it! With you and her, the idea of a love story between a mentor and their tribute. A Snow and the girl from ashes."

Tigris was speaking slowly, like she was afraid she was overwhelming him with the news and her tone was grave and serious. It was the polar opposite to the hope he felt.

It wasn't the narrative he would have chosen, but a story meant attention and attention meant relevance. If it was true and Tigris was right, they couldn't keep him hidden in the districts much longer.

People wouldn't just accept the two of you together, they would demand it.

His lips curled into a smile. He could have never imaged a better way to get out of here and to convince you to come with him. What reason did you have to say no now?

"Then why do you sound so fearful?"

Tigris took in a deep breath.

"It's the people that love it. You know how they are, always looking for gossip and a good story to keep them entertained enough to forget about their own miserable lives. But-", she paused, "the people are not the capitol. Everyone who's got something to say in Panem hates it. It sends the wrong message, Coryo. That the people from the capitol and the people from the district could be equals. The whole point of the hunger games is to demonstrate supremacy and power. They don't want a girl from a district turning into a star and having a sweet little romance with one of their own."

His smile faded. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and suddenly the room was too small, the walls to high. With each second it was getting harder to breathe. The uniform- he needed to get out of this damn uniform!

"Coryo?"

Tigris voice sounded far away as he struggled between losing himself to his fears and keeping a composed and prideful image.

He had realized the situation he was in was far from ideal before, but having the capitol, the very people he needed to impress as his enemy could- no would destroy his whole life!

And yours too.

The future he had just seen before his eyes ruined by words of love.

"What do you think they'll-", he still couldn't catch his breath. He needed these peoples on his side, not against him. How had he ended up here, so useless and powerless?

No! He needed to keep it together! He would get through this, like he always did. He would find a way to make this work for him or if there was none, he would come up with something else...

He was smart and his name still meant something. Snow always lands on top.

"I don't know what they’ll do." Tigris answered his question without him having to finish it. The worry in her voice did nothing to quieten his own. "But it's only a matter of time until they will have to act. I just- I wanted to warn you, Coryo."

He nodded, more to himself than her. "I will be fine." He had regained his composure and his voice was perfectly emotionless.

"I am worried for you. I think they might try to-"

He would never find out, if Tigris suspicions had been right, because before she could finish her sentence the call cut off.

Had they listened again?

Was he even safe here anymore?

Two more days passed before they came for him.

Two days he had spent pondering his choices yet felt no confidence as he stepped in front of the commander. His posture was as straight and effortless as always, so one would have guessed he was secretly far from calm.

He had expected to meet his superior in an official building, something elegant, if that even existed in the districts, but instead he was led to a distant part of a warehouse, where the lights flickered and spider webs hung heavy.

Coriolanus saluted in front of the man, then waited patiently for him to speak. He hoped no one could see past his guard, noticed how fast his heart was beating.

"I was informed about certain rumours circling the streets of the capitol these days. I take it you have heard about them too?"

He gave a short nod, forcing his face to remain blank. The man, who he assumed to be in his late fifties took a step closer. His hair was completely grey, except for one white strand. It gave him an upper look that didn't suit the scenery of the district.

Was he from the capitol? He wasn't dressed like it though; he was wearing the peacekeeper uniform, but something told Coriolanus it was a disguise of his real power. The capitol liked their games.

"So what do you think?"

"I think-", he began, but his voice got interrupted by a painfilled scream. His eyes flickered to the door, but it was locked, either side guarded by a peacekeeper. None of them moved and when he turned back to the commander he simply weaved his hand, urging him to continue.

Coriolanus swallowed, taken off-guard by the noise but pulling himself together. "I think it's just that- rumours. Eventually the public will take an interest in different news."

"Ahh, so you don‘t think such a narrative could have an impact on the political climate both in the districts and the caption? That it could send the wrong image?“

Coriolanus pressed his lips together. “I believe-“, but again a cry disrupted his attempt at an answer. It could not be a coincidence that they had chosen this place to talk to him. It had probably been arranged to shaken his composure and unsettle him. He hated to admit that it worked.

It was probably just a thief, paying for her sins. No one that deserved his attention. Yet it was unnerving, a subtle reminder just how quickly he could manoeuver himself into the same position.

“Oh don‘t tell me that’s bothering you?” The man in front of him raised his brows. “You should be familiar with the sound of traitors. So what is it you wanted to say?“

Coriolanus straightened his shoulders, but this time the sound was louder, clearer. It was a scream that cut through the air and it was one he knew too well.

No.

“Mr. Snow, what was it you were saying?“

He blinked in irritation and straightened his shoulders when he realized his loss of posture.

“I was saying that the capitol could own it. Make it their own narrative. A tribute developing…an infatuation“, he felt sick, “with her mentor could be-“ Another scream. He felt his composure crumble. The man tilted his head. He was silently laughing about him, Coriolanus was certain about it. “…helpful“, he finished, clearly distracted by the background noises.

They sounded too familiar, had been the sound of his many nightmares and a silent fear crept up his spine.

What if this was real? What if it wasn‘t his mind playing tricks on him, making everything about you? Seeing, hearing you everywhere..

“So you affirm that this- infatuation as you call it is one-sided and you hold no feelings for you tribute?“

Coriolanus lifted his chin. “I merely did my job. I earned the public’s attention and got them interested in the games again. I turned a tribute with no chances into a winner.“

“So you‘re saying the girl doesn‘t mean anything to you?“

He put on a smile that didn‘t reach his eyes. “I assure you and everyone in the capitol that I do not have any connection to the girl beyond the mentorship and that I have no interest or care for her fate now that I completed my task.“

He had always tried to mask the truth or bend it when he felt he needed to, but lying was a different kind of game. One he felt he was losing.

He could tell himself he did this to protect you. But the reality was that he didn’t know if he did.

No, he had to think of his own life now. It was better this way. He had helped save your life once. Now it was time for you to walk your own path.

“Coriolanus!“ He flinched. It was too late to pretend he hadn‘t, everyone had seen it, but he couldn‘t not react when he heard your desperate voice calling his name.

This whole time his instinct had told him that he was right. That the sounds belonged to you and this was more than just a set-up to unnerve him.

It was a trap.

“What is this?“ His voice came out too sharp and he willed himself to remain calm, but it was impossible, if you were here and you were hurt.

“Oh, it should not be of concern for you as you just told us you do not have any interest in the girl‘s fate.“

Had he just said that? In his head it had sounded much more- convincing. But hearing his own words reflected back to him just made him realise how pathetic they sounded.

They could not be farer from the truth.

“As her mentor I would like to know what you are accusing her of“, he tried a different approach, but it was senseless.

“Oh but Mr. Snow, she is not your tribute anymore. Like you said there is no connection between you and the girl.“

His commander took a step towards him. “Now tell me, which one is the lie?“

Coriolanus swallowed. It took all of him to stand still and keep himself from running after your voice. His body was trembling from the effort. Too long he had been trapped behind a screen, unable to do anything to help you.

But here he could.

Another scream broke the silence. Despite his will he flinched again and closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to stay strong, remain unaffected. But with each sound he felt himself losing control and a hatred took over his instinct.

“I personally believe you have been lying to us for a long time now, Coriolanus. I can see it on your face. But I would like to hear it out of your own mouth.“

Another step closer. Another cry.

“Say it.“

Coriolanus clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists.

“SAY IT!“

His fist connected with the man’s jaw before he could even think about what he was doing. He saw the other two peacekeepers at the door reaching for their weapons, but he was faster and had shot them with his own in an instant.

Without another look at them he ran for the door, following your pleas. His heart was racing as he raced through the corridors and tried to locate where it was coming from.

Hopefully he wasn‘t too late. No, he couldn‘t think like that! Yet the thought of what he might get to see tore at him. He should have acted sooner, he should have- killed these men before they even got the chance to open their mouths. It had been a lost game from the beginning and he was done being their paying piece.

“Coriolanus!“

He had almost made it. Just another room…

Coriolanus pushed it open with so much force that the door crashed against the wall and broke out of its hinges.

Breathing heavily and sweating he came to an abrupt stop and took in the room. It was small, dimly lit, empty. He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the only thing in the room. It was a table and on it-

A cage with a bird.

Part IV

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