#I prayed so much for her wellbeing today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biblioklept-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Secrets and Lies - II

Mafia!Targaryens | Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader

Summary: Daemon Targaryen's family discovers that anger is not a good look on you as you get your first taste of revenge - the fruit so sweet you might just be addicted to it.

Word Count: +12k

Warnings: Allusions to gore, mentions of sexual assault, human trafficking and children in brothels, canon typical violence but make it ✨modern✨, reader goes feral-literally, reader and the green kids working as a team. (if you feel anything else should be here, then do let me know)

A/N: Raw work alert! this is not proofread, and way worse than the first part. I'll read it over and correct any mistakes when I encounter them, but any comment will be useful. Let me know what you think about this in the ask box!

This story will have one more, final part. Until then, you can find my other House of the Dragon works here.

You didn’t feel like going to class for that entire week. Calvin helped you with the classwork, and you were well caught up with your studies, but making that effort to leave the apartment complex was just too much for you to stomach. You even had Aemond turn in your digital electronics assignment for you, unable to gather yourself enough to leave. You would spend time with Alicent, standing behind her like a bouncer ready to throw hands at the slightest bit of danger, then you’d spend your afternoon with little Daeron, teaching him everything you knew about hacking, getting him a Linux to develop thievery bugs. You even helped him on his school assignments, not wanting to be left alone with your thoughts.

In the evening, you would go to Aemond and sit quietly in his study, catching up on the classwork as he did his reading. Even though you weren’t conversing, his presence beside you and the warm silence helped your brain refocus.

When you weren’t busy with any of the siblings, you would cover yourself up and take Coco up to the terrace and play with him, for the German shepherd was your best friend and was catching onto your fowl mood.

But today, on a fresh new Monday you are dressed magnificently in a black denim skirt and a lace black bustier top and a pair of heeled leather boots. You had opted with an all black aesthetic - even your makeup is intense with dark lined eyes and a black choker on your neck. Dressing up well always made you more confident, and you were filled with mad confidence and anger - unable to release all of that even with the week’s worth of harsh training with Criston Cole and the other guards.

I want to break something, you think. Pray no one crosses me today.

The day is as usual, you sit in class, go to the malware detection lab and work on your project. Per usual, you go out during the lunch hour and walk to the cafeteria where you find Aemond, Helaena and Aegon - and it is a rare sight, but one you quite enjoy. Aemond offers to carry your lunch for you, considering you were carrying your laptop case along with your bag.

The three siblings walk to the outside ground to sit in the sun, while you linger back a moment to speak with Sera, the only other girl in your class. She asks for your wellbeing, having learned from Aemond that you had been sick. You politely tell her that you are okay now and thank her for her concern.

It is on your way to the ground that you are irked by a sudden whistle, spotting a group of juniors - this one lead by Rawdon Bolton, the vile smirk on his face and the giggles of his mates making you angrier than you were.

“Why hello there,” He says walking over, voice laced with vice disguised as mirth. “You’re a foxy little lass today, aren’t you?”

You stand there, silently glaring at him, but Rawdon is not deterred. The bastard is too sure of himself, sure that he has easy prey, his pack of hyenas snicker at you.

“It’s a bit odd to see such a lass alone by herself,” Rawdon smirks. “Maybe you could use some pleasant company.” He reaches forward and touches your arm, the touch of his soft, sheltered hands disgusting. You are quick to react to his filthy touch and push him down - he is now laying on the floor with your boot resting on his chest and you glower down at him.

“You didn’t need to do this to get me to lay down baby,” he laughs, icy eyes dark. “Although, I do quite enjoy this view,” he raises his arm in a deliberate motion, soft cold hand coming to rest on the exposed skin just above your knee.

Your blood boils at his lewd words and touch, body acting off its own accord as you grab the hand that lays on your thigh and twist it in the opposite direction until you hear him scream at you to stop, call you crazy, tell you his daddy will have your head, and ultimately a loud snap followed by Rawdon Bolton’s cries of pain.

His elbow is bent at an awkward angle as you step off his chest and pick your laptop case back up and dust yourself, not bothering to look back as you strut away, to the Targaryen siblings.

The three siblings watch you in awe, pride filled in their purple-violet gazes. “That was the shit!” Aegon chuckled, and Helaena nodded in agreement.

“Our feisty girl is back!” Helaena declares, and the four of you sit down to eat the food. You are not too hungry now, but a sadistic satisfaction warms your heart as the whispers around you grow louder, filling you with the good gossip about Rawdon Bolton’s nearly broken arm.

“If you didn’t break his arm, I would have.” Aemond says, but he has a rare, proud smile on his face. You grin sheepishly, and then sit down by the steps.

“Well, that was the entertainment, but now it’s time for food,” Aegon declared, unceremoniously dropping his arse beside you. “Well?” He pointedly looked at Helaena and Aemond, who sat on the steps below you and opened their food.

The day passes quietly enough after that - people moving out of your way when your imposing figure walks by them. You enjoy this - the power that you gave yourself.

“Girl what the fuck am I hearing about you?” Calvin asks the moment you enter class.

“Well, he came to me first,” you shrug. “What was I to do?”

Calvin gives you an incredulous look, his mouth agape. “You do realise exactly who you messed with?” He looks ahead and shakes his light brown head. His warm brown eyes are wide in alarm. “He’s the heir of one of the more powerful families in Westeros, you’re messing with the Mafia here!”

“And I am friends with the Targaryens,” you say, looking up at him through your brow. “I literally don’t give a shit about the Boltons.”

“Yeah, right.” Calvin rolled his eyes. “And I am the mafia queen,”

“My Range Rover didn’t come out of thin air,” you snap at him, irritated. “Calvin, this has nothing to do with you, why are you worried?”

“You have a Range Rover?” Calvin’s eyes are threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

“Are you fucking blind or what?” You say incredulously. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“I… think so?” He says, blinking absently. “I smoked weed last night but other than that I don’t know.”

“That actually explains a lot.” You sigh, anger deflating.

“I’d be worried if I were you,” He said, taking out his laptop.

“Hmm,” you murmur. They should be worried about me, you thought.

You’re currently in the Director’s office, who looks downright terrified of the woman sitting beside you. You had no surname, leaving the KLU admin to believe that you could be scared, but one word to Alicent and she left her husband’s side to storm in and speak some words to him.

“Well, Professor, it is a problem that you are accusing her of being violent when you didn’t question the Bolton boy’s inappropriate behaviour with other women.” Alicent says. “It doesn’t leave a good impression of you. She is the only one who bothered to respond. I will not have this abuse of power by a family of human traffickers.”

“I didn’t know, ma’am,” the Director starts.

“You didn’t know about Rawdon Bolton’s inappropriate behaviour towards other students or did you not know that this girl would have connections with me?” Alicent says. “Either way, I am letting this slide only this one time. If I hear one more complaint about young Mr. Bolton going unanswered, I will have your head. Am I clear, Professor Quent sir?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, even though his clenched jaw twitches.

“Good,” Alicent smiles. Then, calling your name, she waits for you to leave the room before following you out. “That was a little reckless of you, my dear.”

“I know,” You sigh, not regretting your action, rather being upset at making Alicent come over. “I couldn’t really help myself when he was touching my thigh,”

“My sweet girl,” Alicent says, holding your hand delicately, “I am so proud of you for breaking his elbow. Just keep in mind that next time, no one sees you doing it.”

“Okay,” You nod, storing that advice in your head.

You keep that advice in mind as you learn to creep around, hacking into the security systems of the “abandoned warehouses” all over the city of King’s Landing. Daeron helps you whenever he can, finding his purpose amongst the numbers of your Linux and the viruses you can build.

You are keeping all of your friends in the loop - as much as you want to, you know you cannot bring down an entire family without help. Aemond’s obsession with history combined with his electrical engineering degree gives him curious ideas about different torture devices, more than glad to let you experiment on potential targets. Aegon with his deep knowledge of toxicology gives you the poisons for your pins - the kinds that destroy the pin and the target once hitting the skin, untraceable by common post-mortem tests, or the kinds that render the target unconscious for long periods of time. You’ve only tested the second kind as of yet - only immobilising the guards that threatened your presence.

Helaena is your rescue darling, her kind face is enough to lure the young children into the truck, driving away to a safehouse until their homes can be tracked.

It all began with Rawdon Bolton’s filthy hand on you - you guessed you could thank him for being a filthy beast, but you like to think it was Alicent’s advice to remain unseen that really kicked into action.

You’ve spied on all the big families by the time your semester comes to an end - learning that the Starks are leaning to support Rhaenyra once old Viserys finally dies. The Lannisters would support Aegon, and the Baratheons were leaning towards Aegon too. But this little council of you and your friends had other plans, plans that you had been working on for more than a while. The documents were ready, and now you only need the signatures of two people forged well enough to fool the attorney.

With Viserys’ declining health and your rather…stauch reaction to Daemon, Alicent had not extended any further invitation to Rhaenyra’s family, even as her heart begged for a semblance of their old friendship. But some ties were better left broken.

Aemond, by extension grew even more resentful of Daemon, Rhaenyra and the Strong Boys, all of them being favoured by Viserys and being let off their crimes unpunished and without reproach.

It is one of the more rare quiet nights since you have taken on the mission to destroy the Boltons step by step, and you are in the quiet of Aemond’s room, illuminated by the reading light on at his desk. The dim light of the room feels like home, and you are laying in his bed, the smell of limes and new books covering you, cocooning you in a safe haven. Aemond is presently brushing his teeth before he lays for his nightly reading, the running water and the rapid opening and closing of boxes signalling the end of his nighttime routine for his skin and hair.

The tap turns off and he steps out of the bathroom, patting his face dry with a fluffy towel, smiling as he spots you laying on his bed. “Well, hello darlin,” he says, putting away the towel in a hanger. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Nothing,” you say, turning away from him to bury your nose in his pillow. He has the finest silk pillowcases - good for his hair, he claims - and you know that he spends the same time worrying about the texture of his hair just as he cares for Vhagar. You don’t think it’s fair for him to have such healthy, soft hair. “Can’t I be here just because I want to?”

“Well,” he says, sitting at his desk and picking up his book. “Would you like me to read to you?”

“See, I knew you were a smart man.” You say. “Come here,” you pat the spot beside you on his bed, and he rolls his eye with a chuckle, yes ma'am.

“What do you want me to read to you?” He asks, the warmth of his body now beside you. He smells of limes, leather and the new book that he holds.

“Whatever you want to,” you smile, sinking further into the pillow.

He starts reading about Old Valyria and how the first legends came into being. His voice is firm and soothing - you stop hearing his words and getting lost in the smooth tone of his voice. You've already got your arm thrown over him, across his hips and burying yourself in his side by the time you realise what you're doing. You think of pulling away, but he drops his arm on you, holding you close.

You look up when you stop hearing his voice, only to find him staring intently at you. His one lilac eye is dark and full of emotions you have never experienced. You have lost all your vocabulary, and your words are stuck in your throat, not daring to come out. “Aemond,” You say, staring into his intense gaze. The sapphire in his eye gleams wickedly in the dim lighting of his room. His shoulders are warm under your hands, and you are leaning to his pouty mouth, the heat of his body making you forget your words.

“What is it, my darling?” His smooth voice distracts you for long enough to remember your words.

“Kiss me,” you whisper. His large hands are on your face, and you melt into their warm, falling into his lap. "Kiss me until the only thing i know is you,"

Aemond's lips are on yours in an instant, devouring you like a man starved. A fire is ignited in your veins, fingers clutching at his black dress shirt. His familiar scent of leather and limes envelopes you, and his mouth feels like home, moulding against yours perfectly. His hands glide down from your face to the base of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His body is tense, and he is holding back for your sake so your hands go to his silver hair and tug down the hair tie, letting his soft hair fall free and tangle your fingers in those strands until all your senses are full of him and him only. He is on your skin, on your tongue - you can hear him inhale sharply and you can see his one eye closed in pleasure - his lovely scent of leather and limes is so strong you can taste it.

“My beautiful darling,” He breathes against your lips, hands still resting on the base of your neck. “I wish I had both of my eyes so I could see you the way everyone else does,”

“It doesn't matter what everyone else sees,” you whisper against his puckered lips. “I only care about what you see,”

“Perfection.” Kiss. “You're intelligent,” Kiss. “Smart, so smart and so strong,” Kiss. “So pretty and so good to me,” This time, his Kiss lingers, filled with emotions that words couldnt convey. “Owner of my heart… and soul, if I have one.”

“Oh, my love,” you take his face in your hands and plant little kisses all over his face, stroking his sharp jaw. “I have always been yours,”

“Mhm,” he hums, planting another kiss on your forehead. You try to resist the urge of rubbing yourself on him, but your will breaks once his warm hands are on your cold arms - you lean against his chest and deeply inhale his comforting scent, rubbing your cheek against his warm neck to get comfortable. His muscles are firm under your touch, and you know the training does him wonders - his clothes and lean frame are very deceptive, you’ve discovered.

Everything was going according to the plan - all your documents were ready, you just had to get to Viserys’ room. Daeron took the nurse out for a long moment while you and Helaena sneaked into the room. And presently you found yourself waiting for Viserys to gain a semblance of consciousness with the drug Aegon had handed you.

You quickly step away from Viserys’ line of sight, trying not to chuckle at the odd look of Helaena pretending to be Rhaenyra. The older woman’s style is going to be a big no for your friend - and everyone agrees to that. Helaena is a gentle person, but she couldn’t be a Targaryen without a deceptive bone in her body, and she presently she utilises her skills of mimicry, and the delirious Viserys believes Helaena to be his only child, Rhaenyra - and messily signs each paper that you hand him, not even bothering to ask what the document says.

“Be happy, my child.” Viserys says as the effect of the drug starts wearing off.

“I will be now, father,” Helaena says, surprisingly good at pretending to be Rhaenyra. You leave as quietly as you had entered and went to your little experiment lab to splice the monitor footage to Viserys’ power of attorney who was surprisingly a supporter to Aegon’s claim as the heir and wouldn’t hesitate to claim your words to be true. Aegon had already spoken with Jasper Wylde, and he had already shared the footage you needed for the splicing.

You sit in front of your computer, eyes glued to the screen, acutely aware of eager Daeron sitting beside you. His soft lilac eyes are wide and focused on the screen and you, watching you edit the footage of Jasper Wylde to adjust the lighting according to Viserys’ room. You remove yourself from the footage and overlay Wylde instead, leaving Helaena sitting on the old man’s bedside. You had Aemond and Criston watch through the entire footage to ensure it was seamless, watching it over and over again to reassure yourself that nothing seems out of the place. You modify the storage drive a little and around five hours later… voila!

“I didn’t realise it would be this fast!” Daeron says, seemingly blinking for the first time in hours. “And it looks perfect!”

“It took us five hours, my man.” you say, leaning back in your chair and stretching out your now stiff arms and back. “It’s not efficient enough - we need a lot more practice.”

“Considering it was half an hour worth of footage, I think you’re doing great.” Daeron says. “I have a lot to learn from you still, sweet sister.”

“And you shall learn,” you say, ruffling his blond head. You can’t remember, but you do think you had a little brother back when you were six. Somehow seeing a ten year old ball of sunshine and energy made your young teen mind remember - that, or your mind built this false memory to explain the attachment to little Daeron. He was a child prodigy and an overachiever much like his long-haired elder brother, but he still had a year and a couple of months left of high school. Yet, to your mind and heart, he was still the little boy who brought joy to you in your worst time, even as he has grown to be taller than you.

“You’re deceptively smart,” he notes. “It’s a good thing you’re scary to look at.”

“Do you think I'm scary, young man?” you ask, raising your brow.

“Only when you’re mad.” He says, blinking innocently. “You’re great at hiding your emotions behind a dull expression, it’s scary how convincing that is.”

“Hmm,” you acknowledge, not bothering to utter the reason. Aemond comes to fetch you a while later, and you leave Daeron as he was going through Rhaenyra’s apartment security footage. You gather the copies of the documents and leave with Aemond and the dogs to hand them over to Wylde.

Coco and Vhagar are fighting amongst themselves in the backseat of his Rolls Royce, scratching up the expensive leather, but neither of you care. You sit back in your place as the passenger princess, head against the glass of the window and eyes on the beautiful man driving you to your destination. His long silver hair is tied in a long, loose braid, and you wish to pull the hair tie open.

You reach your destination without drawing much attention and Aemond hands over the documents to Jasper Wylde in a room only having them two - you wait in the car with Vhagar and Coco, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

Soon, you get to an expensive cafe and spot a few paparazzi following Aemond around, clicking pictures of the two of you. He holds your hand and stays on the side of the cameras, shielding you from the attention neither of you want or need. You grab a little meal and your coffees with puppuccino for the dogs. They happily yap away the unsweetened whipped cream you hold for them, then Aemond proceeds to act like a total gentleman and open the door for you and help you in, earning a glimpse of your beautiful smile. He glares at the reporters recording you and then swiftly drives away to the park, where you spend the evening with your dogs playing as you finish your coffees and the pasties.

It’s only dusk when Aemond has to leave for a moment, he has a call he cannot ignore. You hold both Coco and Vhagar’s leash, absently walking the park full of people and their pets. It isn’t until Vhagar growls that you pay attention to the young man of dark hair and a rather plain stature in front of you. You’ve seen him a few times before, and the resemblance he holds to his brother is uncanny.

Lucerys Velaryon stands in front of you with his young bloodhound, Arrax, a slight smirk on his face and one hand stuffed in his pocket. You give him your best dead eyes and walk away, having to force Vhagar to walk. You know she is angry at Lucerys, she always is whenever he is over. But she obeys to you, reluctantly.

“You should realise that my uncles and aunt are not Targaryen heirs,” Lucerys says the moment you take your first step away from him. “Aemond is certainly not of any use to you if it is power and money that you are looking for.”

“I have no words to say to you,” You say, trying to walk away again. Vhagar is growing impatient at his voice, her nerves rubbing off on Coco as well as your German Shepherd begins a low growl at Lucerys. Vhagar tugs hard on her leash, and your hand strains to hold her back - greyhounds are one of the fastest dogs, and her limbs are tense, ready to pounce on her target.

“I am just saying that you’ll have more to gain by staying on our side than theirs.” He shrugs. “My mother and step-father will reward you generously.”

At the mention of his stepfather, you grit your teeth, whilst still struggling to hold back Vhagar with one hand. In a moment of weakness, she breaks free of your grip and pounces towards the young man, her jaw wide open, ready to snap. Lucerys barely has any time to react before her jaw snaps, only managing to nip at his little finger before you manage to get a hold of her leash back. “Vhagar, NO!” you scream. She stops, but is still growling at Lucerys, who looks at the greyhound with terror.

He holds his bleeding finger against his chest, the bite not being deep enough to take his finger off. Considering the force of Vhagar’s bite, Lucerys is very fortunate to have gotten off this easy. “Filthy beast bit me!” he accuses.

“You should be glad I held her back in time, boy,” You say through a clenched jaw. “If I hadn’t, she’d have bitten your hand off. Hounds don’t forget people that harm their humans, you should know that.”

“Bitch,” he swears at you before walking away, shaking his hand.

You force yourself to take a few deep breaths and calm down, then walk the dogs again as Aemond jogs up to you to catch up. He takes Vhagar from you and wraps his free hands around your waist, pulling you close and planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “You seem tense, darling.”

“Vhagar was not happy to see your nephew,” You say. “Can’t really blame her though, neither was I. Lucerys Velaryon is not a sight for me.”

“And did something happen?” He asks, hand squeezing your side tighter.

“Vhagar tried to bite his hand off, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” You shrug.

“You shouldn’t bite people unless you are in danger, Vhagar,” Aemond playfully chides her, and she whimpers in response, rubbing herself against his leg. “I know you are mad at him, but you’ll have your time my sweet girl.”

The next morning and the mornings after that, you and Aemond are all over the Page Six news - with the photos from the cafe and a few from the park, and you’re suddenly very uncomfortable. You hadn’t noticed any paparazzi in and around the park, and the thought that someone had been monitoring your movement sends chills down your spine.

“They’re calling you a mystery woman,” Aegon chuckles at breakfast a few days later. “Find out all about the mystery woman with one of the most eligible bachelors in King’s Landing, the headline says, which is not true, considering I am still single.”

“It’s too early for this, Aegon,” you groan. “They’re just gossiping, it’s like their job.”

“Honey, it is their job,” He corrects you. “Although, you two do look cute together. Since when did you become so handsome, Aemond?”

“The moment I decided to speak with my darling,” Aemond answers with a rare smile on his face.

“Holy demons from the seven hells!” Aegon curses, “Who are you and where have you taken my baby brother?!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Helaena speaks up. “Literally no one cares,” she looks at you and then at Aemond with a little smirk. “You two are really cute though. I’d say you keep charms to ward off evil eyes. Too much negative energy and people these days. I like the change she brings in you, Aemond.” She adds, and your face heats up. You love these people so much, you wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Your phone rang, and seeing a video call from Daeron you grinned. "What is it, young man?" You say once his silver head comes on the screen.

"I know you are all gossiping away without me," He whines. "Hi, my brothers and sister,"

"Don't you have classes to attend?" Aegon asks, coming up behind you. "This is very insincere of you, Daeron,"

"You're one to talk," Aemond chuckles. "It's probably his break time."

You look at your little family and smile, leaning into Aemonds warm body beside you, resting your head on his shoulder. Come the night, you will be a different person - and you cannot wait to be one with the shadows once again, to have a taste of revenge.

The night did not get a chance to come - sick, old Viserys decided to leave the realm of the living that evening, and the word spread quickly. Rhaenyra and her family arrive - and you note that the only ones with moist eyes are Alicent and Rhaenyra. It does not come to you as a shock - Daemon Targaryen’s absence - for he has never shown emotions other than lust or fury. Perhaps some say he shows love for his wife, but he does not even utter a word of respect to the one he owes everything to.

It does surprise you that Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey do not shed tears for their grandsire - as horrible as Viserys was, he did care for his grandchildren even more so than he cared about his own as you knew. They are dressed in a dark maroon, and not black or white as the customs rule. The three of them are seemingly enjoying themselves, gossiping away while throwing glances at you and your friends, all of you dressed up in fine black clothes. A light champagne is served to the few guests present - mostly people from Viserys’ council.

Jasper Wylde nods at Aegon and Aemond not paying the rest of you any attention. He stands in the front of the room, beside Viserys’ casket and clinks his glass. “Viserys Targaryen, our stern, kind boss has unfortunately left us on this sad day.” He begins, voice deep but loud. “And I cannot disrespect Boss by delaying the reading of his will any further. A few days ago, Viserys had awakened for a short while and had me come to meet him,” he says, silencing everyone in the room with his words. “And he had me draft a new will for him, the will that I am going to read out to you now.”

“I, Viserys Targaryen, the first of my name, am leaving my business accounts, responsibilities and by extension the buildings of the Red Keep and the handlings in Westeros in my wife, Alicent Hightower’s hands.” A sudden, collective gasp took over everyone present, and you forced your face to a mask of mild surprise - as did Aemond. Aegon played his part of the clown well, with wide eyes and an incredulous grin. Helaena acts ignorant as she usually is, unbothered by everything. Daeron watches with big, curious eyes, seemingly inhaling every word uttered.

“To my eldest daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen, I leave Dragonstone and StygianMarble.” Wylde reads. “Further, I leave Alicent Hightower the freedom to choose her heir per her wishes.”

“This is a lie!” Rhaenyra screams, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “My father would never do this.” She storms to Jasper Wylde and snatches the documents from his hands, violet eyes raking over the paper, turning pages furiously seeing Viserys' messy scrawl of a signature. The horror on her face only intensified on seeing the signed papers. “This is not real.” She exhales a shaky breath.

“I’m afraid not,” Jasper Wylde says. “This was his will, and I shall not disrespect him by listening to your vile accusations.”

“My father would never do this,” Rhaenyra says. You look away from her dishevelled state - she had given birth a few weeks prior, a healthy boy she had named Aegon III Targaryen. And you look over a wide eyed shocked Alicent, who stands beside her equally shocked but more composed father.

“I think he prevented a war from breaking out,” Tyland Lannister says. “Whether people support your claim or Aegon’s - they will all listen to Boss. It's time we have an experienced Mafia Queen.” The last comment is directed at Rhaenyra - the accusation is true but did not elicit a reaction.

“Look at her!” Rhaenyra says, pointing to Alicent. “She didn't even know my father left that in her will.”

“That is because it was between him and me only,” Wylder says.

With the corner of your vision, you notice Steffon Darklyn, one of Rhaenyra’s most trusted bodyguards reaching for the hilt of his hunting knife and you don't have to guess for it to be aimed at Alicent. With quiet steps you blend into the shadows, seeking out their company once again as you swiftly make your way towards Alicent’s shadow. They once again prove to be your trusty companions, and Steffon doesn't notice you and freely approaches the new boss with his arm raised slightly.

Like a shadow demon, you extend your hand and grab him by the wrist with a vice-like grip. You glare at him with the stare of death and he is half startled into submission and he drops the knife, the blade hitting the white marble floor with a loud clang, caught red handed in the act of trying to attack the new boss. You press your lips together, glaring at him in disapproval. “It's not kind to attack a grieving woman at her husband’s funeral.” You quietly say. “Much less in her own house.”

“She’s stealing what is rightfully my Boss', and I will not idly stand by and watch. She is a thief and she’ll get what she deserves” He says through gritted teeth. His free arm grabs for you, almost bruising on your shoulder. “And you are no one to speak to me like that little girl. Let me go.”

When you don't, Steffon twists the wrist in your grip, trying to break free as the bruising grip on your shoulder loosens, the action too quick for you to react. A harsh punch lands on your jaw, and you kick him in the knee, more out of reflex than thought of action. You're not phased too much, honestly you had much worse than that before. Your eyes tear up in response to the pain, but his reaction is much worse - the older man falls to one knee and grabs his injured one, yelping in pain. "Bitch!" He grunts.

"Darklyn!" Rhaenyra yells, angry eyes set on you. "Why would you do that!?"

You don't say anything, just glare daggers at the silver haired woman, eyes asking more questions than your mouth ever could. "I didn't know you wore glasses," you finally say when Alicent gently nudges you, finally over her shock. You massage your throbbing jaw and crack the joints of your neck, wiping away the spit that had fallen at the punch's impact.

Aemond is quick to be at your side and his siblings follow closely, Aegon and Helaena standing on Alicent's side and Aemond and Daeron on yours. "Be careful of the words that leave you next." Aemond warns, voice dangerously low and threatening. Your glare only intensifies with the added confidence.

"Who even is she to speak to in matters of the family?" Jacaerys comes to his mother's defence. Eyes on you, he adds "You're a no one,"

“She is more family than you have ever been,” Helaena mutters, but it's audible in the silence of the room.

“Your personal guard tried to attack the new boss,” Jasper Wylde warned, earning nods from other members of old Viserys' council. “And you claim his will is a lie, and refuse to accept his decision. You are not doing any wonders to your reputation, Rhaenyra. I would advise you to grieve in peace and then act according to your father's will. He would appreciate that. Don't you trust his decision this time? The one last wish that he had of you?”

The silver-haired former heiress calms down a bit at the lawyer's words as Steffon Darklyn is carried out of the room with two of Rhaenyra’s trusted guards. “I would like to examine the documents myself once,” he finally says.

“They are all yours,” Jasper Wylde hands the pile of bond papers. “You can examine them all you want.”

Rhaenyra and her eldest frantically go through the document, studying the paper and examining every single signature of the dead old man.

You thanked whatever divine powers worked this out - that you were able to get the old man’s signature just about a week before he died. You eye everyone in the hall - from Jason Lannister, to Rickon Stark to Criston Cole, Borros Baratheon and the Tyrell girl - the members of Viserys’ council, Otto Hightower and the rest of the family and Rhaena and Baela. The only immediate family member missing was Daemon Targaryen, not even respecting his father-in-law in his death.

Rhaenyra already had tears in her eyes, but now her face is a mask of disappointment and disapproval. “I know he wasn’t in his right mind when he had you write this.” She firmly says. “These might be his words, but he would have never wanted that. I am not sure what you drugged him with, but he’d never do that to me.”

“Even with this will, you are getting Father’s most profitable business,” Aegon says, hands crossed over his chest. His eyes are tinged red - from rage rather than melancholy. You’re not sure if the bitterness in his voice is forced. “He gave you arms production, and your apartment. He left Mother to handle the crime part. Even in death he didn’t put his wife above you. And here you are questioning his decisions.”

Alicent motions to Criston Cole, and he disperses the crowd away from the hall. You begin to walk away, but Alicent grabs your wrist and holds you in place. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet girl.” she insists. “Thank you.”

You nod, unsure of how you could tell her that you were grateful to her, for allowing you to have this lifestyle to have a civil life after your doomed existence, for her patience to have you adjust with the civil world after years of being passed around all over Westeros. This is the least you could do for her, and you should be thanking her for everything that she has done to you, for letting her amazing children be your friends, for birthing your perfect lover.

“Rhaenyra, you lost your father, and I lost my husband.” Alicent says, her big brown eyes filled with tears of sorrow. “But I want you to put your grief aside for a moment and respect your father’s will. I can only offer you my condolences and to stay in Viserys’s chambers in this period of mourning. I hope that will be enough to push some sense into your head - Mafia lord or not, Viserys was a kind father to you. The least you can do in return is accept his will.” Her voice breaks, and you are amazed at how this strong, strong woman could mourn for the man who made her life hell, who did not pay any mind to the children that she bore for him.

You had more than a couple of harsh questions for the heiress, but you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to swallow the words that came to your mouth.

“You don’t have the right to offer me my father’s house.” Rhaenyra’s words are harsh, probably from her delirious grief, but it is then that you snap.

“If he was so dear to you, where had you been all these years as he slowly decayed away to his sickness?” Your voice is full of bite.

“What do you know of me and my father?” the silver-haired woman snaps. “You are just a no one who came out of nowhere like yesterday and you feel entitled to speak with me like that?”

“I can assure you that I have lived here longer than either of your sons have,” you say, having snapped the thread of your will. “And you might be surprised by the extent of my knowledge on this whole mess of a family.”

“Have some respect, you’re speaking to my mother,” Jacaerys demands, standing on his mother’s right. His brown eyes are wide in anger, but his dull figure is not intimidating at all.

“And what has she done to earn my respect?” You shrug. “The first time I saw you, you had wanted an injured child having his eye sewn shut to be tortured for calling your sons bastards. The last time I saw her at a sitdown with the mob families, her disgusting husband shot an important family man in front of the whole mob and she didn’t even bat an eye on it. I’d say she looked pleased, even. Rhaenyra, would you have another man killed for telling the truth?”

You tilt your head slightly to the side at the mother and sons’ alarmed expressions, a haunting smile gracing your face. Rhaenyra quickly composes herself, “My husband doesn't like when people disrespect me.” She says, lips pressed together in a smoulder. “You should be careful too.”

“And where is your so dutiful husband now?” You hiss, and Alicent places her hand on your arm, squeezing. You know that she wants you to stop, but you can’t now. Not when the poison in your veins threatens to explode, if you don’t let it out, the misery will suffocate you and might just be too much to bear. “With his lovely young Nettles, I presume?” you add with a sneer. “Fucking pedophile.”

The mention of Daemon Targaryen’s favourite young little whore is what finally has Rhaenyra’s walls crumbling, and her left eye twitches in uncontrolled rage. You smirk at her, enjoying this destruction of her peace. Alicent’s hand is still on your arm, squeezing at it, harsher now, wanting you to stop.

“I am not sure why you have this vendetta against my step-father,” Lucerys finally speaks up. “But you probably deserved it, you bitch.”

And your rage explodes like a sparked dynamite. Alicent released your arm, unwilling to hold you back now. Every moment of those blurred six years that you had spent in that hellhole of a place seemed to be playing in your head like a tragic, horror movie. The image of those disgusting old men touching you without a care in the world - the fight response kicking in your veins. You are on their side in an instant, and you punch the younger boy in the face - you don't see Lucerys - in your eyes he is one of those filthy old beasts that call themselves men of class. You fist lands right on his left eye, and he grunts - pushed back by the force of your punch. Aemond and Aegon both rush to your either side, holding you back with all the force that they could muster.

Everything happens so quickly - you feel nothing but white, hot rage toward that family, each one of them entitled to everything in the world. “He’s not worth it, my love.” Aemond’s quiet voice whispers in your ear, and you let him drag you away from this infuriating trio of mother and sons - the hall enveloped in total silence. “Let me take you somewhere more pleasing.”

“I should have strangled them,” you mumble.

“All in good time, my love.” Aemond promises.

Aegon holds them all with an angry stare, Rhaenyra tending to Lucerys; bruising eye - it looks painful, and would probably swell too. He couldn’t care less, not when the young man deserved it. Lucerys should be glad that none of the hounds are there - they’d have done some serious damage with the fury they had ignited in every single one of them.

“You should be glad she didn’t have any weapons on her,” Aegon says through gritted teeth. “Don’t overstay your welcome - our Sunfyre doesn’t take kindly to uninvited guests, you know. Neither do I.” He walks away, Daeron and Helaena follow him.

The three are waiting for Alicent and Otto to return, and when they do Daeron is the one to speak up first, “They cannot live here with us, Mother.” he runs his fingers through his silver waves, sighing. “Not with how they act and speak.”

“I will try my best to limit their interactions with you, my children.” Alicent sighs, rubbing her forehead. “And I will make sure they do not speak of Daemon. I have never liked that man - he had always been quite the… rogue soldier.”

"You should have them kicked out." Aegon presses. "I wouldn't be surprised if my dear sister plans to take over our house by killing all of us. It's just not safe!"

"Viserys was her father and I cannot deny her the right to mourn in peace." Alicent sighs. "I will have Criston increase the security though."

"This will bite back in the ass." Helaena grumbles. "None of us trust her mother - she is not your friend anymore. She is a jealous ex heiress and might stoop low enough to kill us all in our sleep."

"It's just a matter of a week," Alicent says, hand on her chest. "We can manage."

"You say it's a week - a week when Aemond has to leave for his conference in Highgarden." Daeron notes. "He is our best fighter and I honestly don't feel particularly safe in his absence while the enemy lives in our home."

It is now two days later, and Aegon watches as Aemond ruffles Daeron's hair and asks him random questions in Computer vocabulary that he doesn't clearly understand. His youngest brother perks up like a sunflower and aptly answers the questions.

Helaena cannot stand saying goodbye - it feels like an omen, she claims. Their mother is there, and she murmurs blessings to Aemond, caressing his shoulders. She is tense, Aegon can see that - sending away her favourite son is a risky gamble and she insists on Criston going with him, leaving them almost completely defenceless. He cannot blame her though - Aemond’s safety is just as important.

The brothers only hug, and Aegon only pats his little brother’s back saying, “You’ll get the best paper award, I know it.”

“I'd be the happiest if I do,” Aemond grins.

“I beg to disagree,” Aegon says, glancing over to his side, with you sitting on the bench, looking down at your hands. To his surprise, Aemond blushes and Aegon cannot help but smirk as he shoves his little brother your way.

As happy as Aegon is for you two, there is a little envy of the way the two of you beam like diamonds in each other’s presence, wondering if he would ever have someone like that. You hug him tightly and then crane up to kiss his cheek - Aemond smiles as do you, and he quickly snaps a picture to tease two sappy lovers. He looks away when Aemond kisses you.

Then Aemond waves at all of you as he gets in the car after Criston, a happy smile on his face. You begin to walk away and the two remaining brothers flank your sides.

“If either one of my nephews bother you, tell me.” Aegon promises you. “I won’t be sad if you hurt them, but mother wouldn't be too happy.”

“I am planning to go for a drive and walk Coco and Vhagar.” You say. “I won't have time to see those annoying little nephews of yours.”

“Good then.” He says, a feeling of dread dropping to the pit of his stomach.

The awful feeling keeps clawing up his insides, and by dinner time when you have not returned it starts clawing at his throat. Aegon keeps a watchful on his half-sister and his nephews - something about them feeling off. Their eyes sparkle with mirth, as if they share an inside joke that has been made at their cost.

It happens quickly, too quick for Aegon to reach for his revolver. The masked men target Daeron and Helaena first - then Alicent and Otto. A blade is pressed into the column of his throat - not cutting through yet. The blade would cut if he breathes too aggressively so he holds his breath.

“Out of the chairs, now,” Rhaenyra says with a smirk. Lucerys and Jacaerys smile of their own accord, the two pairs of dark brown eyes jumping from Aegon, to Daeron to Helaena. Lucerys' eye is swollen, but not enough to take the vision from his eye, and for a moment of spite, he prays that it would have, serving the young man right. Otto reaches for his pistol, but the big man beats him to it, now holding Otto's pistol to his own head along with the knife at his throat.

Aegon has both his hands being held behind him in a grip like vice. If he makes it through the night, they'd certainly be bruised. “Very generous of you to offer this special treatment,” He says. “But I'd appreciate not having a blade digging into my larynx.”

“I’ll have your throat slashed if you speak again,” Rhaenyra threatens. “I’ll take what's mine and maybe spare your life.” She twirls a small knife in her hands and adds thoughtfully, “not that bitch of yours though. I’ll have my time enjoying her screams.”

“Alicent, we can have this done in an easy way - you sign the documents naming everything to me and I'll not hurt anyone.” She says. “Or I’ll start with taking sweet Helaena’s nails. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

There are tears in his Mother’s eyes that he cannot wipe away. He can only hope to disarm the man holding him, but he cannot - there are too many of them to fight and they could kill his family for freeing himself, a risk he cannot afford to take.

Aegon is surprised to feel someone’s two elbows dig between his shoulder blades, for he is certain that only one man was holding him and that men only had two arms. The unmistakable crack of bones breaking fills his ears momentarily and he tries to look behind himself. His surprise turns to alarm when the hand gripping his wrists together loosens and falls, following the knife being dropped from his throat - and he can finally breathe again. A delicate hand is wrapped around his arm and tugs him back, and he is glad to have you on his side - for the look in your eyes promises a fate more barbaric than being burned alive.

“You will release my family,” You say, voice deathly still.

“I will-” Rhaenyra starts.

Five shots echo, interrupting Rhaenyra’s sentence before it even starts, and the five men holding his grandsire, mother, sister and brother fall dead on the floor with perfectly shaped bullet wounds oozing blood from their foreheads.

“You were saying something?” You ask, smiling as if you didn’t just send five men to Hell - well, six, if counting the man whose neck you snapped.

Jacaerys and Lucerys cave into their mother - Aegon cannot blame them, he, too, would hide behind his mother had he been at the receiving end of your sinister eyes. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes are wide with shock and fear - a look that suits her, he thinks.

“Cat got your tongue?” You ask again, the long barrel of your piston towards the floor, but your hand is raised in the trio’s direction. You slowly stalk toward them, twirling your piston between your fingers. “This fear suits you,” you finally say. “Keep this in mind the next time you plan to harm my family. Your goons will not be the only ones dropping dead the next time it happens. Off now, dinner’s over.”

Lucerys and Jacaerys follow their mother, wide-eyed as they take a good look at the five large, dead men laying on the floor, their blood turning the white marble a dark shade of red. Alicent looks at you as if seeing you for the first time - he cannot blame his mother - you have a naive face, no one could guess you are capable of such brutality. It’s a weapon, Aegon thinks, a weapon of mass deception.

Daeron looks wide eyed at the dead bodies, shuddering once before stepping over two pairs of immobile legs and coming to stand beside him. Aegon raises his arm and pulls his brother close. After all, Daeron is still young and not too used to violence. Helaena looks at you deeply once, your eyes are trained on the floor - Aegon thinks you are afraid, afraid of judgement - he cannot begin to imagine why, for you have just saved their lives and their rights.

“You saved our lives,” Helaena says. “I don’t think words would be enough to thank you.”

“It was nothing.” You say, voice small. You look up once again and glance at the dead bodies scattered in the room. “This one is not dead,” You say, nodding toward the man that had been holding Aegon hostage. “I’ll have him questioned once he wakes, but I need help to move him - there.”

Aegon and Daeron both come to your aide and together manage to lift the burly man, taking him to the lift. You stuff the pistol in the back pocket of your jeans and then walk out of the room, saying, “I’ll send someone to clean this mess up.”

That had been the first time the Velaryon boys had seen you snap. The fear it had left in their brain had dulled in comparison to what they witnessed a mere two days later though. The sight of you was enough to send their thoughts right back to Hell - the place you had returned from.

With Aegon’s help, you had managed to obtain the full layout of the Bolton’s Knight Club. And with little assistance from Daeron, you sneak into the premises. His voice is in your ear, telling you the position of the guards and which point would be easier to sneak in from. You are upset that Daeron has to witness you going apeshit on camera, but you couldn’t do everything alone. You kill those guards as bloodlessly and quickly as you can and find your way to the children’s rooms.

In the earpiece, you can hear Daeron speak with Helaena as he tells her the route to follow and she follows you in as you work to pick the locks. You remind yourself that you have done this a hundred times before tonight, but this place with its dark luxurious interior makes your blood boil to an extent that you are unable to think clearly. You want to stomp on the roof till this building collapses with everyone in it.

You waste precious seconds in picking the lock, but those moments are paid off as you see beds by beds of little boys and girls looking at you all wide-eyed and terrified. You spot some young women and men too - them eyeing your duo warily. Helaena starts with her gentle words and you can see them trusting her, as they file into two queues of around fifty people total.

You know they think that this is a dream, a dream seen by most of them in their sleep. An angel coming to save them from this hellish world, to tell them they were only being tested and to be returned to their families. For you that dream could never be your reality, but you want to provide that reality to these kids whose innocence is stolen before they even got to realise life. Some of the young children are as young as four - barely out of the toddler stage, and your heart twists in disgust. You can only hope that her parents take her back.

A young woman clings to a little babe - barely over six months old. You motion at her to follow the other kids, but she refuses, terror in her eyes.

“What is your name?” you ask, as gentle as you can be.

“Martha,” she replies.

“Martha, listen, I know you are scared to leave.” You keep the voice gentle, force it to stop shaking. “You think that these people are the most powerful in the world and they will catch you. I am asking a lot from you when I ask you to trust me, but I have been here before and I know that it will not get better. It never does. Helaena will take care of you so that you can take care of your baby.”

“They said they’ll kill my sweet Ellaire if I try to run.” Martha says with tears in her eyes. Her dark hair is a mess, brown cheeks turning a dark burnt orange. “I can’t put Ellaire at risk.”

“Martha, if you stay here they’ll do to Ellaire what they did to you.” You softly say the truth. “And I know you don’t want that. We can help you, please come with us.” You glance down at your watch and urgently add, “We don’t have much time.”

At her hesitation, you further add, “Everyone else has left, what do you think they will do to you and Ellaire when they see that you’re the only ones left?” You grab her wrist, careful of the babe. “Do you think they will let little Ellaire live? You have to leave. Now. Come with me.” Somehow you manage to coax her and she follows everyone else out to Helaena’s truck. Aegon is with her, waiting to drive away. You had ensured that those traumatised kids and young adults did not come across the dead guards - they didn't need to see dead bodies with the physical, psychological and sexual trauma that they already held.

“Okay, we are done now!” Helaena says in your earpiece. “Daeron, is the path clear?”

“Not yet.” Daeron says. “There’s a truck like yours at the back gate.”

“Shoot the driver dead,” you hiss. “I am sure they have brought new stock. Helaena, can you drive a truck?”

“Oh yeah,” Helaena eagerly says.

“Aegon, get that driver and his handler good for me.” You quietly say again.

“On it, ma’am.” Aegon says, and you hear the opening and shutting of the door. A small shuffling sound is heard and Helaena sighs.

Two gunshots and dull thuds come into your earpiece and once again the opening and closing of truck doors is heard. “Alright, we’re done.” Aegon says. “Are we free to go now, captain?” he asks Daeron

“Yeah,” Daeron says. “You’re all clear.”

“Daeron,” you quietly say. “I am going to have to ask you to look away from the cameras now. You’ll hate me after this if you see.”

“I don’t think I will,” He says. “You’re doing everyone a favour with what you are about to do. Decimate them all.” His voice is venomous as he speaks, and you think he sounds more mad at them for you than you are.

“I will,” you promise.

It’s way past midnight, closer to the devil’s hour than it is to midnight by the time you are done with the Botlon’s Knight Club and its patrons. Your face is probably covered in blood, and your hair is heavy - damp and sticky. Your black leather jacket is covered in blood, but the dark colour makes it harder to spot. Dried blood marks your footsteps from the lift to the kitchen on Alicent's floor, working in the dark. You’re thirsty, terribly so. You’re covered in blood and desperately need to bathe, but you’re starving and you’re thirsty. A few drops of blood drip down from your braid onto the granite counter as you drain a jug of water quickly.

Your burning oesophagus and stomach thank you with relief as the cool water falls on them, reviving some of the sensations. There’s some leftover cake in the fridge and you take it out along with some cranberry juice and the butter chicken leftovers that you warm up in the microwave. You’re starving like a neanderthal - so hungry that you could eat a horse. But soon the chicken is hot enough to burn your tongue and you start eating on the kitchen island, stabbing at it with your fork and gulping it down with no civility.

You are practically inhaling the cranberry juice from the glass when the light is suddenly turned on, blinding you momentarily as a set of vaguely familiar voices screams, snapping you out of the starved trance you are in. You slowly blink in your vision, and spot Jacaerys and Lucerys standing at the kitchen entrance, staring at you, their eyes comically wide. You are about to ask if they have seen a ghost, but then you look down at yourself, covered in blood and drinking a juice red as the blood on you.

Rhaenyra and Alicent follow close, standing behind the two strong boys - Alicent sighs and shrugs as Rhaenyra looks at her former friend for some answers. You ignore them and continue to drink your cranberry juice - realising just now that you probably smell like smoke. You need to bathe, dreadfully so, but your cake slice was waiting for you. And you’re still fucking starving, so you dig back into butter chicken.

“Do you want to eat or just keep staring at me?” You ask after gulping down the last of your butter chicken.

“Y/N, you’ll need to have the kitchen cleaned before breakfast.” Alicent says, turning around as she yawns. “Go sleep, you three. Nothing out of the ordinary here.”

“Filthy demon,” Rhaenyra murmurs.

You hiss at her and the terrified trio rushes away from your kitchen, and you finally get to your cake. Having satiated your hunger, you return to your rooms and take a long, cleansing bath and then return to clean the lift with very contained smoke and then clean it with hydrogen peroxide. You are thorough in your cleaning, careful with the controlled smoke and then with peroxide followed by floor-cleaner. It’s past four in the morning by the time you are done, but you still have much energy left to expend. You play with the harddrive you had retrieved from the Knight’s Club, and sit down in front of your computer, easily accessing the cameras that had been connected to the Bolton’s private network till around nine in the night.

There is no physical evidence of footage, but you find your way into the Bolton’s cloud storage and erase the footage from there too, making sure to clear any traces of your invasion. It was simply as if the footage from that night was never stored on the cloud. You plug in the harddrive and remove the footage from there too, and then throw it in your fireplace. The outer plastic casing eventually melts away and you enjoy the flames dancing in front of your eyes. Alas, the fire is not hot enough to melt the circuits, but by the time you retrieve the half molten plastic, the circuit is easy to dismantle and you pick it out piece-by-piece and destroy the pin.

The fire from the previous night is the only thing being spoken of all over the university - assignments and homework, deadlines and new presentations forgotten. Early police investigation suggests that the fire was the culprit that claimed the lives of a total of sixty men - thirty guards and around thirty most powerful men in Westeros - with the Knight’s Club owners and runners - Reese Bolton, his brothers Ryman and Roose, his sons Rawdon and Raymond, a Velaryon man, Petyr and Edwyn the Frey twins, are the more notable among other names.

You don’t care about that buzz though, because Aemond is set to return this evening. You have sparsely spoken to each other, only occasionally texting a have you had dinner, or how did your presentation go, kind of thing - but no proper conversation. You think of him - how his scent of leathers and limes comforts you and you cannot wait to have him back in your arms.

The day passes by in a blur - the student’s union holds a short memorial ceremony for Rawdon and Raymond but you don’t go - you’d probably oust yourself by laughing. How they managed to recognize the dead men was still a mystery to you, for you were certain DNA tests couldn’t be this fast - it must have been the footage of them all entering, perhaps.

The police says there was a fire down in the electrical supply and it short circuited, and the centralised air conditioning collapsed on the people, crushing their faces. They didn’t know that the air conditioning crushed them after they were lying dead in pools of their own blood. You had used a wide variety of weapons, which you spent a terrible hour in the morning cleaning before driving to King’s Landing University.

Despite the blood colouring your hands red, you feel like the cleanest you have ever felt.

“Did you hear about the fire at Bolton’s last night?” Calvin asks you as you slide into place beside him in the algorithms class.

“Everyone is talking about it,” you say. You don’t have to fight too hard the urge to take credit. You want to, so desperately, but you resist it. You’ll have time later in the evening when Aemond is back. “I really don’t care though. As you know I was not particularly fond of Rawdon Bolton after that incident two weeks ago.”

“Of course,” Calvin says. “And you seem too happy,”

“Do I?” You ask.

“Yeah, glowing.” He nodded, an exasperated look on his face.

“My boyfriend is coming back from his conference,” You say, which is the truth. “I haven't seen him in three days! I missed him terribly.”

“Uhm, since when do you have a boyfriend and why don’t I know about this?” Calvin asks, a pout on his face as he rests his chin on his hands.

“Well, it’s just Aemond,” you shrug.

“Just Aemond?” he asks, incredulous. “Girl, you’re speaking about the Aemond Targaryen, right? Viserys Targaryen’s son?”

“Yeah, who else?” You frown.

“Girl what-” he seems shocked by your indifference, a hand on his mouth. “You’re dating Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed mob… prince?”

“Yes, Calvin. Did you leave your brain at home or what?” you say.

“You’re dating Aemond fucking Targaryen-” He repeats. “And you expect me to be cool about it?”

“You were stoned the first time I told you about that,” You recall. “Calvin, I told you about this before, I am sure.”

“Must be,” He decides. “Because I’d never forget that otherwise.”

The news of the fire in Reese Bolton’s Knight Club has reached Aemond, clearly so. He wonders if it is truly an accident, but he doesn't believe it. He hadn't spoken with you since last evening, when you had ominously said, "I will be busy tonight, my love." You gave no further explanation.

As he drives into King's Landing via the highway, Criston sits in the passenger side, looking rapidly from mirror to mirror, eyeing for anyone who might be following them. Aemond zig zags this way through the highway, doing his best to keep everyone confused.

There had been an attempt at him while he was in his hotel at Highgarden, but Criston had managed to save him by a second. A masked man had tried to shoot him, and he was captured by Cole and was presently tied up and hidden in the trunk of the car. He has some words to ask about the ambush. They managed to keep it under wraps, but he suspected it had something to do with his Mother being named heir and Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.

Even with his disturbed mind, Aemond managed to get the best poster award, even if he didn't get the best paper one. He had just shrugged when you had asked about how it went, not wanting to tell you over the phone.

Aemond misses the warmth of your body against his, but he tries not to think about it too much and focuses on the road instead, hurrying to reach the Red Keep as fast as he can.

It's a little past sunset when he reaches home, and you are walking in the direction of the complex Vhagar and Coco on either side. The dogs rush at the sight of him and you let them go, and both the greyhound and the German shepherd seem to have gained their energy back at the sight of your silver haired boyfriend, and you let them off their leash, the two of them speeding to the black suv. Vhagar jumps on Aemond, as if trying to hug her human while Coco sniffs around, licking at Criston’s hand, rubbing himself all over his knees and calves. Cole lets out a rare laugh, patting the big ball of fluff on his head, murmuring, “Good boy Coco, I missed you too.”

“I missed you too, big girl,” Aemond kissed the running dog’s snout and rubbed under her ears as you managed to catch up with your pups. You smile at Criston who finally manages to escape Coco’s clutches only to be smothered by Vhagar, while Coco now targets his affections to Aemond, standing on his hind legs with his front legs on Aemond and leaving little licks on the scarred side of his face.

“I see you have been a good boy, Coco,” Aemond says, rubbing the german shepherd’s brown fur. You chuckle as your dog turns his butt to Aemond, demanding his long overdue butt-scratches, and your beautiful boyfriend has no choice but to oblige.

“Come with me pups,” Criston urges the dogs who eagerly follow him into the lift, smiling at the two of you as he leaves.

“Hi,” you say, unable to fight the big grin on your face.

“Hi yourself, my love.” He says, grinning like an idiot. “How I have missed you so.”

You reach forward and hug him, his homely smell enveloping you in blankets of comfort. His strong arms hold you close and his nose rests in your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Your eyes are shut and you can listen to his steady heart beat, his warmth bringing you much needed comfort.

“I love you,” you whisper against him, and he squeezes you tighter in response, leaving a long kiss on your hair. His lips move against your hair - you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart and his - but you know what he says sigh.

“How was your conference?” You ask, pulling away from him. You examine him from head to toe, brushing back some of his out of place hair, your hand on his cheek. He loved the comfort your calloused hand brings to him, leaning further into your touch.

“Not peachy,” he confesses with a sigh. “I still got the best poster award though.”

“What happened, Aemond?” You ask. You have that alarmed gleam in your eyes that he recognises way too well, and he knows it’s too late to retract.

So he attempts to distract you. “Nothing,” He says. “Nuff talking about that conference though. I want to spend time with my girl now,” he smirks a little and before you can react, you are thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, a sudden gasp leaving you as he takes the fucking staircase up.

“Aemond, put me down you rascal!” You say with a giggle as he carries you up unceremoniously till the first floor landing. Aemond stops for a moment and he gently lets your feet touch the ground, and you think you are going to go to your rooms in Otto’s floor, before you are swept up into his arms again, bridal style this time. You laugh again, more freely this time as he takes the lift, a little proud smile on his face. His long, silky hair tickles your neck as you lean forward to plant a kiss at the corner of his heart shaped mouth, content with yourself.

The lift halts at Alicent’s floor - the second - before coming to Aemond’s floor - the sixth one - and the lift doors open to reveal Jacaerys. Your happy mood sours at his wavering voice, “You’ve returned, Uncle.”

“It would seem so,” Aemond says, and you scowl at the young man before hitting the close button with your foot, promptly taking the Velaryon boy out of your sight.

“They’ve caused quite a mess in your absence,” You tell Aemond, absently playing with his hair. “I can’t fucking wait for them to leave.”

“Hmm,” Aemond hums, mentally taking note of asking Aegon about it later. You and Alicent would hold back details from him - he is certain. “We’ll get to that later. I hear there was a fire last night.” he looks at you with a smile. His eye hurts from this angle but it’s worth being able to see the slight pride blooming in your face as your cheeks colour. “It wouldn’t have been your doing would it be, darling?”

“No, not at all,” you say with a smile. “Me? Little old me doing anything like that?”

“Unimaginable,” Aemond adds. “Impossible, Inconceivable.”

“Any other synonyms left, good sir?” you poke his long, pale neck with your nose. He smells a little of sweat, but you have smelled worse.

“Unbelievable, my love.” He teases.

tags:

@p0rnstargirl @aerysa-targaryen @warners-wife

@dollfaceyourfear @ladymoon666 @chainsawsangel @esmaada @amadwomanrambles @devils-blackrose @darthgamer74 @jbaby2

@its-sam-allgood @aemondmyl0ve @pingyu-in-wonderland @poisonedsultana

@a-beaverhausen @virginslut08 @depressedperson88

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #daeron targaryen x reader #mafia!targaryens #hotd x reader #hotd au #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen

260 notes · View notes

lilypadlys · 11 months ago

Text

Domestic December Day 21 - Massages

Terzo massages your back while you do paperwork

Notes: Prompt list by comp-lady. See prompt list here

Massages below the cut or on AO3

Today was, for lack of a better phrase, hell. Your day started at five A.M. when you were woken up by a missett alarm on your phone and you couldn’t get back to sleep. It wouldn’t have been as bad if you’d gone to bed on time but midnight mass saw to it that you were up until two. Running on three hours of sleep, you just decided to drown yourself in coffee and pray to Satan that you could get through the day.

You make your way to the kitchens and attempt to make pleasant conversation with the kitchen ghouls and medical wing staff, the only other souls awake at this unsatanly hour. Stardust, one of the quintessence ghouls who works in the infirmary hands you a huge mug of coffee which you gratefully accept. She also gives you a blueberry muffin and a sympathetic look.

“Didn’t sleep well?”

“Nah. Got about three hours. I’ll be fine though.” You shrug.

You thank her for breakfast and head out while munching your muffin. The caffeine helps marginally and feeling slightly more alive, you make your way to Sister Imperator’s office for the day’s chores. To your sheer delight (not) she hands you a huge stack of the ministry’s paperwork and tax forms which you take back to your office with a sigh.

It’s just one of those days.

You get started on your work as best as you can, but by lunch your head is nodding and eyelids drooping. You’re not sure you can make it through the rest of the day.

Just then you hear a knock at your closed office door. Your door policy is explicitly clear. If the door is closed, it better be an emergency for you to be interrupted. Siblings and ghouls alike have learned that lesson the hard way.

“Come in!” You call.

“Ciao amore.”

“Hullo Terzo.” You can’t help but roll your eyes good naturedly and smile. Your lover is the one exception to the emergencies only rule.

“And what emergency have you brought for me today?” You make little air quotes.

Terzo puts on a playful pout. “Just that I miss you oh so very much my dear.”

“You saw me at mass. And we share a bedroom”

“But that was hours ago.” He whines. “Then to wake up with the bed cold and empty!” He fakes a swoon.

“Not my fault you sleep like the dead and didn’t hear my alarm.”

He scoffs and waves his hand. “Beauty sleep is important. Besides, I hear you didn’t get enough rest last night.”

You sigh. “Did Starry send you? I told her I was fine-”

“Ah ah ah,” He stops you. “She was just looking out for your wellbeing. And now that I’m here I can see it for myself. You must rest tesoro. You are exhausted.”

“But I need to finish this.” It’s your turn to whine as you gesture down at the paperwork scattered on your desk.

“So stubborn.” He tuts, already crossing to you. “At least let me help you relieve some tension, hmm?” He mimes rubbing your shoulders. “That way you can still work but at least feel a little better.”

You consider his offer and nod. A massage does sound amazing. And if it would get him to let you get back to work all the better.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course amore.” He removes his gloves and sets to work rubbing your neck and shoulders.

Almost immediately you melt into his gentle hands. He starts slow and easy, just running his hands over your shoulders, feeling out the tight spots. Then with a tap to your shoulder blade as a warning, he digs his fingers in slightly and begins to work your tense muscles.

Your pen falls out of your hand and your head droops as he presses the heel of his hand into a particularly sore area. You can’t help a slight groan at the pressure and ache.

“Hurts? I’m sorry cara. This will make it feel better I promise.”

“Isfine.” You slur, not even looking up. You wave a hand to tell him to keep going. You’re not getting any more work done, you can already tell.

One shoulder loosened up, Terzo moves to the other and repeats the process of gently massaging your sore muscles. He alternates using the tips of his fingers and his palms, as well as modulating the pressure.

By this point you’re slumped over your desk, chin resting on your folded arms.

“No wonder you're sore if this is your idea of posture.” He teases.

It’s a testament to how tired you are that you don’t snap back with a playful snipe of your own.

“Up.” He pats your shoulder. “We’re heading to bed. I’ll finish massaging your back and then you’re taking a nap.”

You make to protest but he shushes you.

“Ah ah. I don’t want to hear any excuses. See, you're yawning.”

You stifle your yawn too late and roll your eyes. All the same, you stand and let Terzo guide you to the door.

“After you’re rested, I’ll send a ghoul to assist you with the rest of your work. Until then,” He scoops you up effortlessly and you hum happily. You press your cheek to his chest to feel his steady heartbeat. After shutting your office door behind the two of you, he carries you back to your shared quarters. He lays you on the bed before turning to rifle through your dresser. When he returns it’s to hand you a change of comfy clothes.

The both of you change into lounge clothes, and Terzo even washes off his papal paints. You raise a brow.

“I wouldn’t want to smear the sheets now would I? I’ll reapply them later. Now get comfortable, amore.”

You lay on your stomach as he stands next to the bed. As promised, he resumes the massage, paying special attention to your back. You sigh contentedly as he works out a knot that had been plaguing you for a week. You’ve completely melted into a puddle by this point, relaxed and sleepy.

“Nap time then?”

“Uh huh.” You agree without protest.

“Rest well tesoro. Sweet dreams.”

Terzo joins you on the bed and pulls you into his arms. As you settle down, head on his chest and arms around him, he pulls the covers up over the two of you.

#the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #papa terzo #terzo #terzo emeritus #terzo/reader #massages #fluff #domestic december 2023 #lys writes

11 notes · View notes

out-with-the-boys · 1 month ago

Text

The Dance- Chapter 11

Homelander x Supe OC

Notes: 18+ No warnings apply for this chapter. Each chapter will have individual content warnings as they apply to avoid spoilers. Find this work on AO3. Tumblr master post here.

Previous chapter.

Morgan tightened her fists, feeling the sweat beading on the back of her neck under the glaring set lights. Adam was barking orders, repositioning the camera crew for the third time in an hour, but her mind was elsewhere. Homelander’s presence loomed nearby, as it had all week.

She could feel him watching her from the sidelines, his attention too intense, too focused. They’d all been dealing with the fallout from the leaked video. She’d had to keep a close eye on him because of it too.

Though, keeping that close eye on him wasn’t hard at all. He was always there, hovering. First it had been saving her a seat at meetings, then ‘accidentally’ showing up at her gym time, and most recently, a handful of uninvited visits to her apartment under the guise of checking in.

Today was no different.

“Alright, let’s break for lunch, people!” Adam called out, snapping her back to reality. “Psyren, you good?”

She nodded, trying to shake the weight of Homelander’s gaze.

“You sure?” Adam asked, his voice getting a little quieter as he approached, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Something about your performances today has been a little stiff. Your ribs aren’t still bothering you, are they?”

Morgan had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at him. One glance into his head told her that he wasn’t really concerned about her wellbeing. If anything, he was just trying to find a reason why she wasn’t doing as well as she had the last time she had been on set. If anything, he was holding back a tidal wave of frustration.

“Listen, Adam, I know I haven’t been on my A-game today.” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I think I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed is all. Let me just get some food, and I’ll see if I can’t get back into the groove of things, alright?”

Blinking, Adam questioned for a moment if she’d sensed his true intentions.

“Ah… Right.” he said with an uneasy smile. “Yeah, go fuel up and we’ll go at this again after the break. Just… Try to loosen up, okay?”

Nodding, she turned and bit back an exasperated sigh as Homelander sauntered up to them.

“Hey, I’m stealing you for lunch.” he stated, giving her no chance to decline. “What sounds good? Burgers? Thai food maybe? I know there’s that taco truck that parks somewhere around here you seem to like.”

“Oh, is that the one that does the ramen birria?” Adam chimed in.

“Yeah, but honestly, I made my own lunch today.” Morgan cut in before Homelander could get out the snippy remark that sat on the tip of his tongue. “I’m just going to head back to my trailer and have some of that.”

She couldn’t even so much as pray he wouldn’t jump on that before he had invited himself along.

“What’s on the menu then, chef?” he asked, offering her the crook of his elbow. Lips pressing into a thin line, Morgan looked to Adam for a split second– as if he’d be able to save her…

Gently folding her hands in his proffered elbow, she gave Homelander a soft, crooked smile. At least he wasn’t out there causing trouble. That was something she would have to keep telling herself.

“It’s nothing fancy.” she said with a shrug, gently leading him toward her trailer. “I just pulled together a pot of chicken and dumpling soup last night. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

To her surprise, there was a small flicker of excitement. It seemed like her mom’s home-cooking had struck a chord with him when he had visited those few weeks ago. There was another element to it too, that for a moment, Morgan found somewhat endearing. In that same breath, it was almost sad that nobody had really made him a meal beyond hired food-service workers or professional chefs.

“Janelle’s recipe? Well then, I’d say that’s fancy.” he said with a wry grin as he opened the door to her trailer for her.

Something about him saying her mother’s name in such a familiar way almost made her want to cringe. Oddly enough, it had nothing to do with the way he seemed to be trying to worm his way into her inner circle. If anything, it was just strange to think that her mother had encouraged him to be on a first name basis. Even Charlie still called her Mrs. Todd well into their short-lived marriage.

Stepping into the trailer, she felt the small space immediately shrink in Homelander's presence. She moved to the kitchenette, setting her things down, her mind already working on how to navigate the conversation.

"She’s a great cook," she replied, trying to keep things light and doing her best to ignore the knot in her stomach. “Taught me most of what I know.”

He lingered by the door for a moment, eyes tracing over the small details of her small, temporary retreat from the busy movie lot. "Bet she’s proud of you," he remarked, his tone casual, but something in his voice felt heavy.

Morgan shrugged, opening the container of soup and preparing bowls. "She’s proud of all of us," she said, a faint smile crossing her lips as she thought of her family. Her parents, her siblings, even her niece—they were the reason she hadn’t completely lost herself in all of this. "Always has been."

Homelander’s gaze lingered on her, and she could feel the intensity of it without having to look. “You’ve got a good family,” he said, softer than she expected. “I could see it when I was there.”

She hesitated for a moment, feeling the shift in his tone. There was a familiar vulnerability in his words again–a longing that she was coming to recognize. For a brief second, she allowed herself to feel a flicker of sympathy for him, but it was quickly smothered by the reminder of who she was dealing with.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “I’m lucky.”

He stepped closer, watching as she stuck a bowl in the microwave to warm it. His expression had changed, the smugness fading as something more genuine flickered beneath the surface. “Not everyone has that.”

The shift in the atmosphere was palpable, the way he seemed to be peeling back another layer of his defenses. She couldn’t deny that it tugged at her, the sadness that lingered just beneath the surface of his words. But she knew better than to let herself be pulled in too far.

“You’ve got... people,” she offered cautiously, choosing her words carefully. "The Seven. Vought..."

His eyes darkened slightly, the mask slipping back into place. “People, sure.” He paused, his gaze sharp as he set his soup down. “But family? That’s different.”

The quiet between them grew heavier, and Morgan busied herself with warming the second bowl of soup, unsure how to respond. He wasn’t wrong—he had power, fame, influence—but the kind of unconditional love that came from a family like hers? That was something he couldn’t buy or demand from anyone. It was something she wasn’t sure he could even fully understand.

“I guess it is,” she murmured, the heaviness of the conversation settling in the quiet space between them. She could feel Homelander’s eyes on her, sharp, assessing. There was a beat of silence before his expression shifted, the vulnerability hardening into something more familiar—a simmering resentment.

“I tried to see the Seven as family.” he murmured bitterly. “Starlight’s probably still sneaking around with that little weasel Hugh Campbell, though. So I can’t trust her. Maeve was hiding things from me too, and A-Train’s on his way out the door. And don’t even get me started on Stormfront.” His jaw tightened, his expression sour.

“And then there’s you,” he continued after a brief moment, his expression shifting into something more tormented. “Mary fucking Poppins, practically perfect in every way.”

Morgan scoffed, unable to help herself. “Perfect? Believe me, I’m far from it. I’ve made my fair share of mistakes,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Homelander’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued by her sudden deflection. “Really? Because all I see is someone who hasn’t been dragged through the mud like the rest of us. You’re still Vought’s golden girl.”

She could hear the envy simmering just below the surface. He was angry—angry at the others, angry at the situation, angry at her for seeming untouched by all the bullshit they had to put up with. His words stung more than she expected, and something inside her shifted. She wasn’t the darling he made her out to be, and she couldn’t let him sit there, pretending she was infallible.

Hesitating for a split second, she made a pivotal decision. If he wanted to see her flaws, she’d show him. Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer, her voice softer now. “Let me show you something.”

Catching the way his gaze had shifted, something softer and almost searching, she felt her heart give a strong beat. There was something raw in his expression, and it pulled at her in ways she hadn’t expected. Swallowing hard, she gently brought her fingertips to his temples. Homelander watched her carefully, his gaze suspicious, but he didn’t pull away.

She could feel the tension between them, the way he was waiting for something to happen, unsure what she was about to do. Their proximity wasn’t exactly necessary, and neither was her touch, but she needed to feel grounded to that moment. This wasn’t something she liked to talk about. But if he wanted to know the truth—if he wanted to see her flaws—she had to do this.

Closing her eyes, Morgan reached out to his consciousness. She felt the slight resistance as she brushed against his thoughts, but he still didn’t pull away. For a moment, she hesitated, but then the images came rushing forward, sweeping them both into the past.

It was a dreary, gray winter day outside the small high school. A young, scrawny Morgan had spent her entire Christmas break trying to craft her early neural regulator prototype into something more discreet. A pair of thick-rimmed glasses sat on her face, only adding to her gawky, awkward appearance.

There was a group of girls standing opposite her, giggling and unabashedly mocking her. In the center of the group was a young brunette with sharp, striking features and a cruel smirk on her face.

“Really? You think that Christopher would actually go out with you?” she scoffed. “Jesus, you’re such a loser, Morgan.”

“Oh shut up, Brittany.” Morgan snapped, hugging her geometry book to her chest. “Everybody knows he’s only getting cozy with you because he’s got the hots for your brother. Maybe you should stop padding your bra. It’s obvious he prefers flat chests anyway.”

Shocked murmurs rippled through the group of girls and Brittany’s smirk morphed into a look of shock for a brief moment. Then, with a snarl, she lashed out and snatched Morgan’s glasses from her face and threw them to the ground. Immediately, there was a rush of voices that assailed Morgan’s mind, making her double over and clutch her head as she cried out in agony.

Amidst the pain, amidst the shame and embarrassment, there was a flash of rage that surged within her. Teeth gritted, her brows furrowed, she felt her power lash out, white-hot toward Brittany. Then, for just a moment, the young girl was still, her eyes glazed over.

The instant she collapsed to the ground, Morgan scrambled to collect her glasses and shoved them back onto her face. The voices inside quieted, but outside, there were screams of terror.

“Oh my god, what did you do, you freak?!” one girl shrieked.

As a new sort of terror settled into Morgan, the scene shifted.

Perched at the very edge of the sofa in her family’s living room, she watched her father pace furiously back and forth. He hadn’t said a word to her since he got off the phone. Really, he didn’t need to. She knew exactly what had happened the moment the news was dropped on him.

Brittany’s mind was wiped clean. She had the cognitive ability of a newborn baby, and nobody really knew how it happened. Those that had witnessed it had an inkling of what happened, but not even Morgan truly knew what had transpired.

“Dad, I didn’t mean to, I–”

“But you didn’t mean not to.” her father snapped, making her shrink into her shoulders. The moment she recoiled, however, her father’s expression softened. “Morgan, I know these powers are new, and I can’t imagine how scary things must be but dammit… You’ve got to be so careful.”

Sparing Homelander the rest of the lecture, she withdrew from his mind. For a moment, he looked stunned, trying to comprehend exactly what had happened just then, and what he’d seen. His silence pressed down in the compact space of the trailer, thick and almost suffocating.

"You... wiped her mind," he finally said, his voice low and careful, as if he was still piecing it together. “Just like that–like it was nothing.”

Morgan bit the inside of her cheek, nodding slowly. “I didn’t mean to,” she murmured. “But it happened. And after that, I swore I’d never let it happen again.”

With surprising gentleness, Homelander took her wrists, moving her hands away from his temples. His grip was firm but not harsh, and for a moment, Morgan felt the tension between them morph. She could feel the fear flickering at the edges of his thoughts, the way the memory had stirred something deep inside him. He didn’t pull away from it—he seemed to lean into it, almost clinging to the vulnerability she’d shown him.

His eyes flicked downward, his grip still on her wrists, but there was a tenderness to his expression now. “You swore you’d never let it happen again,” he murmured, his voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself. “You’re always in control.”

Swallowing hard, she was unsure how to respond. She wasn’t always in control—far from it. But before she could say anything, Homelander took a step closer, closing what little space remained between them. The air around them felt charged, electric.

“I can’t... I can’t always control it either,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper now. “I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried.”

His gaze lifted to hers, and for a brief moment, she saw something broken in his eyes. He wasn’t talking about power—not just about that. It was deeper, more personal.

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. She knew he wasn’t just looking for sympathy—he was searching for something to hold on to, something real in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded him. And in that moment, he had decided that she was that something.

Before she could react, his hands shifted from her wrists to cup her face. The touch was unexpected, intimate. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin, and for a moment, she felt frozen in place, caught between the weight of his emotions and her own uncertainty.

“Morgan...” His voice was barely a breath now, his eyes searching hers. “You get it. You understand.”

“Homelander, I...” Her voice faltered, and she tried to step back, but his grip tightened, not in an overtly aggressive way, but enough to tell her he didn’t want to let go.

“You’re not like them,” he murmured, his forehead nearly resting against hers now. “You don’t hide. You don’t pretend. You’re... real.”

Morgan’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. She almost felt like she was about to be swallowed up by the intensity of his emotions, the desperation in his touch. This wasn’t the kind of connection she had wanted—this wasn’t what she had meant to offer.

Her breath hitched as his forehead brushed against hers, the space between them shrinking to nothing. He held her face with a tenderness that felt at odds with the intensity burning in his eyes. He was clinging to her, to this moment, as though she were the last solid thing in his world.

Before she could find the words to stop him, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if he was testing the waters, waiting for her to respond. But Morgan couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding all at once. This wasn’t what she wanted.

But Homelander didn’t seem to notice her stillness. He pressed closer, a hand sliding to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss as if he were trying to pull her into his world, into his need.

Morgan’s hands remained frozen at her sides, her body stiff as the weight of the moment bore down on her. She could feel the tremble in his fingers, the way his breath hitched against her skin. He wasn’t just kissing her—he was trying to fill the void left by all the things he’d lost, trying to grasp onto something real, something he thought he could control.

Despite every part of her screaming out at her, telling her what a bad idea it was to let him keep this up, she almost leaned back in. It had been too long since she’d been held in such a way, and maybe… Maybe she needed this too.

Before she got too ahead of herself, her mind snapped into focus, and she pulled back, her breath shaky as she broke the kiss.

“Homelander, wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His eyes opened, and for a moment, confusion flashed across his face. He couldn’t understand why she wasn’t kissing him back. His hands lingered on her, his grip tightening for just a heartbeat before he slowly let go.

“Morgan...?” His voice was a mixture of hurt and disbelief, his gaze searching hers for answers.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “This isn’t... I didn’t mean for things to go this way.”

Homelander’s grip loosened, his hands slowly dropping to his sides as confusion etched its way deeper into his features. His gaze bore into hers, searching, as if trying to make sense of the moment slipping away.

“You don’t... want this,” he murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief. It wasn’t a question—it was a realization, one that seemed to hit him harder than she expected.

Morgan’s breath was still shaky, her mind reeling. “It’s not that simple,” she said, her voice trembling. She forced herself to meet his gaze. “This... This wasn’t what...” The words died in her throat as her chest tightened.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence hung heavy between them, the air saturated with everything unsaid. Morgan could see the growing storm of emotions just beneath the surface. She wanted to reach out, to explain, but she knew better. Anything she said now would only make things worse.

His jaw clenched, and she could see the walls going back up. The vulnerability he’d shown her was being shut away, brick by brick.

He took a small step back, his eyes hardening as he pulled himself together. His voice was cold now, distant. “I thought you understood…”

The shift in his tone stung, but Morgan held her ground, her heart still racing. “I do understand,” she replied softly. “That’s why we need to stop.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression uncertain. Then, with a sharp exhale, he turned on his heel, heading for the door. His movements were quick, almost robotic. He was just trying to escape the moment before it unraveled him completely.

Just before he reached the door, he paused, his back still to her. “You’re wrong, Morgan. You get it more than anyone. This isn’t over.”

And with that, he was gone, the door shutting behind him with a soft click, leaving Morgan standing alone in the quiet of her trailer, the weight of his words pressing down on her.

For a moment, she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her mind was still spinning, trying to process everything that had just happened—the kiss, his desperation, her own hesitation. It was all too much, too fast.

She sank down onto the small sofa, her hands trembling as she buried her face in them. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

But it had. And now, she wasn’t sure what to do next.

Song: You’re Somebody Else by Flora Cash Author’s notes: Now we’re cooking with GAS folks! Honestly, I’ve been so excited to get to this point, and I’m so relieved to finally have it out. Also, can I be so honest? Having to flash back to the late nineties for Morgan’s freshman year of high school was a struggle. I was a bit younger during that era, so I couldn’t remember the slang super great, but I think I pulled it off okay. I really hope you’ve enjoyed reading so far. I’d love to know what you think!

Next chapter.

#homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander fic #homelander x oc

3 notes · View notes

minniefights · 9 months ago

Text

Healed for Pneumonia, currently battling with UTI, but overall doing well!

February 4, 2024

Hello friends! I know that I’ve been updating less frequently lately, but I also know you continue to keep us in your prayers. Thank you all so so much!

As mentioned during my last update, Mom had another Pneumonia infection. After over a month of medication, I’m very happy to report that she got healed from it. During the last leg of her infection, her veins couldn’t take anymore intravenous medications so the doctor shifted to an oral antibiotic, albeit very expensive and also has side effects like bleeding. The doctor said that it was quite a risk because for other patients, they experience incontrollable bleeding so Mom was in strict monitoring here at home. Thank God, the side effects weren’t so adverse! We were able to work around it and praise God, she is doing so well now (respiratory system-wise).

I am happy to report that today (Feb 4) we removed her oxygen support for several hours and she seems very stable! You guys! This is a first in a loooong time! 🥹🥹🥹

She still is dealing with Urinary Tract Infection (UTI), though, which needs to be dealt with before she can resume with her chemo meds. UTI is quite common for patients who are using a urinary catheter for a long time. Currently, the home care the doctor is managing it.

She is making good enough progress with her physical therapy as well. She is now bed-bound (able to stand up to sit on a wheel chair, commode or any chair when assisted) instead of bedridden (confined in the bed). Next goal is to be able to transfer from wheelchair to the car so she can receive her chemo injections when her immune system allows! Hopefully, she will also be able to walk soon, God willing!

I can say that Mom has very significant improvements in her overall health and wellbeing. She has a renewed zest for life and prays to God that He gives her a few more years. 🙏🏽

Thank you for always keeping us in your thoughts and prayers! May God bless you a hundredfold.

2 notes · View notes

what-if-nct · 2 years ago

Note

heyyyy!!!!!!!! are you feeling good? i hope you're doing better now!! like, the best. I hope you feel the best.

today, i skipped school first time in my life. i had two panic attacks in a span of like half an hour, and my sister comforted me over the phone. then i walked out of school and took the train home. for some reason, a teacher put me as sick in the system, so that i wouldnt get in trouble. the rule is, every hour skipped, you have to come back double. but i am never going back to that hell ever again so after the therapy trial at my other school ends, i am officially moving schools. the plan was, i'd go to a therapy school for fourteen weeks, and then back to this school but now, i'm not going to do that.

my ex (who's still my friend, she's the nicest person in the world. she is not like other girls but actually. she literally isnt like any other human. super supportive and accepting, and really weird. i love her very platonically now) actually went to that school wearing a rainbow jeans because this school is known in the public as homophobic. someone there said to a gay 'god is disgusted by you, i'm praying for you' and they forced multiple students out of the closet. a teacher called lgbt demonic cultivation. someone said 'hi [name]' to her and she was like 'and who the fuck are you?' it was very funny tbh. that girl was reformed christian asf. okay i have no idea why i am pouring my thoughts here again. sorry

i ate the most delicious crossaint ever today. very delicious.

i also tried playing a song on my flute, only to discover that 1) i cant play the flute 2) that song is both too high and too low. it's really pretty, tho!! unless i play it. i kinda ruined the song for myself now.

to the someone that said i'm, along with Naked Onew Dream anon, their fav anon- brooo i love you so much <33333

-sneeze

(i'm gonna keep using anon mode bc else i'm not an anon anymore- just for the vibe-)

Hey, I'm feeling a lot better I think I figured out what was wrong and I'm doing a lot better. I wasn't eating enough I know this but I keep forgetting that it ends up making me feel dizzy. A gas station pretzel and mozzarella stick isn't a meal but easy. But I try to eat more.

Yeah, I think skipping school was the best call since you were having back to back panic attacks. I completely support skipping when it comes to your mental wellbeing. Or you just don't wanna be there. I used to skip school all the time and the people at school sucked. Beauty school is a vibe though. And your ex\still friend sounds absolutely incredible and good for her for not really caring and doing as she pleases. That mindset is such a horrible one to have like we're well into the 21st century get with the program. Yay yummy croissant, croissants are the best. I think it's cool you were even able to play a piece of music on the flute, I was unable to read music when I played the violin in elementary so I respect that so much maybe you just gotta practice and you'll be able to play it beautifully.

2 notes · View notes

asherwentinsanelol · 5 months ago

Text

cw vent about religious trauma and being queer

mfw im looking at a kid i used to be kinda friends with in my old christian school finds out that im queer and immediatly says that its not real and that i need to get away from whoever taught me to be like this, little does he know that the school made me attempt suicide 3 times in 2 years, got me in the psych ward for 9 days, caused me to sh so fucking much i now have permanent nerve damage on my left arm, developed anorexia that almost had me hospitalized, made me go to a residential, and has caused me to hate my life way too much for a 13 year old. like what the fuck. you dont know the bullshit i went through to get to the point im at today. im sorry you didnt see me punching myself because i hated my body so much, but you dont fucking know me. you are friends with a boy who threatened my life for being queer and got no fucking punishment. my "family" back at the school hates me. you werent there to see the genuine blisters on my knees from praying for god to make me normal. one of the teachers had a "take back the rainbow" sticker in her classroom. the fact you try to pretend you care about my wellbeing is absurd, you are fully aware that when i left peoplw spread rumors i finally killed myself because everyone knew i wasnt okay. and no body fucking cared, i just got made fun of.

#tw sui #tw sh #tw religion #tw anorexia mention #transgender #lgbtq #lgbtq community #queer

1 note · View note

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Note

hi again!! i was the one who requested angst 10 and 15, and fluff 7 and i forgot to mention maybe with anthony bridgerton?? thank you!!

The Heart Wants What It Wants

Angst 10: “If you walk out of that door, do not come back.” // Angst 15: “This isn’t working out.” // Fluff 7: “Of course I waited for you.”

a/n: this broke my heart to write, I want to cry.

warnings: angst with a happy ending, mild swearing.

blurb requests are closed.

Years Ago:

“This isn't working out,” The Viscount states when he enters the room, gesturing between you both.

You snort. “You could say that again. I told you from the beginning that you shouldn’t marry her.”

“Not me and Lady Simmons. Me and you.”

“What?” You ask, taking the blow as best you can.

“You’ve been nothing but rude to Lady Simmons since I declared my intentions, making comments behind her back and glaring at her when you think she doesn't see.”

“She isn't right for you, Anthony!” You cry, feeling the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. “She’s after your money. She doesn't love you for who you are. She wants your title and nothing more.”

Anthony staggers back a step. “I never expected this from you,” He whispers, his tone displaying his hurt. “I thought you would always be on my side.”

“Not when your intended is going to do more harm than good.”

“What an awful thing to say.”

“I won’t apologise for stating the truth, Anthony.”

“Then I won’t stay to beg for one.”

“If you walk out of that door, do not come back,” You hiss, doing your best to keep your sobs at bay as you glare at Anthony Bridgerton.

“I have no plans to,” He spits, hand on the door handle.

One last look is shared between you both; the hate in the room palpable, but underneath the rage and the upset simmered a love that ran so deep it was practically moulded to your very being.

Anthony hesitates for a single moment; questioning everything he’s ever known, but ultimately common sense is thrown out of the window as Anthony leaves the room, resolutely refusing to look back.

As the door clicks shut behind Anthony, you sink to the floor, heart wrenching sobs falling from your lips. You bring a shaking hand to your chest, pressing it firmly against yourself as if the touch alone would keep you from breaking apart. What was the point? You wanted to scream, you had been smashed to pieces by the very man who had promised to never hurt you.

Futile, pointless, useless.

As the tears continued to flow, your heart broke in your chest. You were sure; you were sure that he felt the same as you, that he loved you as much as you loved him. As you laid on the carpeted floor, you felt the keen sting of unrequited love, hoping never to feel it again.

Now:

Anthony stares up at the white door, his hands shaking slightly as he radios himself to confront the friend he had been missing for years. He hadn't wanted to wait this long; had wanted to run to you the moment his relationship broke down, but the words exchanged that day were so poisonous he was certain you would never forgive him.

So he stayed away. Heard of you from other sources; kept track of you and your wellbeing all through word of mouth.

It was painful, but necessary. His conscious wouldn’t let him sleep if not.

Now, years later, he stands at your door, hoping and praying you would let him in.

A Butler answers the door after he knocks three times, and he is lead to the drawing room decorated in creams and golds. Anthony cannot help the shock that runs through his body when finds you in the room, dressed to the nines and a small smile on your face.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” You state, pouring out two cups of tea and offering Anthony a biscuit.

“You waited for me.” Anthony states plainly, stating the obvious with an emotion you can't decipher in his voice.

“Of course I waited for you,” You sigh, smoothing out your skirts. “How long did it take to see sense?”

Anthony frowns and you hate the sight of it on his face. “A month into the courtship.”

You nod your head; refusing to point out that you had warned him of such events taking place. You remain silent, picking an invisible thread on your skirts.

“It was my mother,” Anthony exclaims, breaking the awkward silence between you both, “She made me see what was happening and urged me to break it off before I bankrupted the whole family.”

“Violet Bridgerton is a wise woman,” You smile, thinking of the Bridgerton matriarch with the familiar ache of grief in your chest whenever you thought of a member of Anthony’s family.

“Yes,” Anthony murmurs, “She is. So are you.”

You raise an eyebrow in question. Anthony continues to speak, “You warned me and I refused to see it. Instead, I let Lady Simmons control my actions and it led to that awful day. I’m sorry.”

“You need not apologise, Anthony. I forgave you long ago.”

“You did?” He asks, shocked at your words.

“I did. I didn't want to hold onto the anger; it was beginning to taint my happy memories of you.”

Something inside of Anthony’s chest cracks at your words; he came here expecting hostility and upset, but instead, he finds you amiable and willing to forgive. It’s then that Anthony realises he’s been an arse about the whole thing.

“I ended things after a month,” He begins. “It took another two months for me to confront my feelings for you, why I reacted the way that I did. I suppose on that day I had hoped that my declaring my intentions would force you to confess what I hoped you felt for me.”

“What did you hope I felt?”

“That you loved me as I loved you.”

“You broke my heart, Anthony. Shattered it to pieces right in front of my very eyes.”

“I know, and somehow you’ve forgiven me.”

“Because I never could stop loving you. Months, years, I tried not to think of you and not to wonder whether you would eventually find your way back to my door. But the heart wants what it wants, and mine has decided that it wants you.”

“It does?”

“It does. It hasn't changed after all these years.”

Anthony closes his eyes at your words, sitting back in his chair as the words settle over his skin, putting to rest any lingering fears he had over today. In his mind, he could see it all play out - his future, the only one he has ever wanted and it’s always going to be with you.

The heart wants what it wants, and his belongs to you.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader

484 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

Seokjin’s chapter ix

kim seokjin x reader warnings; angst, this feels pretty heavy at certain points but gets lighter as you go on, there’s a therapy session included, and just a lot of introspection words; 7,459

author’s note; this kind of ran away with me, wasn’t expecting it to be so long haha but I hope you enjoy!

Read the original chapter ix here

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

After you left Seokjin immediately poured the rest of his whisky down the sink and rinsed his glass. His mind was whirring, head heavy and starting to throb. He swallowed two painkillers down with some water and took a deep breath. He felt like crying. It felt like everything was crumbling around him. All his recent happiness, all his progress, and now possibly it seemed, his relationship with you…

He’d wanted nothing more than to beg you to stay, and he had to an extent, but he knew it wasn’t right. He closed his eyes, not quite believing you’d witnessed all that. You probably thought he was a monster. He hadn’t lost his temper quite like that in a while, not since before the divorce… Embarrassment washed over him, yet he couldn’t stop himself from still being mad at Nana. He knew what you said made sense. He knew he’d been out of line but Nana continuously goaded him. She’d done so throughout their marriage. But he was no saint, he knew how to provoke her too. It’s what they did best.

He moved away from the sink and tried to quash his anger, instead thinking of you and how much he had hurt and upset you. He hadn’t meant for it to get that bad, and he knew deep down that the reason he was so angry was because he’d brought it all on himself. He caused the incident by keeping his relationship with you secret. It hadn’t been on purpose, he wasn’t being vindictive, if anyone would believe him. He just… He had been selfish. He didn’t want to ruin anything because he was finally really happy after god knows how long. It was stupid in hindsight, but what was done was done now.

He reached for Arin’s mug of hot chocolate and fresh waves of guilt and emotion hit him. She didn’t deserve any of this. He needed to be there for her, to push his own troubles away and put on a brave face because none of this was her fault. She needed to know that. Thankfully, the drink hadn’t grown cold yet, and he finished it off with some cream and mini marshmallows. He took one last deep breath and made his way down the hallway. Moping was no good for him. That’s what Chaewon always said.

Arin looked happy to see him, instantly reaching out to him as he took a seat next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. He immediately felt lighter with relief. His daughter had always been his magical cure, and even though a cuddle wouldn’t make everything in his life right again, it certainly helped, and was very much needed. She asked where you were at one point, and unsure what to say, and feeling like shit for lying, he quickly said you needed to be somewhere. Arin probably didn’t buy it, looking dubious as a result of today, bus she didn’t say anything, asking instead if they could watch a movie.

She wasn’t very talkative, and he didn’t blame her. Neither was he. He spent most of Shrek the Third lost in his own thoughts. As his anger slowly drifted away, shame replaced it. He’d been absolutely awful today and even if some of the things he’d said to Nana came from a valid place of concern, most were shouted for no reason other than frustration and hatred on his part. He was ashamed of himself.

After the movie finished, Arin complained she was feeling hungry, so he left her to pick a new movie while he found something to cook up for dinner. He caught sight of the bowl of salad and his heart sunk, remembering the picnic outside. There was no salvaging it now, everything had probably spoiled in the sun, and as he waited for Arin’s dinner to cook, he went outside with a garbage bag, throwing away all the food you’d painstakingly prepared. It felt like he was throwing your relationship in the trash. He didn’t eat with that thought in mind, managing one piece of toast before it turned on him.

At around 6pm his phone started to ring, vibrating in his front pocket and giving him a shock. For a split second he prayed it was you, but he knew he was being foolish. You needed time and if he was being honest with himself, so did he. He needed to concentrate on Arin tonight, as much as he…loved…you, his daughter’s wellbeing was the most important thing. If he could just make sure Arin was okay, then tomorrow he could concentrate on you and him.

Pulling out the device he saw it was Nana. He suddenly felt very, very sick but picked up with a cautious hello. He was almost 100% sure she wanted to speak with Arin, the only way she could seeing as Arin was too young to have a phone of her own, but he was still wary, not wanting a repeat of earlier.

“I want to speak to my daughter.” There was anger to her tone, and he knew her well enough to understand she had her guard up right now. She’d left his place upset and emotional, and that was two of the things she hated people seeing. Especially him. She hated being vulnerable.

Seokjin sighed weakly. “Nana, come on, don’t be like that.” He hesitated, wanting to say sorry for today but the word wouldn’t come. Despite the guilt setting in, he was still pretty angry and frustrated himself.

“I want to speak with Arin,” she repeated. “Will you let me?”

“Of course I will,” he replied. What did she take him for?

He turned to Arin, ready to tell her it was her mom on the phone, but she was already waiting, her ears probably catching Nana’s name a few seconds previous. He smiled gently at her and passed his cell phone over. He tried to concentrate on the television as they spoke, not wanting to eavesdrop. Arin was uncharacteristically quiet as she hummed along to whatever Nana was saying, the occasional okay and I know slipping from her lips as she curled a lock of hair around her finger over and over again, but he understood why. Today had been overwhelming for everyone involved but especially her. She hadn’t seen or heard them argue in a long time, both he and Nana careful to hide them from her as of late. Today had been an awful mistake and the now a stronger wave of guilt was eating him up.

After a few minutes he heard Arin tell her mother she loved her and then she hung up, returning the phone to Seokjin. He stretched over and placed the device on the coffee table, turning back to his daughter apologetically. “I’m sorry about today, Arin.”

She immediately flung herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his sides to hug him tight. He squeezed her right back, running his fingers through her hair gently. “Daddy was really angry, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“Mommy shouted too,” she reminded him. “She was angry that I called Y/N my stepmom.” Hesitantly she looked up at him, her eyes wide with worry. “I didn’t know it was wrong.”

Seokjin sighed gently, trying to see things from Nana’s point of view. “It’s not a wrong word. It’s just a word that hurt your mother’s feelings.” Arin looked a little confused by that explanation, and suddenly Seokjin felt the urge to be as honest as he could with her. She was still young, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Far from it actually. She deserved not to be kept in the dark.

“She… she didn’t know that Y/N is my girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“I was wrong and didn’t tell her.”

Arin stayed silent as she mulled his words over. After a few moments she simply said, “I didn’t know that.”

Seokjin ran a hand down her back, choosing his next words carefully. “Will you tell me what happened today? How mommy found out?”

Arin wriggled away from him to get comfier, sitting back against the sofa again. Seokjin copied, lifting his arm up so she could cuddle up to him. “She asked if I had a new bracelet and I told her Y/N had bought it for me last weekend when I stayed with her.”

Looking down at her wrist now, Seokjin saw no bracelet and he guessed Arin had taken it off in a bid not to hurt her mom even more. She was such a sweet child, always thinking of other people’s feelings.

“Mommy asked who she was and I said she was my stepmom – only because Suzie told me that’s what she is. Suzie has one too and it was fun because then we both had stepmoms.”

Seokjin nodded along in understanding. “It’s okay, it was only a misunderstanding. But to use that word it needs to be discussed first, okay?”

It was Arin’s turn to nod and Seokjin continued carefully. He was well aware everything was up in the air now so it hurt hearing the words that came out of his own month. “Right now Y/N is just Y/N. Before we use that word we have to make sure she likes it, alright? And mommy too.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” he comforted, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He wasn’t even too sure she knew what exactly the word meant.

They both stayed silent for a little while before Arin spoke again. “You and mommy haven’t argued for a long time until today…because I said that word…”

“Hey,” Seokjin exclaimed softly wanting her to look his way. “We didn’t argue because of you. None of this is your fault, okay? It’s my fault and I’m really sorry.”

She gave him a small smile and patted his head. “It’s okay, daddy. I still love you.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. He could always count on his daughter to cheer him up. “Thank you, Arin.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you too. Very much.”

The new week started off badly. He had been foolish to think Mondays were something of a fresh start, foolish to think calling you first thing in the morning was a good idea, and as you told him you needed some space and that you’d call him once the week was over he couldn’t help but think the worst. You’d insisted that you weren’t mad at him, and you had no reason to lie to him, but there was no doubt you were upset… overwhelmed. That morning he’d woken up even more ashamed of the way he’d acted the day before, wincing as he remembered the way he’d lost his temper. He’d sworn that he would never let that side of himself appear ever again, but it was easier said than done. Nana had struck a nerve with the way she had spoken to you and it had been impossible to keep his cool.

He felt deeply ashamed when he thought about how confused you must have felt watching he and his ex-wife hurl abuse at each other. Deeply ashamed when he thought about the way you’d found out things he had never told you… You were hurt he’d never let you know what triggered his divorce, and he understood why completely. It wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed his mind to share such a personal detail with you, it had, of course it had, he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Your experience with infidelity was the complete opposite of his. You had your heart torn to pieces by your ex-fiancé and he had his ego bruised… His marriage with Nana had already been completely over, he just didn’t have the guts to get out. She was correct, he was a coward through and through.

But most of all he was deeply ashamed of his behaviour entirely. He had never meant to compare the both of you. He had never meant to use you to hurt Nana. It was extremely petty, such a low blow, and he didn’t know where it had come from. Rage had washed over him and he’d spat words that he couldn’t take back. It was the worst thing he’d ever done in his entire life, and despite the grievances he had with Nana, he regretted those words deeply. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her like that. It was shameful, and he felt horrendous for hurting both women with his foolish behaviour.

Was there a happy ending after this? If Nana didn’t already hate him, she did now, and you were probably not too far behind. You’d seen him at his most poisonous, heard him use you to prove a point, found out things he’d kept from you, and learned he’d kept you a secret from his ex-wife. How embarrassed you must have felt… How confused… He’d made so many mistakes along the way, it was a wonder they hadn’t caught up with him sooner…

He wouldn’t be able to bear it if you wound up hating him. Not when he loved you so much. He hadn’t even had a chance to confess yet, coming so close to it Saturday night but backing out because he was scared it was too soon. He’d made the decision there and then to tell you once he took you to Paris, getting swept away with the idea and the romance of it all, but now the regret for not professing his love that night was like a lead weight inside his chest. Would it have changed anything? Would yesterday have had a different outcome?

And while he was regretting things, he regretted not letting Nana know about the relationship. Yesterday could have been avoided completely – maybe.

The more he thought, the worse it got and by Tuesday he could feel himself spiralling. He knew the feeling all too well. Soobin had already worked out something was the matter. (His lack of morning shave a dead giveaway.) And that meant he was doing a terrible job at hiding his mood. He couldn’t have Arin sensing the same. She obviously hadn’t forgotten about the weekend and wouldn’t anytime soon, but he couldn’t make it worse for her. He needed to be there for her, as her father, not too busy distracted with his own misery. It was selfish.

But he couldn’t suppress it all. He knew that was unhealthy. So, Tuesday night, once Arin was tucked up in bed sound asleep, he called the one person his former happiness had been neglecting for months now…

“Seokjin,” Chaewon greeted, her warm voice laced with surprise. “Long time no speak.”

He felt guilt immediately wash over him. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that.” It was stupid really, she wasn’t taking it personally, he could guarantee that, but nevertheless it was an emotion he was all too familiar with these days.

Chaewon chuckled. “Don’t apologise for being happy and not needing me.”

His heart twisted.

She sensed his trouble. “Jin?”

He hesitated, looking down at the bottle of whisky sat at his desk. He was in his home office. “Something happened.”

There was silence as his therapist processed his vague words before she pressed him gently, “Oh?”

He took a breath. “Are you free to talk?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m sorry for calling you out of hours.” He apologised. “Don’t feel bad about billing me for this. I’ll even pay double.”

“Seokjin, don’t be silly,” she told him softly. “Let’s name this a friendship call. Now, what’s wrong?” She sensed the last bit of reluctance he was holding onto. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

He sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?”

They spoke for an hour in the end, Chaewon listening attentively as he explained the weekend’s events. He left nothing out, or least what he could remember. He made no attempt to hide his wrongdoings or soften the story. He didn’t want to. He knew he had done wrong. She was sympathetic, but she didn’t mince her words when it came to her disappoint in him.

After the argument he and Nana had gotten into just before Arin had moved in with him, he had worked hard with Chaewon to find a way to curb the anger he often felt when he and his ex-wife communicated. He thought he had been successful, but now he realised all he’d done was find ways to avoid it. He barely spoke to Nana unless he had to, a hello barely exchanged when she called in the evenings to speak to their daughter. A text shared to confirm when Arin would get picked up for the weekend, or one shared to cancel visits… He saw her even less. Jia, Nana’s PA and closest friend was the one who collected their daughter, and he knew it was because his ex-wife wanted to avoid him just as much.

In the long term they had just been making things worse. That’s why last Sunday had been so bad. A build-up of every single frustration felt since the last time they’d seen one another, because no doubt Nana had her own list. It was a recipe for disaster.

It felt good to confide in someone though, someone who knew him very well on a professional and personal level. Chaewon was amazing at putting him in his place so kindly. It was a gift really, and he appreciated it immensely. The older woman saw his negative traits but never judged him. She understood them and tried her best to help him with them. He guessed that was her job, but she did it so well it was hard not to see her as some sort of friend.

That’s why when she asked to see him in person tomorrow he didn’t hesitate to free up his schedule. Truth was, he wanted it too. His mind was still clouded and he needed her insight. Her advice. He wanted a good night sleep too but he didn’t think that would be possible any time soon, no matter how much Chaewon tried to help him. Not when his sheets continued to smell like you…

“It’s about time you both let go of the past.”

Seokjin let Chaewon’s words sink in as he sat opposite her, nervously chewing on a nail. It wasn’t a habit of his, but it was somewhat of a distraction right now. A comfort. They should have let go of the past a long time ago. Maybe then they would have divorced sooner. Maybe then there would be less resentment….

“Arin is the one thing you have in common and you need to work together in order to be the best possible parents you can.”

That cut his heart deep, a twinge similar to what he’d felt all week. Ever since you left. “I know,” he replied quietly. “It’s just…”

He couldn’t continue. Despite how he’d insinuated Nana was a bad mother, he didn’t think that deep down. They both loved their daughter equally, but that love was separate. It had been separate practically since she was born. Arin was missing their combined love, although she knew no different…

“You need to let go of all that bitterness and resentment.” Chaewon continued. Words she had said fairly regularly for the last two years or so. “For your sake, for Arin’s…” But now there was a new addition. “…and Y/N’s.”

Seokjin snorted. “Who said I haven’t scared her away already?”

Chaewon stare turned a little stern. “It was a shock to the system, anyone would need some time to process what happened.” When he stayed silent, she continued. “You have to make her see you’re trying your best to change things. You need to take responsibility for your actions.”

“I will.”

He wanted nothing more than to apologise profusely and answer any questions you had, but you’d requested time first and he was listening. He was just scared that time would work against him. He continued on, ignoring his deepest, darkest worry.

“It’s not fair on her. She should never have witnessed all that, and it just drums in how unfair this has been to Arin her whole life.” Arin had been the witness to many an argument when he and Nana were still married. “I hurt the people closet to me because of my careless actions,” he concluded with a sad smile. Time after time.

“And it’s not too late to change that,” Chaewon reminded. “Put a stop to all this nonsense.”

Seokjin’s smile grew for a millisecond, feeling like a child getting told off.

“Your marriage with Nana didn’t work out, that’s life. But you have a beautiful little girl together. That’s the most important thing, and it goes hand in hand with your own happiness.” She paused and then continued. “It’s very obvious that Y/N brings a great deal of that to the table.”

Yes, you did make him deliriously happy. He felt young again when he was with you. He felt invincible. Loved. He felt loved.

“Concentrate on both of them – Arin and Y/N – and make some changes. Talk to Nana – civilly. Make this work and you can all be happy. I promise you that.”

He had never heard Chaewon like this before, she was practically pleading with him. He let out a little laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

She simply smiled at him. “If you’re determined enough, it is.”

“Mom wants to talk to you.”

Seokjin looked at his phone outstretched in Arin’s hand with slight confusion. For the past four nights, ever since Sunday, Nana had spoken with Arin just before she had to get ready for bed. It was routine now, another avoidance, he exchanged a hello with her and then passed the phone on. Her tone less defensive as the days went on. Tonight had been the same despite his session with Chaewon this lunchtime. But to his surprise, maybe Nana was making the first move.

He took the phone from Arin with a smile, not wanting to make her nervous. Usually he left her alone to speak to her mother, not wanting to pry or insert himself but tonight he was sat next to her on the sofa, replying to emails on his laptop. He hadn’t been listening at all, too engrossed with finalising details for an upcoming project, so of course it had come as a shock to find Arin passing the phone to him.

“Hello?”

“I was just wondering if I could have Arin this weekend.” Nana totally bypassed a greeting of any kind, but she wasn’t demanding in her tone, nor defensive, it was just the way she was. She’d always been straight to the point, no time for pleasantries, and many years ago, when they’d first met, he’d found it highly amusing.

“Um, of course,” he replied, taken back a little. He would be more than happy for her to have Arin. It wasn’t her weekend, but that had never bothered him before. He wanted Arin to see her as much as possible. It was only fair seeing as their daughter now lived with him.

There was a brief silence before Nana spoke again. Had she been expecting him to say no? Surely not. But then again, after last weekend maybe her worries were valid. She found her bearings. “What time does she finish school? I’m taking Friday out, I’ll drive down and collect her.”

Seokjin couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. Nana had not once collected Arin herself. “She finishes at 3.”

Nana hesitated, “Do you think they’d let her finish early?”

“I don’t know… It’s usually only emergencies –”

“Never mind,” she stopped him. “There was just a bunch of things I’d planned, thought we could get a head start, it’s fine.”

He glanced over at Arin who was watching him hopefully. It was obvious what their phone call had entailed. They’d been making plans for the weekend and Arin was visibly excited. He smiled at her.

“I could always phone the school tomorrow,” he suggested to Nana. “See if it’s possible. Maybe she could skip the whole day?”

Nana sounded ecstatic. Something he hadn’t heard in years. “Really? Do you think there’s a chance they’d say yes?”

He shrugged to himself. “It’s just one day, I don’t see why not.”

Nana was busy thinking. “Maybe I could take tomorrow afternoon away from the office too… Pick her up at 3.”

It was his turn to hesitate now, opening his mouth ready to suggest something. He knew he owed his ex-wife an apology, but over the phone just wouldn’t do. He needed to see her. He went for it. “Or I could do it for you? I can drive her to you.”

“You would do that?” She sounded shocked.

“If she’s allowed to miss a day then yes.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t often Nana was left speechless. “Okay,” she agreed after a moment. “That would be great actually.”

His attention went back to Arin then, who was practically vibrating with excitement next to him. His replies hadn’t given away much, but it was enough to tell her she’d be seeing her mother this weekend – and possibly skipping a day of school. He grinned at her and she clung to his arm.

“Can I say bye to mom?”

“In a minute, Arin,” he chuckled, amused by her eagerness. “We’re not done yet.” His next sentence was directed at Nana. “I’ll text you tomorrow morning and let you know what the principal said.”

For the first time in god knows how long there was no malice or sarcasm attached to her gratitude. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

He took it as a positive sign. Things were changing. They would change.

The next day he dropped Arin off at school himself. The plan had been to head to reception and ask if he could talk with Principal Jung in person, but after saying his goodbyes and watching Arin meet up with some friends in the playground he began to get second thoughts. What if he accidentally bumped into you? He was on pins even in the parking lot. He wanted to give you all the space necessary and the last thing you probably wanted to see was him walking towards you in the corridor. At work.

No, instead he drove to his office, phoning the principal as soon as he’d finished up his morning meeting. Hoseok – as he’d been told to call him – was completely understanding. Seokjin didn’t even have to whip out the sob story about Arin missing her mom dearly. Dirty tactics were always the last resort, and he could talk a good game, but thankfully his skill wasn’t needed today. Arin was all set to go this evening.

The drive wasn’t a long one thankfully, just under an hour as Nana lived in the neighbouring city. This wasn’t the first time he’d been to Nana’s penthouse, the place she’d bought after they’d sold their family home, but the last time had been pretty explosive. Not nearly as bad as last weekend, but close. Arin had thankfully been waiting in the car for him that time, as he and her mother argued over where she should live permanently.

Seokjin stood beside Arin in the elevator, feeling nervous for the conversation he wanted to have. He was never above apologising when he was in the wrong, but with his ex-wife saying sorry had never come easily. It was childish and he knew he needed to change, so today was the perfect test. If he wanted a clean slate he had to be as honest as possible.

“Mommyyy,” Arin squealed as she opened the door to greet them, barrelling into her practically.

Seokjin stood back as they hugged, a soft smile on his face.

“Arin, I missed you,” Nana informed her, breaking away to take her bag. As she did so, she glanced at Seokjin, then back at their daughter. “Listen, darling, go to your room for a little while so I can speak to daddy.”

Seokjin felt a little relieved. At least they were on the same page – potentially.

Arin though, was unsure, looking between her parents as she spoke. “I don’t want to. What if you argue again?”

He felt his heart break at her words. “We won’t, sweetie,” he reassured, bending down to look her in the eyes. “I promise.”

She still looked dubious, but then Nana took over, her voice light and breezy. “We won’t be long, okay? Think about what pizza you want to order for dinner.”

Arin’s eyes lit up at that request and Seokjin couldn’t help but chuckle. That pizza obsession of hers was getting dangerous. “Okay,” she agreed easily, waving to him before she skipped off to the furthest part of the apartment.

Seokjin watched her leave before rising up again, tugging down the ends of his jacket. Nana was looking at him, an unreadable expression on her face, but he knew it wasn’t anger she was feeling, so that was a plus. He thought back to Sunday, how mad they had both been, how upset Nana had looked as she’d rushed off. The guilt came back.

He exhaled. He might as well just bite the bullet. “I’m sorry for calling you a terrible mother. I didn’t mean it.”

Nana stayed silent but her arms wrapped around herself. It was such a vulnerable action, it took him by surprise.

He continued. “I was just frustrated. I let things build up and exploded.”

She stared him straight in the eyes, shoulders sagging a little but her voice was strong. “You know I love our daughter half to death.”

“I do,” he agreed. “I don’t doubt that.”

She look relieved. It made him feel oddly sad. He had never wanted to make her doubt herself as a mother. He was a piece of shit.

Still, she needed to understand some things. His point of view and where he was coming from. His frustrations weren’t all for nothing. They were valid. “But you have to understand I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces when you end up cancelling on her. It takes its toll.”

Nana’s gaze flickered to the floor as she whispered. “I’m trying to be better.” Then she looked up again, her voice stronger. “I’m trying to free my weekends up. I’m trying not to do as much. I thought maybe I could even have her for an evening every weekday? I could pick her up from school, take her out for dinner. I know it’s a distance but maybe I could get every Wednesday afternoon away from work... Hopefully.”

Seokjin was impressed. Nana lived and breathed work so to hear she was thinking about possibly taking an afternoon away every week was… It made him very happy. “She’d love that,” he grinned genuinely. “She misses you a lot.”

Nana couldn’t help but smile too. “I miss her always.” With a slight chuckle she continued, “This apartment is so quiet without her.”

Seokjin looked down at his feet and grimaced slightly. He knew that feeling all too well. Living without Arin had been close to torture after the divorce. Everything felt so silent, the house gigantic and lonely. He hated the thought of Nana feeling the same way. “You can see her any time, Nana,” he murmured. “I’ll never try to stop you.”

Despite everything, their grievances toward one another, they had and would always co-parent well. Arin was their number one priority and she needed both parents in her life.

“I know that,” Nana nodded, “and I’d never try to take her from you.”

It didn’t bear to think about, but he had to admit, sometimes it was easy for irrational thoughts to creep in when someone was left feeling insecure.

“She loves living with you. She’s really settled at her new school, she never stops talking about her friends.” Nana continued, making small talk of sorts. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this. “She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Seokjin nodded in agreement. She loved her new school, her new friends – her new life, you could say. That was easy to see.

Nana cleared her throat, dropping her arms to her sides. “I apologise too. I was out of line turning up at your door like that. I was just so mad... so hurt.” She took a few seconds. “I wish you’d just told me.”

“I should have.” She was absolutely right. “I see that now and I regret it. It was wrong of me to keep my new relationship from you. I wasn’t doing it to be vindictive. I just...” he stopped himself. Even though they weren’t excuses, they felt like they were. His reasons didn’t matter.

“You should have been the first to know because of Arin. If I was in your shoes, if it was the other way around, I would have been angry too.” He stopped and sighed at his stupidity. “I never meant to hurt you, neither did Y/N. She actually had no clue you didn’t know until that day.”

Nana’s eyes widened with shock, before she looked regretful. “Yeah, that one makes me feel even guiltier. I shouldn’t have spoken to her the way I did. It was a shock to hear Arin speaking about a stranger like that. A stranger I had no clue existed.”

Seokjin appreciated her apology, but he needed to make sure she understood something. “Yeah, about that, Arin really has never called Y/N her stepmom. We’ve only been together for a few months. I spoke to her about it and Arin understands that’s not the case. It was just kids being kids.”

Nana nodded. “I shouldn’t have flown off the handle, and I should have listened to your explanation the first time around.”

He held her gaze. “I’m not trying to replace you, Nana.”

If that’s what she was worried about, it wasn’t the case. He had never meant to compare the two women and he regretted it deeply.

Nana’s lips quirked up at the side, her voice relaxed and at ease. “But eventually Arin will call her that.”

His eyebrows shot up, understanding what she was getting at. “I don’t know,” he shook his head. His relationship with you was up in the air right now. He’d made one too many mistakes.

Nana brushed him off with sway of her hand. “I guess I’ll learn to deal with it when the time comes.”

He admitted defeat. “And I’ll have to do the same.”

It was inevitable really. One day Arin would probably have two blended families and while he really wanted his to be with you, he didn’t want to get his hopes up right now.

Nana snorted. “Fat chance of that happening. I don’t have time to fall in love again.”

He stayed silent, unsure what to say. He’d thought the same once upon a time. Until you walked straight into his life. (Or, more fittingly, until he’d reversed straight into yours.) Everyone deserved love in their life and he hoped that one day his ex-wife would find it again.

She was looking over at him sadly now, eyes softening, and it was almost jarring to see her show this much emotion in front of him. “I did love you, you know,” she murmured before laughing quietly at herself. “I felt like I never told you enough, but in the beginning it was good, right?”

“It was.” Seokjin hated getting nostalgic, in fact, he actively avoided it, but in this moment he let himself go. Ten years ago, he and Nana had fallen hard for one another. It was fast and exhilarating but – “We just…”

“Rushed into things that weren’t meant to be?” She finished for him.

He’d been so eager to marry before he was thirty, to follow in his parents’ footsteps. He wanted, no, needed, to become CEO. He needed to build something he could be proud of, and having a family fit into that logic. He’d had tunnel vision, but it wasn’t all bad.

“I can’t regret it though,” he told Nana softly, “because we made Arin.”

“At least we agree on one thing,” she chuckled.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

It was strange speaking like this with one another. He couldn’t even think of the last time something similar had happened. They were always too busy at one another’s throats, not listening to what the other had to say. Now all that fight had gone. They were both exhausted from years of bitterness. Years of fighting.

He didn’t want to fight anymore.

Nana seemed to think the same.

“I’m ashamed she had to hear us fight like that,” she said. “I apologised on the phone but…”

“She’s okay.” He reassured. “I think she still thinks it’s her fault a little though. I’ve tried telling her it wasn’t repeatedly.”

“I’ll talk to her over dinner.”

“Good idea.”

There was a pregnant pause before Nana chuckled. “This is the first time we’ve spoken so civilly in a long time.” She hesitated, wanting to say something else. He waited patiently, curious. “Maybe we should think about talking it out with a professional?”

He raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t a bad idea actually, but then… thing seemed to be working out well on their own right now. “Maybe we should see how things go first? Now that we know how one another feels.” They weren’t out of the dark yet, but it was looking hopeful. “But if you think it will help then I won’t refuse,” he added, wanting to show how seriously he was taking this.

She smiled slightly. “Okay, we’ll see how things go.”

It seemed like the conversation had run its course then, and Seokjin shuffled, about to suggest he head out now, but Nana spoke again. “Are you okay?” She asked. “No offence, but you look like shit.”

He laughed, actually laughed, at her words. He could always count on her to be honest with him. “I haven’t been sleeping very well,” he admitted, “but talking with you definitely helped.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “I hope I haven’t ruined things with you and Y/N. I can talk with her if you want?”

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his hand.

She looked down, feeling foolish. “I guess I did enough damage.”

He chuckled. “No, pretty sure I did that all on my own.”

Looking up, her mouth opened, as if she was about to ask him what he meant but stopped herself at the last second. She wasn’t there yet, and neither was he.

He took a step back. “I should go.”

Nana went to follow him to the door. “I’ll have her back by Sunday. Do you want to say goodbye?” She saw his nod and called for their daughter, her voice echoing off the walls. “Arin? Arin, darling, come here and say bye to your dad.”

A few seconds later he heard Arin’s footsteps getting closer, she hovered by the entryway, looking worried for a second, as if she was expecting the worst but then she saw her parents smiling faces and relaxed instantly.

“I’ll see you Sunday, okay?” Seokjin told her as she made her way towards him. He reached to pick her up, something she scolded him over sometimes because it was “embarrassing” now. She was getting older, he kept forgetting, because to him she would always be his little girl. This time however, she let him do so, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek.

“Okay, bye daddy. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he grinned, kissing her back before he put her down.

Nana watched on with a grin of her own.

Being home alone was odd. Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on his own. In the week Misook was here to help out with Arin and the housework, then every other weekend she often dropped in when he needed her. When the house wasn’t occupied by his daughter or Misook, you were here with him, so it had been quite a while since it was just him. It reminded him of the past, when he’d lived here all alone. He never wanted to go back to that.

He was happy to see Friday roll around. It felt like he’d been waiting all his life. Just one more day and he’d get to speak to you. The lack of communication was killing him. Ever since you’d began dating you’d spoken every day. It felt strange to be without that, like he was missing a part of himself. He’d been able to distract himself with work throughout the week, but no amount of distractions could really stop him from thinking about you. Stop him from missing you. Because he did. Terribly.

The photo on his desk didn’t help matters either – the two of you smiling together on the fishing trip he’d organised over the summer – but like hell was he hiding it away in a drawer.

It was probably best that Arin was with Nana this weekend. It gave you both some time to talk and sort things out – hopefully. He was praying so hard that everything would be okay, but he was getting ready to fight for you. Just in case. Of course he would listen to what you had to say, and respect it too, but if it happened to be bad news he would try his best to make you see how sorry he was and how hard he was trying to change. He couldn’t lose you. Not when he loved you so much.

You made him want to be a better man.

He got home pretty late from the office, staying just to avoid an empty house and after having a quick shower and ordering takeout, he decided on an early night. This week had been mentally and emotionally draining so it was probably for the best. Plus the sooner he slept the sooner tomorrow would come.

He’d just stepped out of the bathroom when he heard his phone ring in his sweatpants pocket. He pulled the device out automatically, expecting it to be Namjoon, because who else would be calling at this time? But to his surprise and utter amazement, he saw your name flashing across his screen.

His heart began to pound embarrassingly loud and he rushed to answer, sounding a little breathless as he murmured your name.

“Hey, you,” your replied, and he swore he could hear the smile in your voice. His shoulders instantly released the tension he hadn’t realised they’d been holding.

“I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight.” He heard himself say, cursing himself because it sounded so dumb. He was over the moon you’d decided to call. Of course he was.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not,” he rushed. “Well,” he laughed, “I was just about to head to bed.”

You laughed along softly, the sound making his heart sing. “I was going to wait until tomorrow but Soojung is with Taehyung tonight and being alone means I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that slipped past his lips. It was so good to hear you say that. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week. Are you ready to talk? I’m willing to answer any questions you have.” He meant every word.

“I’m ready,” you replied. “Should I come over? I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

“I can come to you?” He suggested instead, not wanting you to go out of your way for him. “Arin’s with Nana until Sunday.”

“Oh. Okay. Now?”

“It’s not too late?”

“No, it’s fine.” You sounded a little eager and that just made even more relieved. He’d been expecting the worst all along. “I really want to see you.”

He smiled, happiness overwhelming him. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Really soon.” As he spoke he made his way into the closet, opening up his drawers to find a clean t-shirt.

“Don’t speed,” you told him jokingly.

“Of course I won’t,” he laughed. “I’m going to hang up now but I won’t be long.”

“Okay, see you soon, Seokjin.”

He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he said his final goodbye, his heart racing with excitement as he tore off his old shirt to put the new one on. It was a little creased, but it would do. He didn’t have time to find anything else.

He needed to see you.

He needed to be with you.

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #mls:drabbles #floralseokjin:writings

161 notes · View notes

im-going-to-cryo-bust · 4 years ago

Note

heyy,may i request with diluc and kaeya, s/o who gets hurt but like doesn't tell them till someone slips it up.Thank you!!

Diluc and Kaeya on: fem!s/o getting hurt

WARNING: angst/hurt with comfort

You end up in the hospital after a series of rookie mistakes. It's not your first time, so you reassure your teammates and plead them to keep quiet about it. It only takes a few weeks or only one day, considering that elemental healing will speed up the process. All you have to do is lie down and pray that no one spills the beans until things are better or confirmed...

Kaeya is in the center of Mondstadt so it’s impossible to avoid him, he did suspect that your mission is going on longer than usual

Ah, but what was the point of secrecy? Kaeya is too good at sweet talking that he found out in an hour - majority of that hour spent hunting down your party members.

He'll most likely "accidentally" stumble into your party members and bait them to a willing, subtle interrogation

He'll tease out little hints and piece everything together without even needing a direct answer

If you had a minor injury

He would take some time on the way to buy you a snack or gift to make you feel better. He spends a little longer more than he would like, cursing a bit and choosing one of the three presents he thought you might like. You hear rhythmic knocks on your door and the door swings open, Kaeya dramatically walking in with a smug smirk on his face. "How are you doing?"

You roll your eyes as Kaeya saunters in, sitting next to you and holding a gift in his hands. He laughs, but he looks nervous. His leg shakes erratically despite him pushing down on it, knuckles white. Then you remember the way his eyes flickering around the room, averted by his vexing smirk. Before you can talk about it, he interrupts with a distraction, the gift. He observes you with a smile as you brighten up at the sight of it, feeling a lot more better at the sight of you.

Kaeya continues to distract you with teases that get you all riled up (adorable and hilarious in his opinion) and discussing the nervous nature of your encountered party member. You take the opportunity to retort about his nervousness. He looks stunned for a second, but he chuckles, “I knew I couldn’t get anything past you..” He hesitates. “I was worried when your friends looked so anxious, I was preparing myself for...” ‘The worst.’ Kaeya leaves it as it is, bitter smile in the pensive atmosphere. You clutch his hand tighter and Kaeya lightens up, reciprocating and knitting your hands together.

“When they said it was minor and you would recover soon, it was like a boulder was lifted off my chest.” He pats your head, his touch lingering longer and his gaze fond. “I’m glad, glad that you’re okay.”

If you had a major injury

"What?" His charming smile disappears, words slipping through a frown of gritted teeth, daring (even hopeful) for the person to say it's a joke. The answer doesn't matter, he can tell from their expression. He only allows a flash of pure terror to be seen by them, pushing through the crowds of people to reach the hospital.

When he bursts into the room to see you, his eyes fixated on yours. He freezes at the door, processing everything now while you are there, alive, in front of him. He refuses the voice in his head feeding into his fears, making him scared to come closer for a confirmation. He might have to face it: a loss and an emptiness.

But then you weakly smile and reach out for him; and he can finally breathe again. He is so urgent that he stumbles to get there, to give you comfort. Finally, when he sits next to you, you can see closer the joy but weariness in his expression. He has a smile unlike Kaeya, ridden with anxieties and unable to fool even a domestic dog. He pecks your hand and sandwiches it between his, familiar warmth wrapping around your hand. You start to fall asleep, exhausted by the events of today, and Kaeya overlooks worryingly. These injuries happen all the time, it's part of the job, but it doesn't make it any better to see - especially when it involves you. He swears and curses under his breath, not wanting to wake you up. 'It's best for her to get some rest', he tries to assure himself from his concerns, but he can't stop his stupid leg from shaking. He hangs his head, still clutching your hand, and he allows a few tears to fall despite himself. He closes his eyes and focuses on the touch of you, calming down and slowing down his breaths knowing that you are here, alive and well, next to him.

When you wake up, Kaeya's head lies uncomfortably asleep with a disturbed expression on his face. Your hand is intertwined with his while you both were sleeping, seeking that familiar heat that made you feel ever better. He mumbles in his sleep, his grip tightening on your hand as often as his eyebrows furrow. Your touch soothes him, the tension and wrinkles on his face vanishes when you lovingly stroke his hair or gently caress his cheek. As long as he can feel your warmth, he can sleep much better.

He would either find it through his acquaintance in Mondstadt’s hospital or be told at the winery.

It’s not pleasant either way, especially since there would be a period of unsettling silence after the metaphorical beans have been spilt

His interrogating is less subtle than Kaeya, very straight forward and to the point so he can get to where you are faster with preparation

Diluc uses the classic, intimidation method that is amplified by his resolve to see you and assure himself that you are safe

If you had a minor injury

You hear soft knocks on your door and a tentative voice asking from your lover, giving you a forewarning before he comes in. He doesn’t waste a second to be by your side, assessing your injury in closer detail then lightly scolding you out of the worry. It might take 2-6 minutes just for him to calm down and get it all out. Diluc is sensitive to your injuries, fearing the worst when anything happens, and he finds it childish; always trying to hide it with his lectures. This grumpy façade falls quickly, like always, after reassurance from you and inspecting your wellbeing with his own eyes.

Diluc sighs, "...but it's a minor injury, and you’re Y/n L/n.” He smiles assuredly and it encourages you because of how confident he is of you.

He’ll cling to you, self-aware of his behaviour and evidently embarrassed about it, but does it nonetheless with pink cheeks. You pretend not to see when he hesitantly leans on you or when his hand lingers on yours while you both chat about everything else. Soon you’ll find him pecking your cheek or kissing you more than usual

“It’s to make you feel better.” He mumbles going in for another after you tease him about it. Kisses are one of the things he uses to be expressive for his love for you, so he becomes generous when you get hurt like this and gets more affectionate to hopefully “love” the pain away.

If you had a major injury

Diluc is shell shocked; colour draining from his face in favour of raw fear. He is reminded of the dreadful past and it toys with his heart, stringing it along to his vulnerability of you. He fails to fully grasp his thoughts but his legs move on their own to see you, to feel you and to know for sure that you're okay. He pushes and shoves through people in his way, silent to anyone that approaches. He finds it hard to breathe, maybe it's how he ran to the hospital or the tight cinching in his chest.

When he enters your room, he'll take in your form and process the injuries you've sustained. He looks more horrified and panicked the longer he looks. He beats himself over it and swallowing the growing shame in his throat. ‘How could I have let this happen?’ Past buried memories come alive and it gets harder for him to stay grounded. These things don’t go away easily, he knows from experience, and he’s afraid of the unknown future and of what will happen next. What if you don’t recover and... Bad thoughts choke him up and he wallows deeper into it.

But then you smile, like nothing is wrong; even though that small action took so much energy and you end up wincing in pain. Diluc looks heartbroken.

No moment is spared when he is next to you, he'll even fall on his knees and just, cry. It's like all this tension in his chest is released at once. It's scary, worrying even, and you start to wonder who's supposed to worry over who. You stroke his hair and mumble comforting words, his sobbing dissolves into embarrassed sniffles. He remarks on it, but you reassure him that it's endearing.

You both might fall asleep like that; your hand on his nest of hair and his head on the hospital bed. There are some times you wake up and see Diluc awake in cold sweats, tightly gripping on the covers of your bed, pale as a ghost in the night. He tells you to go back to sleep and rest, but you wait until he does. He guilty stares at you as you stay up, half-awake at 2am, about how it’s fine and how it’s going to be okay. He shakes his head and looks pitifully at you, flinching at your injuries - more effected than you are. It makes you upset and a little frustrated, so you sigh and reach out to him. He leans close and you kiss him on the forehead, expressing a passionate-believe me glare. Then he remembers that he trusts you, you are the Y/n he loves. He smiles gratefully, and when you wake up in the morning he is still snoring asleep.

🌼💫 Hello, sorry for the inactivity, it’s just that I got quite stuck. But now it’s over and this is the result :) This is a very very long post, so I had to put a “keep reading” or else people uninterested would have to keep scrolling for 5 minutes. A reminder is that this is what I hc Diluc and Kaeya to act, it’s not definite and it’s fine if you disagree because this is imaginary and based on subjective perceptions. If you do enjoy these hcs, do check out my blog for more and tell me if you do!

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact headcanons #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #diluc x reader #Diluc headcanons #kaeya x reader #kaeya headcanons #kaeya #diluc #s/o getting hurt #genshin impact hc

710 notes · View notes

ayatosmlktea · 4 years ago

Text

Late Night Devil

A/N: This is my fic for the Citrus Dome Server collab! I’ve spent many hours crying over it, I hope you enjoy it! Make sure you check out the other pieces of the collab too because they’re written by amazing writers!! @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten

Read the other fics for the collab here!

Word count: 5.7k

Thank you @suckersuki for saving my ass and making this beautiful banner 💕

Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods. But you never expected one to answer…

Warm summer breeze tickled at your face, your hair flowing freely in front of your face making your nose itch. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you tune out the conversation your parents are having in favour of focusing your attention on the pavement ahead of you. Your eyes stinging and heavy from the lack of sleep you’ve been getting since the breakup. A bitter aftertaste stings the back of your throat as the events replay in your mind. The breakup had been sudden, although you couldn’t say you were completely caught off guard. Regardless of how underwhelming it had been, the way you’d been humiliated so carelessly had hurt your pride.

As you approached closer to the temple, a strange feeling of anxiety crawled into your stomach and pushed down heavily on your chest. It was unlike you to feel such unease coming to the temple of the gods, normally the divine power helped bring a sense of peace into your life.

Today was another story it seemed, maybe it was the fact that your emotions were all over the place and the pain and hate you felt slowly bubbling up over being cheated on were muddling with the rest of your feelings. Warm orange rays of sunlight slowly begin to peek over the tops of the mountains, shrouding the forest in a comforting glow. The sky is light with pinks and oranges, the dark blue night sky slowly fading away as a light cerulean takes over. It was barely six in the morning, but your family had always been adamant about being early to bring your offerings for the gods.

Nature seemed to come alive around you, birds chirping, flowers blooming with lush petals and vibrant colours. It was the summer solstice, a period of time where the gods’ presence was closer to the human world than any other time of the year.

However, despite it being such a juvinating day you were feeling anything but jovial. The basket resting on your arm was nearly filled to the brim with seasonal fruits that you had picked earlier that morning. The better quality the offerings and the more abundant they were signified a better season and prosperity blessed upon your family from the gods.

“Y/n what’s the matter?” your mother asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Nothing, just tired” you mumble hoping that she’ll stop questioning you before it starts.

“Well make sure you don’t walk into the temple like that, we can’t afford to attract any negativity this season” she scolds, something you’ve heard since becoming your family’s link between your world and the God’s.

When it had happened you were instantly filled with dread, the wellbeing of your entire family rested on your shoulders. Four times a year you needed to make sure that your emotions were in check, a single negative thought even for a fleeting second would have an impact on your family’s future until the next solstice. The gods were very picky when it came to their offerings, being the so-called spokesperson for your family meant that for the entire time you were in the temple you couldn’t think of anything else.

One minor distraction was enough to send a year’s worth of bad luck onto your family. You had never once messed up in the ten years that you’d been doing this, but it never stopped your parents from reminding you incessantly that you needed to be in the right state of mind. It was annoying, but you’d gotten used to it over the years.

Today however, you had little patience with your mother. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes you give her a tight smile and nod, returning your gaze ahead of you.

The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky, light pinks and oranges gradually fading into a light blue. The ruby red pillars of the temple gradually came into view, peeking through thick tangled branches.

The closer you got to the temple, the heavier the lump of dread feels in your stomach. It’s so close to swallowing you whole that you can feel the bile creeping up your throat. Sticky black fingers made of tar wrap themselves around your throat. The second you step foot onto temple grounds you can feel the atmosphere change.

A harsh warm breeze whips against your hair, running along your exposed arms and face. Almost like a warning, you need to get yourself together. Shoving down every negative feeling that’s made itself home in your body you take a few deep breaths and focus on calming your emotions.

From the corner of your eye you can see your parents give you a wary side eye but you flash them a reassuring smile. You can do this. You’ve done it a thousand times before, one stupid break up will not be the reason you bring bad fortune upon your family. You’d never hear the end of it.

As you walk up the narrow winding steps to the shrine you can feel the spiritual energy radiating from the soles of your feet up to the top of your head. The concerned gazes of your parents burn holes into the back of your head. Not only were you more in tune with the realm of the gods during the solstice, but the energy of the earth as a whole intensified as well.

Deep breaths in and out. Focus on the wicker handle of the basket digging uncomfortably into your arm. Anything to distract your mind from thinking about finding Bakugou kissing Cami-Nope.

Your grip around the basket handle tightens, small pieces of it begin to poke at your skin giving you something to focus your attention on.

When you finally reach the top of the stairs, your rage has finally simmered down enough to allow you to ease your death grip on the basket.

A heavy hand on your shoulder draws your attention up to your father’s solemn eyes. You were usually good at hiding your emotions, the fact that everything you were feeling now was on full display was irritating you to no end.

“I’m fine!” You reassure them once more but you can tell they don’t believe you. You can’t blame them, you haven’t told them anything about your relationship ending and you don’t intend to either. You knew you were acting differently these last few weeks but you didn’t need anyone else knowing about the humiliating way things had ended between you and Bakugou.

Your parents accompany you into the temple but being the spiritual link for your family, only you are allowed to enter the inner rooms which host the shrines for each god. In the beginning it had been exciting to you, but now years later it was beginning to feel like a chore. It didn’t matter where you were, four times a year you needed to come home and pray for good health and wealth and prosperity. You pass by Izuku on your way into the room, his presence was usually calming but the sight of him now only served to remind you of Bakugou. Forcing a polite smile on your lips you give him a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing on your way towards the altars.

The prayers had gone well, at least you had assumed they had. You had no problems with the gods, other than Enji who usually gave you a hard time regardless of how good of a mood you were in so you didn’t take it personally. Grabbing the empty basket you exit the room and make your way outside. Finally able to let your emotions pour out once more, you find yourself becoming fixated on the onslaught of hatred, revenge, and hurt that were lying dormant under your skin. You wanted revenge, you wanted to humiliate him the way he’d hurt you.

You didn’t understand why he’d done it, you had been under the false presumption that your relationship was fine. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou cheating on you in your own apartment, with the girl he’d told you so many times NOT to worry about you might have felt less bitter. But there was nothing that could quench your desire for revenge other than making him regret what he’d done to you in a way that would stick with him forever.

Blinking out of your daydream you realize that you’ve wandered into a part of the temple that you’ve never been to before. It’s darker and the energy feels heavier compared to the other sections. Your feet seem to move of their own will as you approach a door that looks as though it hasn’t been opened in ages. You expect to find it locked, but much to your surprise the handle twists open with no resistance.

The room is even darker than the hallway, a small window being the only source of light casting a gloomy look throughout it. Along the back wall of the room is what you think is another altar, except as you approach it it’s covered in dust. It’s apparent to you that no one has been in this room for a long time. Cautiously you wipe away the dust covering the plaque on the front of the altar.

“God of vengeance, Dabi” The second the name leaves you lips the door slams shut making you jump in shock. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and every nerve is screaming at you to run.

“Lost, dollface?” A voice you’ve never heard before but feels so strangely familiar at the same time makes you nearly jump out of your skin and whip around to face them. You had been facing the door ready to walk out, no one had been in here before you so where did the man standing in front of you come from.

You’re suddenly so dumbstruck that you can’t even formulate a response, your eyes are too busy taking in his unusual appearance. Spiky black hair, the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen with patches of his skin on most of his face and neck that are stapled together. Your eyes travel down farther and notice that not only is his face badly burnt but a significant portion of his body is.

The energy you’re getting from his presence is overwhelmingly not human, but it’s not demonic either. At least, you’re fairly sure it isn’t. Meaning that the person standing before you was a god.

“Don’t look so shocked, you did wander in here didn’t you? What were you expecting to find?”

“Who are you?” The question feels stupid of you to ask.

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Your mind is racing with a hundred different things to say, but none of them make it past your lips. Something about him is different from the rest of the gods you’ve met before. There’s what feels like an underlying evil in him despite being a god.

“What’s on your mind doll? It’s obviously important enough to be thinking about while you’re in the presence of a God” His coy smile and low voice laced with honey and temptation make you want to answer him even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Why do you care?” Raising an eyebrow questioningly, a tiny voice at the back of your mind begins to scold you for speaking to a god so casually. Not only could he clearly incinerate you in a flash but he could also influence the fate of your family’s fortune. But you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. For the last decade of your life you’ve spent it dedicated to bringing your parents good fortune only to end up with your own misfortune. You knew you were pushing it, you knew that one slip up and you’d never hear the end of it. But the rage bubbling it’s way slowly up your body almost feels like it’s growing stronger in his presence.

“I always care about pretty little things who wander up to MY altar with such negative energy.”

“Your altar? Funny how I’ve never heard of you before. Can’t be that important if your altar is blocked off from the rest of the temple. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving” Turning on your heel you start walking back to the door hoping that you’ll be able to leave before digging yourself a deeper grave.

“Now now, is that any way to speak to a god?” Within seconds the atmosphere changes, andBlue flames sprout up around you blocking you from leaving the room. They’re hotter than any fire you’ve ever been near before, you don’t even need to be standing directly in front of them to feel how much heat they radiate. Dabi’s eyes are glowing with such an intense gaze of lust in your eyes that it works its way under your skin.

It doesn’t take you long to understand why his shrine had been locked off from the rest of the altars. Dabi might have been a god but there was nothing heavenly about him. Gradually the smell of smoke began to fill your lungs in an unpleasant way despite nothing in the room burning.

“Wanna try that again? Maybe a little nicer this time huh?” Dabi’s body was right behind yours, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. Hot breath hitting against you making you shiver involuntarily.

“Don’t you have better things to worry about?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in front of the god of vengeance. The one god who can help you work out this little problem you’ve got going on”

“Why do you want to help me so bad?”

“I like to think of myself as a generous god” He jokes but you can already tell that Dabi is anything but generous. His expression changes when you don’t lighten up at his attempt to change the mood of the conversation.

“What can I say, I love a good revenge story. It doesn’t hurt if they’re not bad to look at either”

Sighing, you begin to mull over his proposal in your mind. You can’t deny that it would be just a little satisfying to have a god on your side. It was petty, the dumbest kind of revenge that anyone could plot for but the images of Bakugou making out with someone who wasn’t you in your own bed no less were branded permanently in your mind. Maybe summoning Dabi was a blessing in disguise, besides, he was a god after all. It wasn’t like he was going to ask you for your soul.

“Fine, what do you want in exchange?”You figured the most he probably wanted was a bigger offering next season.

“We’ll discuss that when it comes up”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You weren’t even sure why Dabi had decided to waste his time in the human world. In his own words he was bored of being in his own realm and figured that sticking around your “depressed ass” would give him some form of entertainment.

Thankfully you didn’t live with your parents anymore, you weren’t sure how you were going to explain having a random man they’d never seen before stuck to your side twenty-four hours a day. In all honesty, you didn’t know why he’d been so interested in helping you get revenge on Bakugou but there wasn’t any need for you to question it. He was the god of vengeance after all.

Even if this did seem like a small and petty reason to help you out.

The first week you had been so caught in helping Dabi adjust to human life that you’d almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. You would have thought that for a god he’d have been at least somewhat competent at learning how to work something as simple as the shower.

You definitely hadn’t expected him to be standing in the bathtub naked, with the cockiest smirk on his face while you yelped and covered your eyes, willing with every fiber in your body for your heart to stop racing.

“Could you at least cover yourself before calling me in here?” You complain, still shielding your eyes as you walk over to turn on the shower for him.

“Can’t you just use your godly powers or whatever to just do it for you?” Mumbling mostly to yourself, you adjust the temperature before hurrying out of the bathroom, trying not to think about his dick and how badly you would’ve gotten on your knees for him if he had asked.

“That would be a waste of my godly powers then, don’t you think?”

You don’t even need to look at him to see the cocky smirk on his face. Slamming the bathroom door shut behind you, you rush back into your room hoping that he at least possesses enough common sense to know how to turn the shower off.

The following days go by with Dabi finding a new way to tease you, whether it was walking around the house shirtless or him walking in on you taking a shower. To say that you were up to your neck with the desire to have him fuck you senseless one minute and wanting to strangle the life out of him the next was an understatement. But according to Dabi, once you had both verbally agreed on the deal you’d made he couldn’t leave until the job was finished.

Meaning, that until you got revenge on Bakugou, Dabi was going to be sticking around. Throughout the time that you spent together, Dabi had told you more than you thought you would get out of him. How he’d gotten his scars, why his altar had been separated from the others. As much as people needed vengeance, praying to a god as powerful as Dabi meant that in the wrong hands his powers could very well cause irreversible damage. Not that he had a problem with it, but the priests had decided long ago that his altar needed to be kept away from vengeful hearts.

Until you came along of course, he’d immediately noticed your energy the second you had stepped foot in the temple. No matter how hard you tried to conceal your feelings, Dabi had noticed them and led you straight to his altar. You had been a little mad at first, having been so easily caught trapped but the more you thought about it the less you cared. Besides, you were beginning to enjoy his company around your empty apartment.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Finally, after almost three weeks of putting up with him, the opportunity to get back at Bakugou presented itself.

“Have you ever been clubbing?” you ask over breakfast that morning.

Leaning back in his chair, Dabi’s curious eyes meet yours.

“What are you planning?”

“Bakugou’s best friend is having his birthday party at this club and he’s probably going to be there too. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I can find someone else if you’re uncom-”

“I’m not uncomfortable. That’s what I’m here for right?”

“Well I was just asking since you’re like, what, a couple centuries old? It might be weird to go dancing with all these young people” you flash him an innocent smile at his unamused glare.

“Last time I checked your eyes were practically begging me to fuck you” He retorts making you choke on your coffee. Smirking in victory he leans in closely to whisper in your ear.

“Try harder next time doll”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

The rest of the day flew by and the closer the time got for you to leave, the more anxious you felt. You couldn’t help but start to doubt everything about your plan for revenge. For all you knew, Bakugou could care less about who you were hooking up with as long as he was getting his dick wet.

“Are you doubting me?” Dabi teased as you make your way to the club.

“No, but you don’t know what he’s like.”

You didn’t need to wait long to get in the club, your tight black dress and Dabi’s “charm” were more than enough to allow you to skip the line and get in. His hand never leaves your lower back as you make your way through the crowd and towards the bar. The two of you down a few shots, the alcohol makes its way through your veins and before long you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed.

Grabbing Dabi’s hand you drag him to the dance floor, it doesn’t take him long to get the hang of grinding up on you and for once you’re not mad about him being a tease. His hand is firmly resting on your hip, you’re a bit more tipsy than you had wanted to get but the song the dj is playing is setting the mood making you hot and bothered. When Dabi’s lips start kissing their way along the side of your neck you’re more than willing to give him more space to leave a few marks.

Your eyes are closed as your bodies grind together and you don’t notice the way Bakugou is glaring with murderous intent at Dabi. Just as you’re starting to loosen up a distance voice snaps you out of your trance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Opening your eyes you find Bakugou standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What does it look like I’m doing. I’m dancing” the song that were dancing to ends and another more upbeat one follows.

“With him? I knew your standards were low but I didn’t think you were that desperate” He snorts, your blood instantly boils making the back of your neck prickle with rage.

“Hmm, let’s take this outside. What do you say?” Dabi asks with a playful tone in his voice.

“Whatever” Bakugou grumbles before shoving his way through the crowd of drunk dancing bodies.

Dabi and Bakugou confronting each other was something you hadn’t thought was going to happen when you’d agreed to let Dabi help you get your revenge on him. But as luck would have it, here you were standing in an alley outside of the club with Dabi in front of you and Bakugou glaring daggers into him.

“Oi, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but she’s mine.”

“Yours? Aren’t you the dickhead who cheated on her? Why would she want you back” Dabi’s laugh isn’t teasing like the ones you’ve heard before. It’s condescending, and you start to feel an energy you’ve never felt before radiating off of him.

“Tell me, dollface.” His voice is deeper and when he turns to look back at you his eyes are darker with what you hope is “Is this mutt really the one you want fucking you right now?” Bakugou’s jaw twitches and he clenches his fist ready to swing at Dabi.

“Tch, down boy” he sighs and just like that Bakugou’s body is slammed down to the cement. You’ve never seen Dabi use his powers before and it does nothing to calm the raging storm of lust about to boil over in your.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to pick up where I left off before you rudely interrupted.” Your wide eyes are still focused on Bakugou’s form kneeling behind Dabi, until he grabs your jaw with one hand and backs you up against the wall.

“I’d much rather you focus on me than him” He mumbles, giving you a sly smile before claiming your lips in a heated kiss. His lips are so much better than you imagined, soft and yet rough at the same time. The cold staples on the corner of his lips lightly scrape against your skin but you don’t care. Sliding your hands underneath his shirt you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer to you.

Your nails clawing at his back hard enough to make him hiss and bite down harshly on the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulders met. If your brain wasn’t so muddled with pleasure it might have been more painful but it only sent sparks throughout your whole body. It didn’t matter how tightly you grabbed him and pulled him closer into you, it wasn’t enough.

Dabi hooked your right leg over his hip, the other hand trailing up the back of your neck tangling his hand in your hair and pulling it back. The feeling of his lips sucking dark marks onto your flesh elicited a loud wanton moan from your lips. Your fingers buried themselves in his raven locks tugging his head up so you can slip your tongue between his lips. The hand holding your thigh tightens as a carnal growl makes its way up his throat.

Kissing a god was nothing like you’d ever experienced before, it felt like with each kiss he was stealing the air right from your lungs.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, Dabi could have ended your life right then and there and you would have let him. Throughout the past few weeks he’s been living with you, you’ve pictured this in your mind countless times. But you’d never thought that there was a chance in hell that it was ever going to happen. Yet here you were, back scraping against the brick wall of the club’s alley with Dabi’s fingers digging into your hips in a way that would leave their mark there for days.

His lips moved against yours like he was a man starved of touch and affection, his teeth bit harshly against your bottom lip pulling a half strangled moan from your throat. His hands, which felt like they were growing hotter every time he brushed against your bare skin, tightened their hold on your hips to grind you against his dick. The sharp hiss he lets out goes straight to your already throbbing pussy, something about knowing that you’re the one making him feel like this and lose control of himself just makes you want to push him farther and see how long it’ll take to break him.

Reaching down between your bodies you grab his hips trying to bring them closer to yours for more much needed friction. The action makes Dabi chuckle against your lips.

“Impatient aren’t we princess?” Dabi tries to come off as nonchalant but he wants it just as much you do. He’s been holding out for weeks, at first he just enjoyed making you flustered, pushing all your buttons to see how you’d react. But the longer he spent with you the more his feelings turned from curiosity to genuine interest and the small embers of lust that lay dormant in his gut had erupted into a fire that was rapidly consuming him.

It was dirty and rushed, teeth clacking together as you both tried to bring your bodies closer together until there was not an inch of space left between you. Your dress was now barely hanging on to your hips, but you couldn’t care less because the only thing on your mind was feeling Dabi inside you NOW. Rolling yourself against his dick the best you can while having one leg on the ground, you can’t help but smirk when Dabi moans into your mouth. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing your thighs where the hem of your dress meets your exposed skin before inching closer to where you want him most. His arm sets your leg down in favour of spreading your legs wider for him, tugging your dress up even higher to give himself a better view.

“So fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet” Dabi laughs in your ear, enjoying the way you inhale sharply as his fingers circle your puffy clit.

“Dabi, don’t be a tease” you shoot back, trying to sound as dominant as you can but instead it comes out as a breathy whine. The contrast of his soft top lip combined with the roughness of his bottom lip against your neck was making you dizzy. It was the perfect combination of pain and pleasure, and it was only serving to turn you on even more knowing that you had provoked him into doing this.

“You know, I was going to fuck you anyway but don’t you think it’s a little more vengeful if I show your charming ex how to really make you scream?” You were so distracted by the feeling of finally letting out your sexual frustrations that you’d forgotten all about Bakugou who was still under Dabi’s influence.

Before you can answer him, Dabi slides two fingers into you with ease curling them at just the right angle to have you panting against his neck. His movements are anything but gentle and he gives you no time to adjust to his pace as he works his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. Your hands wrap around his biceps, allowing you to have some sort of stability while he’s finger fucking you fast enough to leave you light headed.

“Such a fucking tight pussy you’ve got doll” he chuckles breathlessly. His thumb nudges against your clit tightening the coil of white heat rapidly building up in your lower stomach. His fingers are hitting against your sweet spot so perfectly, every thrust knocking the air out of your lungs in breathy moans as he increases his pace.

The wet sloppy sounds of his fingers in you are only heightening your arousal. Dabi’s lips start sucking against the space between your neck and shoulders, making you tilt your head to give him better access. You’re so close you can feel yourself coming undone, without warning Dabi bites down hard enough to break the skin sending you towards your first orgasm. You don’t even care that you’re moaning loud enough for anyone to hear you, Dabi’s fingers don’t stop giving you no chance to recover.

“Come on princess, I know you’ve got another one for me. Cum on my fucking fingers like a good slut” his rough voice right against your ear does nothing to help bring you down from your high. You’re helpless to do anything but let yourself become putty in his hands as another orgasm leaves you breathless and nearly sobbing against him.

You whine at the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you, but you don’t have to wait long before he turns your body around to face the wall, bending you over and unzipping his jeans to free his aching cock.

“Remember when I said we’d discuss what I wanted in exchange for helping you out?” he asks, his voice raw with arousal as he slides the tip of his cock against your dripping folds. You can barely remember what he’s talking about, your mind is so focused on wanting to feel him inside you that you can barely keep track of what he’s saying.

“I think this is a pretty good exchange don’t you think?” Not giving you a chance to respond he grabs your hip with one hand and tangles your hair with the other while sheathing his cock fully inside you with one sharp thrust. Your nails dig into the brick wall as you fail to bite back a scream. He’s so thick that you can feel the veins of his cock rubbing against your walls with each thrust. The hand fisting your hair tightens its grip, pulling your head back towards him. Dabi’s hot breaths are hitting against the base of your neck, the feeling of him inside you is making your head spin with pleasure.

“Go on, tell him who’s fucking you this good” Dabi’s hips are slapping against your ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less.

“You are” you whimper but it’s not good enough.

“Say my fucking name” he growls in your ear before reaching down to rub hard circles against your clit.

“F-fuck! Dabi! You feel so fucking good” you cry out as another orgasm washes over you making your legs feel like jelly. You’re almost certain that anyone within a two block radius can hear how loud you’re screaming but you don’t care. Before you can process what’s happening Dabi pulls out of you flipping you back around to face him and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist he slowly pushes back into your hot walls.

“Such a greedy cunt you have, dollface” he grunts and you can’t do anything except nod. Your back hits the wall as Dabi’s hips rut against yours, the new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot with every thrust. His hand wraps around your throat, restricting your air flow and making your pussy clench around him.

“You like it when I choke you? Such a nasty little whore” he laughs, tightening the grip he has around your neck until the edges of your vision start to blacken.

“Your pussy’s so good I might have to keep you” You’re not even sure how he’s still managing to speak in full sentences, if there was anything that reminded you that Dabi was a god it was his insane stamina. He’d already fucked you through three orgasms without being anywhere near cumming. Not only that, but the force he was using the fuck you with was sure to leave you unable to walk for a week.

Your thighs tighten around his waist as he begins rubbing your clit once again making you whine loudly.

“Too much”

“You can take it baby” His fingers show you no mercy causing you to throw your head back against the wall. Your hands push against his shoulders trying to move him away but Dabi is a lot stronger than you gave him credit for.

“Cum on my fucking cock, you can do it. Show him what a good little slut you are for me” Your fingers are gripping his hair so hard you’re sure you’ve pulled some out as you cum around his dick, your eyes struggling to stay open as you feel liquid splashing against your thighs.

“That’s my girl, squirt all over my cock” His fingers grip your jaw as he brings your lips together in another heated kiss. His thrusts become sloppier and more rushed as he chases his own release.

“Fuck Dabi cum in me” you moan against his lips and he curses under his breath as he spills thick ropes of hot cum inside you. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you can barely stand on your legs when Dabi puts you down. You can feel his cum start to drip down your thighs as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. Your eyes finally gaze down towards Bakugou who looks like he’s about to burst a vein. His eyes are burning holes into your neck where dozens of dark marks litter your skin. From the sounds he’s making, you can tell he wants to say something but under Dabi’s control he’s powerless to do anything.

“How was that for revenge?” Dabi smirks.

“I don’t know, might have to try again at home” you reply cheekily.

“What makes you think you’re making it back home? I meant it when I said I was keeping you”

Masterlist

913 notes · View notes

foilfreak · 3 years ago

Text

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 5

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 Link below)

This was a bad idea... no, actually, scratch that. This wasn’t just a bad idea...

‘THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA’ Salvatore thought to himself, as he frantically hid beneath a large blue tarp covering a couple of old, rotting shipping crates, his body trembling uncontrollably and his shoulders heaving from the terrified and panicked state Salvatore had managed to work himself into.

Now, for those of you who may be wondering why Salvatore was currently hiding behind a bunch of crates like prey hiding from the hunter, despite being in the safety of his own reservoir-

“Hello?”

-that would be why.

Yes, the 2 days that Salvatore had been given to prepare for his gift’s arrival had come and gone faster than the disfigured man could have ever imagined. And while he’d done a marvelous job of cleaning up the reservoir to make it suitable for the beautiful young lady who’d now be calling this place ‘home’, what he hadn’t anticipated having to deal with was the full blown panic attack he got the second the villagers arrived to release her into his custody. Thankfully, his anxiety grew more manageable when one of the villagers explained that, due to Nadine’s tendency toward violent behavior, combined with her superhuman strength, Mother Miranda had gone ahead and given the young woman a nice heavy dose of sedative to keep her asleep throughout the journey to the reservoir, as well as for a couple of hours afterwards, too.

You know… just in case.

After the villagers finally left, Salvatore closed and locked the gate behind them before turning his attention to the large wooden coffin that, according to the men who’d carried it here, contained his long awaited gift from Mother Miranda.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Salvatore takes the metal key the villagers had given him and slowly, but eagerly, unlocked and opened the wooden vessel, gasping in shock and awe as the sight of Nadine’s perfectly angelic face finally came into the light. He wasn’t sure how this was possible, but somehow the young woman looked even more perfect than the first time he saw her, the soft glow of the early morning sun reflecting off her blue scaly skin in a way that gives her a gorgeous, almost iridescent shine.

The continued nudeness of Nadine’s body, while mesmerizing to look at, did unfortunately make the act of keeping his hands to himself rather difficult, and Salvatore quickly found himself grappling with his inner demons as he contemplated reaching in and taking a quick feel, just a quick one, if only for the sake of finally figuring out what on earth her skin was made out of.

Was it smooth and silky to allow for rapid aquatic maneuverability, like that of an eel, or did her soft, feminine exterior hide a rougher, more textured sort of skin, like that of a shark or a whale?

Oh how Salvatore longed, with every fiber of his disgusting, twisted being, to reach inside that wooden carrier and run his hands over the mutant woman’s perfect little body, every atom in him aching to touch, hold, kiss, lick, bite, and devour every square millimeter of this gorgeous specimen, blurring and melting the lines of reality that once separated them until you couldn’t tell where beast ended and where beauty began.

But he refrained.

As much as Salvatore desperately wanted to give in to the primal desires of his still-human mind and mostly-human body, he instead decided to give the young woman some time to wake up first, guessing that she probably wouldn’t want some random stranger, much less one that looks like him, touching her without her permission. So with a deep breath, and a strong swallowing of his raging libido, Salvatore stepped away from the crate Nadine was sleeping in, pocketing the key in case Mother wanted it back later, before turning around and beginning to hobble back toward the lake to complete the few minor tasks he hadn’t managed to get to before the villagers arrived earlier.

It would be well into the afternoon, nearly evening by this point, before Salvatore heard so much as a peep from Nadine. Mother Miranda must not have been kidding when she said she’d given the young woman enough sedative to knock her out for hours. If it weren’t for the fact that she was still breathing, Salvatore might have thought her dead after this amount of time.

Unfortunately for Salvatore, it would appear as though Nadine taking ages to awaken from her drug induced slumber would be the least of the deformed man’s concerns, quickly overrun and forgotten about in the blind panic Salvatore went into once the young woman’s voice, soft and slightly high pitched, though a bit scratchy from lack of use, calls out from, presumably, the spot where Salvatore had left her by the front gate.

The heavenly tone bounces and echoes off the wood and water of the surrounding area, filling the reservoir with a song-like magic that made Salvatore’s knees buckle weakly in reverence, and his stomach want to turn itself inside out from complete and utter terror. Hit with the sudden realization that Salvatore was going to have to actually look at AND speak to Nadine now that she’d awoken, and at the same time no less, immediately sends the mutant man tumbling into a full blown panic, resulting in Salvatore locating the nearest solid structure, the tarp and crates in this case, and throwing himself underneath it, hoping and praying that if he remained quiet for long enough, Nadine would lose interest and go somewhere else-

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

-Unfortunately Salvatore wasn’t a man who had his hopes and prayers answered terribly often, and today seemed to be no different than usual.

Despite being given extra security due to the rapid approach of nightfall, Salvatore didn’t even dare breathe as the sound of footsteps passed by his hiding spot, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest as Nadine came within just inches of finding him. This is it, the jig is up, there was absolutely no doubt in Salvatore’s mind that Nadine was mere seconds away from pulling the tarp back to reveal his horrible and disgusting self, scrunched up into the tightest little ball between the narrow spaces of the crates.

Closing his teary eyes and accepting his fate, Salvatore merely sat and waited for the inevitable moment of shocked silence after the tarp had been lifted, followed by the sound of Nadine’s smooth and rich voice bursting his eardrums with a piercingly shrill and terrified shriek, as well the heavy booming of feet against wood as she ran away from him, disgusted, horrified, and appalled by so much as having to look at the monster that Salvatore was, much less do anything else.

“Ah man, I could have sworn I saw someone around here, earlier,” the low but feminine voice of Nadine said aloud, sounding quite dejected as she leaned against the blue tarp covering Salvatore’s hiding spot.

“Maybe they just went out to look for food, and will be back later?” Nadine says to herself, sounding more optimistic than before, though her hopefulness fades as quickly as it arrived when she continues with, “Then again… maybe the poor bastard caught a glimpse of me as I stumbled around and took off in terror at the sight of me. I suppose I can't really blame him… not with the way I look now, at least.”

Nadine pauses, trailing off for a moment as Salvatore remains rooted in his spot, hands clamped firmly over his mouth and nose to prevent any noise from escaping, despite the increasing burning sensation from his human lungs, which, despite their somewhat shaky ability to do their prescribed role ever since the cadou mutations screwed him up, still very much needed air going in and out of them if Salvatore wanted them to continue functioning at all.

The young woman remained in that spot leaning against the tarp-covered crates for a few more moments, not saying or doing anything as far as Salvatore could tell, before the sound of shuffling and more footsteps, softer and less hurried than the ones he’d heard earlier, caught his attention.

Silence persists for another moment, causing Salvatore to grow curious the longer he waits. And so, despite his earlier reservations, Salvatore can’t help but shift his position slightly so that he could peek through a narrow space between the wall of crates, just enough to give him a solid view of Nadine, who currently stood with her back to him just a few feet away from where the mutated man was hiding. Her gaze seemed transfixed on the lake’s surface, or perhaps it was less the water that held her gaze, but the reflection staring back at her from the mirror-like surface.

Even without seeing her face, Salvatore could tell that the young woman was afraid and in pain, and his heart wrenched agonizingly as he watched her beautiful form shrink in on itself. Her arms curled around her body defensively, as if trying to hide herself shamefully from any potential onlookers, while her torso slumped limply forward, shoulders shaking heavily as she sobbed quietly to herself in the ever growing darkness of evening time.

“Whatever, it’s not like it matters anyways,” the young woman sobs dejectedly after a while, pointlessly rubbing the tears from her face away, only for them to be quickly replaced as new ones fell. “Even if somebody did actually live here, it’s not like anyone would even want to help a disgusting abomination like me... much less have anything else to do with me.”

The sound of Nadine jumping off the dock and into the cold lake water below pales in comparison to the sound of Salvatore’s whole world turning itself upside down from beneath the large blue tarp under which he was hidden.

Disgusting abomination?

Nadine?

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

Of all the things Salvatore has ever heard in his entire life, this one has to be the most ridiculous thing by far.

Salvatore was a disgusting abomination, that much he was more than aware of and had long since accepted, as painful as it still was to admit from time to time. But Nadine… Why Nadine was quite easily the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on, save for perhaps Mother Miranda herself maybe, which was certainly a very high standard to be compared to in Salvatore’s book. While the young woman did indeed have several mutations that would make going back to her previous life almost impossible, that didn’t mean she was disgusting, or an abomination.

Not to Salvatore she wasn’t, at least.

The fact that the poor young woman thought this of herself sent a sharp, stabbing pain directly into his heart, practically tearing him apart from the inside out as he frantically thought of something, anything he could do to make the tiny woman feel better.

Thinking back to when he’d watched her just moments ago, he remembers the way in which her arms and hands curled around herself as she sobbed, looking like they were attempting to cover as much exposed skin as physically possible. How Nadine could call herself an abomination when she looked like the picture perfect definition of beauty, Salvatore didn’t know, but what he did know was that women, at least the women he was used to, always enjoyed receiving pretty things with which they could cover and decorate themselves, like dresses and jewelry.

And luckily for Salvatore, he just so happens to know of a few places where he might be able to acquire both of those things.

With a quick peek from beneath the tarp before taking off, Salvatore quickly makes his way toward the exit gate, barely managing to close the gate behind him and pull his cloak over himself before sprinting, as much as his mangled body would allow anyways, down the snowy path that would lead him to the estates of the only two people Salvatore can think of to help him in this messy situation.

Hopefully Alcina and Donna won’t be terribly upset with him for stopping by unannounced.

41 notes · View notes

digitalworldbound · 3 years ago

Text

one step forward

Pairing: Ken x Miyako

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 on the prompt list) Requested by @digichijouji02

Author’s Note: I’ve never written a “song-fic”, but I love Olivia Rodrigo’s album AND Kenyako, so this?? was the result. (this is unedited and kind of abrupt)

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

Daisuke had given her Ken’s number as a preemptive measure. “Even if he isn’t apart of our team right now, I’m sure the others will come around soon.”

His oppressive optimism was almost worse than Takeru’s. Iori had made his stance clear on the situation, and Miyako could feel the guilt bubble up in her stomach as she punched the digits into her house phone. Nerves settled into her hands, her fingers desperately rearranging her hair in an effort to feel in control.

Three short rings later, the line picked up. His breath ghosted over the receiver. Miyako’s carefully planned greeting died on her lips. “Ah, is this Ken?” It was a stupid question – how else would she have his number if she didn’t know who he was? She pushed the phone closer to her ear, straining to discover any sound through the cloud of white static. Nothing.

Her heart pounded in her chest. In all of the reactions she prepared herself for, Miyako hadn’t expected silence. She wanted him to be angry; he had every right to be. She wanted him to yell at her or cry or scream. Screaming would be more bearable than the static he was giving her now.

“How have you been? You know, since…everything?” The sharp intake of breath short-circuited her brain. Ken had just watched his partner dissolve in front of his eyes, and she had the audacity to ask how he was holding up? A flush of shame crawled up her neck. She prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her.

The receiver clicked. Miyako hated the way the dial tone mocked her.

You got me messed up in the head, boy Never doubted myself so much Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy? I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

Winter air nipped at her exposed cheeks. It had taken her a while to find his apartment; her toes felt like ice in her boots. He hadn’t really spoken to her since the phone call, only acknowledging her when the situation called for it. Nevertheless, he had invited them all over for a Christmas party, and who was Miyako to say no?

His mother opened the door, the smell of freshly baked gingersnaps escaping into the night. “Come in, dear. You must be Miyako! My Ken has told me a lot about you.” The woman ushered Miyako towards a bedroom door before her shock could register. What is there to tell? The only time I’ve talked to him was to slap him in the face.

Ken’s mother knocked lightly on the door, announcing Miyako’s arrival. For some reason, she could feel her cheeks burn when Ken gestured her further into his bedroom. “You look nice, Miyako.” His voice was barely a whisper, the boisterous arguing of Takeru and Daisuke nearly drowning him out.

Self-consciously, she caught her reflection in the glass of a clock on the wall. It had been a harsh winter, the snow getting the best of any potential customers to her family’s convenience store. Her sister’s skirt was too short for Miyako’s long legs, so she layered her old ballet tights underneath. They did little to fend off the cold, but it preserved what little dignity she had around her friends. The attempts at curling her hair were futile. Snowflakes clung to the curls, the strands now hanging limply around her face. She grumbled a bit under her breath, racking her brain for the reasoning behind Ken’s blatant lie.

A card game was in full swing by the time Miyako wedged herself between Iori and Takeru. They both smiled at her before turning back to the issue at hand: Daisuke was cheating.

“Just because I have natural talent doesn’t mean that you can be jealous, Takeru.”

“I don’t think it takes natural talent to look at Hikari’s cards.” The blond deadpanned. Iori sighed and exchanged a look with Ken. They, unlike Takeru and Daisuke, seemed to have formed a companiable silence in the midst of the chaos.

Daisuke’s bickering rattled her brain. With Ken’s unsolicited compliment and the constant arguing, Miyako was already at her wit’s end. “Can you both just shut up and stop trying to mark your territory like untrained puppies?”

Her voice echoed off of Ken’s bare walls. Their Digimon temporarily stopped their feast to look at her curiously. Poromon bounced into her lap, snuggling into her chest. Five pairs of wide yes regarded her with surprise, and Miyako could feel herself grow uncomfortably warm. A giggle burst from Ken’s lips, his cheeks rosy. She had never heard him laugh before.

Soon, they were all laughing. Cards were strewn about as they rolled on the floor, laughing harder when they realized they couldn’t stop.

As the party wrapped up, Miyako was the last to leave. Poromon and Minomon snuggled together underneath a blanket while Ken talked. Her cheeks warmed under the attention, but Ken either didn’t notice or was too kind to mention it. The hands on the clock ticked forwards until his mother startled them with a knock. “Miyako, it’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.” Her eyes were soft and full of kindness; Ken had inherited her smile.

“Of course! I apologize for staying so late. Thank you for allowing me to come over.” She stood and bowed clumsily. Her family valued no such formalities, but if anyone deserved them, it was Ken’s mother.

Ken walked her to his threshold, a hand nervously resting on her back. Despite being underdressed, he stepped out into the chilly night air behind her. A smile played on his lips, causing a swarm of butterflies to erupt in Miyako’s stomach.

“I wasn’t joking, you know?” His eyes looked out onto the horizon. Miyako raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” The cold had already wormed its way through her tights; she was ready to get home.

His dark blue eyes met hers. “You do look nice tonight.” For someone so shy, so quiet, Ken said it with a conviction that made Miyako’s cheeks color.

Her hands were sweaty, her heart was so loud. Maybe I’m getting sick.

Ken’s eyes were so earnest, so full, waiting her response. The ball was in her court, and she was fumbling. “Ah, um, Ken, I don’t know what to say.” His shoulders drooped, eyes tearing away from hers before fixating on some imaginary point in the distance.

“You don’t have to say anything. Goodnight, Miyako.”

He didn’t have a chance to turn the doorknob before the older girl began to panic. She grabbed his wrist, pulling his backwards.

“No! Ken, that’s not what I meant! I mean, at first I had no idea, and then Daisuke was being all, well, Daisuke. But then the cards were all a mess and this isn’t even my skirt, and I had no-“

Ken’s lips twitched upwards, his eyes empty. “Miyako, you don’t have to make me feel better.” He glances at his watch, “It’s getting late, you should be on your way home.”

“No.” Her hand tightened around his wrist. Ken looked so small and confused that Miyako’s heart gave a painful lurch. Ken couldn’t leave until she said her piece.

The air burned her throat; she was sure that he could feel her fingers tremble against his skin. “I’m trying to say thank you. It’s just that I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I’ve never been in this situation before, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

Silence, then “You think I’m cute?”

'Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back I'm the love of your life until I make you mad It's always one step forward and three steps back Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand No, I don't understand

It must have been something in the eggnog, she thought. That’s the only explanation. It was the fourth of January. Her D-Terminal had remained silent since the defeat MaloMyotismon, Ken ignoring her messages with a practiced ease. It was hard to not take it personal. She knew that they all needed the space and time to grieve, but Ken hated to be alone. Miyako had been so sure that they were finally getting somewhere, finally becoming friends. Her inbox was empty.

The shrine was also uncharacteristically empty, her family making up the majority of the crowd. Her family had also remained silent. Ultimately, they were glad she was safe. Her siblings were miffed that their little sister had been trapezing between worlds while they focused on their math homework but were incredibly proud of the way she handled herself. Her parents hadn’t looked in her eyes since.

She had tried to message her friends about it, but not even Iori would respond. Lost in thought, her brother shoved her forward when it was her turn to pray. Muscle memory was the only reason she was capable of tossing in her coins and clapping.

Prayer seemed superficial in the face of the battle they had fought. Prayer hadn’t saved the children from their Dark Seeds or made the fight any easier to win. Still, her head bowed in thanks. At least her friends had been spared.

She prayed for strength, to face whatever came next. She prayed for the wellbeing of her family, and her partner. She prayed for her friends; she prayed for Ken.

Her D-Terminal beeped.

#kenyako #ken ichijouji #miyako inoue

22 notes · View notes

shoichee · 4 years ago

Text

Red Rose

Part 3 of the Pun Fest collection!

Akashi x Reader

Word Count: 4,355

Synopsis: You made it a challenge for yourself as the esteemed 1st year class clown to get a reaction out of Akashi. Not just any Akashi, however. Boku-Akashi. Things quickly get too out of hand.

Note: I will be trying to avoid describing the “color” of Akashi’s eyes because they are actually a non-diegetic effect, where the animation/visuals are flashy/emphasized for the audience to see, but in the canon universe, they don’t actually look like that and no one will actually see said animations, and such.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“...and after that, his ass fell flat on the floor right in front of everybody! Can you believe that?”

As your voice chimed throughout the halls, your fellow classmates were stifling their laughter but chortles still escaped from their suppressed lips. Hayama smacked your head in utter embarrassment.

“You’ve already told that story to everyone, c-cut it out already!”

“Kotarooooo,” you pouted. “Not my fault that they kept asking for me to retell it again.” You stuck your tongue at him.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue, figurative irk marks popping up on his temple. “You needa show some more respect to your senpais!” With that, he started grabbing your head to mess with your hair.

“H-Hey! It’s not my fault that you tried to impress a passerby 3rd year girl by doing a failed dribbling trickshot,” you vehemently protested, trying to rip his strong grip off your poor hairline.

Your classmates were either watching with complete entertainment or with concern for your safety as both you and the Uncrowned King were duking it out and sidestepping each other.

… That is, until they grew increasingly uncomfortable after spotting a particular redhead walking in their direction.

You and Hayama were too invested in the playfight to notice the unforeseen deathly silence and chilled air that accompanied it.

“Kotarō.”

With a simple call from his airy tone that still somehow glaciated the sunniest of atmospheres, he halted both of you (with his hand still fisted in your hair and you still pulling his cheek) to turn your attention to the person to whom the voice belonged.

Akashi Seijuro.

“C-captain!” Hayama separated from you at an inhumane speed that rivaled his lightning dribbling. You stiffened yourself straight like a plank.

You’ve heard the rumors. From whispering gossipers to personal testimony from your blonde best friend, you knew his presence meant anything but pleasant.

“Did you forget that we had practice today?”

Holy shit. You glanced in the corner of your eye to see Hayama paled before he gulped. Was he gonna be okay?

You dared not move a muscle from where you stood, hoping not to attract the basketball captain’s attention, but you knew you stuck out like a sore thumb after seeing how all the students huddled closer to the walls while you were stuck in the middle along with Hayama and Akashi.

“I knew that you forgot, so I came by for your sake so we can all start practice together as an absolute team.”

Ah… there was his infamous favorite word.

Akashi flickered his catlike gaze to you. He didn’t miss the way your body was paralyzed by fear, but he slightly narrowed his pupils at the fact that you almost looked curious about him.

“We’re going.” He gracefully pivoted around to walk the opposite direction in where he came from.

“I-I’ll see you later, dummy,” he whispered, giving you a playful wink before he strode up to Akashi’s pace, but you knew from his tense back that he was scared shitless of whatever inevitable punishment drill he was going to be tortured by.

You recovered from your stupor and tried to ease Hayama with a joke. “Don’t act all tough, Kota! I know you’re gonna akashit your pants!—” You snorted trying to finish your one-liner but finding your own joke funny. “P-pf-pfft, don’t slip on the floor again, okay?”

And just like that, with your words, the students around you eased up and let out soft chuckles.

Hayama turned back around even as he continued walking. “Oi! Watch it, kid!” He made the motions of pointing his eyes to you, but you knew that he was grateful for you in trying to unravel his bundle of nerves.

Akashi, still walking, merely glanced back at your figure, unamused at your “joke” but nonetheless almost impressed that you actually had some type of leadership charisma to be able to uplift a crowd’s mood in an instant.

. . .

Everyone released a huge sigh of collective relief once the basketball-player duo was out of sight.

“Are you insane, (l/n)?” Another good friend of yours went up to your side. “You had the balls to literally say such a thing in front of him? Of all people?”

“Well, it’s not like, I’d get sent to the faculty office because of him…” you muttered. On second thought, you probably would. This was Akashi Seijuro you were talking about.

Everyone started clamoring as they all started seeing you in a much higher regard; some of them even looked at you with starry eyes and others swore to be your new admirers. The rest, though, thought you had just sealed your fate by getting under Akashi’s radar.

“You’ll be missed and honored,” a classmate said, giving a solid pat to your right shoulder. “What type of flowers would you like for your funeral?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, pointing to your chin and staring at the grand ceiling. You turned to them. “Roses as red as Akashi’s hair and the blood of his victims.”

“(l/n), you did not—”

“Oh my god.”

“Is it too late to become religious just to pray for your wellbeing?”

You just summoned chaos in the hallway for the next hour.

---------

The next morning was just another indication of a mild, warm day in Kyoto as you walked past Rakuzan’s school gates. Or at least, you thought the morning would be fine. Even with your thick uniform blazer, you swore that you felt cold chills running down your spine every now and then when you were strolling your normal route to your class.

There’s the cold chills again.

You stopped and looked around your shoulders and behind your back. No one shady was near; they were all too busy chatting with their friends or changing their shoes in their lockers to care much for your presence. Those who noticed you nearby had already given you a friendly greeting.

You hesitantly walked again, being your usual carefree self but now being hyper aware in tracking the students around you. Your eyes widened.

There.

Had you blinked in that moment, you would have surely missed it, but a flash of red flitted around a corner of a hallway. You sighed and groaned inwardly.

Your classmates were right: you were going to die by the hands of a certain redhead.

This was the price you had to pay for not passing up the perfect opportunity for an iconic line.

---------

“Say,” you said turning to your friend once you entered your classroom. “Has Akashi ever shown a side other than being a calm freak?”

“I don’t know if you ever wanna see anything different than that,” she replied, looking up from her homework.

“Imagine him laughing, though. That’d be news of the century.”

“Dear god, I can’t imagine him laughing other than the kind of scheming cackle you’d get from the TV show villains.” You bursted into a fit of snorts while other students, who were secretly eavesdropping out of curiosity after hearing Akashi’s name, snickered.

Another student wedged himself into your conversation. “No one’s ever seen him show any side of him though. Honestly, he’s like a demon.”

“He’s a 1st year student just like the rest of us,” you chided. “Come on, he’s human too. He wasn’t born to be a calculating machine.”

Everyone in the vicinity gave you incredulous looks (for valid reasons, to be fair).

“Hmph!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll prove it to you guys! He’s not as stone-cold as you think!”

“(y-y/n)-san…” Your friend from earlier tugged onto your sleeve. “You’re really fun to hang around with and all, but…”

“Yeah, um… We know you’re competitive and don’t like to back down, but I think you shouldn’t tread into this type of… dangerous territory.”

“Did you already forget what happened with Hayama-senpai yesterday?”

Pretty soon, a large chorus of agreements and mumbles spread throughout your class. Irked, you pouted as you continued to cross your arms.

“I’m gonna make him laugh, and I’ll do it.”

“Uh..”

“Um…”

No one had the heart to disagree with you when you looked like you sparked a fiery aura around yourself as you raised your fists, ready to take it as a challenge for yourself.

Your classmate sighed. Welp, there’s a reason why you got along with Hayama so well in the first place.

You were both so overly enthusiastic and reckless.

---------

You’ve been thrumming your fingers on your desk throughout your classes, staring blankly as you start stringing up ideas on how to accomplish your “challenge.”

Succeeding in making Akashi laugh is like Hayama agreeing to let the dentist extract his snaggletooth. You’re basically asking for the impossible.

Maybe you should’ve settled for a more realistic goal, but then again, this entire ordeal was an entire miracle on its own.

Ah ha. You stopped your finger taps, hitting a fist to your palm in realization. Maybe you just need to get a reaction out of him, and the rest will eventually fall into place.

At the same time, your friend looked at you in worry; you were making odd hand gestures and mumbling to yourself as you went too deep within your thoughts to regard your surroundings.

Oh dear.

---------

Once lunch began, you immediately left class after incoherent chants of “seeyah” and “gotta go” to go look for Hayama’s corpse and pay your respects for the poor 2nd year after yesterday.

You bought sweet bread from the student store for his offering before you went to look for him.

At the sight of the completely lethargic Hayama, you ran up to him in mock grief.

“Ah, spirit-sama!” you cried out, bowing with your hands clasped together (the bread secured in between). “Please at least tell me that Kota died peacefully—” He interrupted you with a chop to the head.

“Ow! Please don’t curse me, spirit! I didn’t treat him that poorly when he was alive…” You winced, rubbing your head in an attempt to soothe the impact.

“I’m not dead, idiot!” he retorted, but his banter lacked bite, and both of you knew why.

You sighed before you flashed him a genuine worried expression. “Are you okay, though?” You promptly handed him the bread, and he immediately did a 180, hooting and having starry eyes at the package.

“Of course I am,” he said, munching on the bread. “Not! He made me do so many extra drills and exercises that I seriously thought I was gonna die!”

“Okay, before you totally freak out, but please don’t freak out,” you started. You told him about your plan about Akashi.

“You’re gonna WHAT—”

“SHHHhhhHHH—” You clamped over his mouth despite him still chewing. “What did I just say?”

“Reo-nee! Ei-chan!” he called out while you still attempted to close his yapper. “Save meeeee!”

The said Uncrowned Kings nearby eyed you two before looking at each other and shrugged; they strolled up to you.

“Oh? (y/n)-chan?” Reo tucked his strands behind his ear. “Has he been causing a ruckus?”

“I have not—”

“Actually, since you’re here anyways, I wanna ask you all something,” you said. “What do you know about Akashi personally?”

“Huh?” was all you heard from the Uncrowned Kings.

“Well…” Reo hummed. “I might know a thing or two about Sei-chan…”

“I’ll just go get lunch,” Nebuya called out.

---------

Day 1 of the Challenge.

Thanks to Reo, you knew most of Akashi’s schedules so you can find the perfect opportunities to “safely” encounter him.

You waited behind a corner of the hall that you knew Akashi would walk through to get to the student council room during lunch. Peeking out, you looked for scarlet hair, ignoring the judgmental (and curious) glances thrown your way here and there.

The moment you saw that everyone instantly collectively vanished, you knew Akashi was extremely nearby. You took a huge breath, expanding your chest to the point of exaggeration, and turned around the corner to finally meet the infamous emperor.

You casually strolled, putting up an impeccable act that you were naturally there rather than staking out the same spot for 20 minutes.

There he is.

You purposely got closer, hoping the closeness between you two would catch his attention. He walked without a change in expression, however, impassively eyeing you before turning his gaze back to the front. That’s when you saw your opportunity.

You almost bumped into him, but you jumped away at the last second while putting your hands up in surrender.

“W-whoa! Wahh, sorry, Akashi-san!” you quickly apologized in a bow. “Luckily, I had my emperor’s eye to foresee the future and prevented any mishap on my part.” You peeked up from your position to see him standing with his back to you, head turned to the side.

A few beats of silence passed before he said, “Your head is too high.”

“Huh?” You were thrown off. That was the last thing you expected him to say. “Wouldn’t my head not be high because I’m bowing?”

He was still assessing you from the corner of his eye, and you willed yourself to return his stare.

“Stay out of my way.”

“Then you should take your own advice,” you huffed, getting up from your bow. “Yesterday morning, I knew you were watching me at some point before you disappeared.”

But he just turned his head back to the front and continued his intended course for the student council room.

Day 1 Results: he scared the daylights out of you instead of you trying to unnerve him.

---------

Day 2 of the Challenge.

What the hell did he mean by “your head is too high?” You still couldn’t decipher his cryptic line. Maybe he just said it to everyone, but that would be really corny of him; he wasn’t that type of person.

Did he think you were too much of a peasant to even talk to him?

You gritted your teeth. You weren’t gonna give up any time soon.

When everyone was dismissed after school, Hayama let you accompany him to Rakuzan’s spacious gym, under the belief that you were going to go home right after.

As soon as you were both in front of the bulky front doors, you marched right in, catching the blonde off guard so much at the fact that you waltzed in there (full knowing Akashi was in there). He couldn’t yank you out in time even with his lightning reflexes, and you skipped around, being careful to stay near the gym walls to not disrupt anyone. You plopped yourself on one of the further benches where you knew none of the players would ever sit, and as soon as you knew Akashi was in earshot (who was ignoring your existence), you smirked.

“Hey Kota!”

“Huh?” He looked up from rummaging through his duffel bag.

“I’ve heard shogi is being played a lot more by people our age for once, but don’t you think it’s such a dread to play such a dull hobby?”

“Yeah, righ—oh.” He swallowed back his answer in seeing Akashi behind you a few meters away, being as still as a statue.

You gleefully looked behind you, hoping for any entertaining response.

Without moving, he slinked his pupils to you before grabbing a water bottle and leaving.

“C-c-can you just drop this entire thing already?” Hayama runs to your side to give your shoulders a firm shake. “I swear to god, you’re not gonna live at this point!”

“You’re right,” you said. “Just for today, I’ll have to retreat before I’ll die.”

“Not just today!” He shook you harder. “I mean stop this for good!”

“Kota, I already signed a death certificate the moment I bumped into him yesterday. Might as well go all out.”

“Oh god, you started this yesterday?”

“Well, I gotta go! See you tomorrow!”

“... More like see you never.”

Day 2 Results: his reaction was inconclusive, but it was more of a failure than success.

---------

Day 3 of the Challenge.

You were pondering about how to annoy Akashi next, both excited and terrified about where this was going to end up.

“(l/n).”

“Y-yes?” You stood straight up from your seat the moment your homeroom teacher called you.

“During lunch, please make your way to the student council room. You’re needed.”

What in the world was going on?

You fidgeted in your seat for the next few hours, shooting anxious glances at the clock every so often. All your classmates’ words of encouragement went through one ear and out the other.

“You’ll be fine!”

“I’m sure a teacher just wants you to help out with some workload…”

“We’re rooting for you!”

As the lunch bell rang, you braced yourself before you promptly made your way to the room that reeked of that particular chilled atmosphere that repelled most students away.

You prodded the door open, slipped in, and softly clicked the door shut before turning around to face the poker-faced terror sitting on his desk, watching your every move.

“Right on time.”

“You called me here?”

Akashi paid no heed to your outburst and continued. “I’ll admit. I’m quite interested in you. You have the innate sense of magnetism that draws others in.”

D-did he just compliment you?

“I would like to put your leadership to the test. You’re now vice.”

“What? You can’t just make a decision like that!”

“I ordered him to quit. There shouldn’t be a problem.”

What the hell?

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell—

Akashi looked at you like he was peering into the depths of your conscience and simply gave a civil smile.

“I hope you will contribute greatly to this school.”

Day 3 Result: a miserable failure.

---------

Day 4 of the Challenge.

You’re stressed, and it’s all Akashi’s fault.

Which made you even more determined to ruffle his feathers and rile him up.

When news broke out of your new “promotion” as vice president, your classmates celebrated for you and your already high popularity skyrocketed. Your teachers didn’t want to hear you talking about quitting when you “haven’t tried anything yet to know if this job was for you.”

The Rakuzan’s basketball starters (minus Mayazumi) were initially ecstatic for you as well… until you told them about Akashi’s string-pullings.

“I’ll make sure Sei-chan won’t do anything, okay (y/n)-chan?”

“Thanks a bunch, Reo-kun… or should I say… Reokunma (Rilakkuma bear)?” You snapped your fingers at him. He just stared at you and patted your head, totally disregarding the fact that you made a pun.

“Just pack in the muscles and you’ll have nothing to worry about!” Nebuya flexed his biceps before getting a scolding from Reo.

“Shortie! Call me whenever you need help!” Hayama dropped his elbow on top of your shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Argh, Kotarō! You’re not that much taller than me at all!” You rolled your eyes. “If anyone, why don’t you say that to Akashi?”

“Say what.”

Oh fuck.

“S-Sei-chan!...” Reo walked over to Akashi. “If you’re here for us, I thought practice didn’t start until much later!”

“I am here for (y/n).”

His irises contracted, highlighting his feline pupils. “I am depending on you as vice president to make this school an absolute powerhouse.”

He still somehow made that sound extremely condescending, like a king encouraging a mere peasant.

You were scared out of your wits, but you weren’t going to crumble so easily. Not until Akashi did first.

“Buh-bye, everyone! Good luck in practice later!”

. . .

The walk back to the office was painfully silent. You decided to break it.

“I’m not taking back what I said, prez, you’re a shortie.”

He paused in his steps. “You run your mouth while knowing no bounds.”

“You’re just a spoilsport, y’know.”

“My orders are absolute.”

“You know, you’re scary as shit, but the whole ‘absolute’ line kinda grows old when I hear it every time I talk to you.”

Palpable silence blanketed between the two of you once again at your words.

This guy can’t even crack no matter what you do.

You stepped into the office and followed him to his desk. He walked to grab a pen from a drawer before he approached you.

He stepped forward, thrusted the sleek, black fountain pen to your face, and jerked back the writing instrument at the last millisecond.

You froze, forgetting to breathe as you felt the pen nib harshly prodding the tip of your nose.

“Do not make me repeat myself. My orders are absolute.”

He then gave you some paperwork and assignments to complete like nothing ever transpired.

Day 4 Results: you thought being relentless in your attacks would prove beneficial, but you’re starting to regret everything.

---------

Day 5 of the Challenge.

Maybe you needed to avoid direct confrontation, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get a reaction from him in other ways.

One small perk of being vice was the fact that you no longer needed to tail around Akashi in order to bump into him “coincidentally,” but you’re not sure if this sole advantage could outweigh the disadvantages, particularly one that might result in your early death.

You’re frankly not as scared as you should be, even though you definitely were at those times you were with Akashi. If anything, it pissed you off that he’s always able to get you to jump out of your skin.

He’s just a 1st year. He’s just a 1st year.

You went to the student council room early to tape on a note to his desk, so there wouldn’t be a chance that it would “fall off his desk” and that “he didn’t see it.”

Roses are red,

I suppose you’re “absolute.”

You’ll still be knocked dead,

And there’ll be no dispute.

You snickered. It was too funny to pass up.

Before you left, you took the time to survey around and get a solid look at the office interiors for the first time (since Akashi’s presence made it impossible for anyone to not pay attention to him).

It was ridiculously tidy, all the wooden furniture polished to the point where their mahogany varnishes shined. Books were meticulously ordered by alphabetical order and genres, and they looked like they were all dusted at every free chance. The rugs showcased simple circles, but the minimalism of them added to the office’s air of crisp cleanliness. The gray curtains gently framed the wide window behind Akashi’s desk. But what really caught your eye was a board of shogi and its pieces tucked away in a corner on a high shelf.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try knocking on Death’s door again.

. . .

Akashi’s shoe clicked on the floor as he opened the door. His steps continued to echo throughout the small room as he walked to his desk to start his work, that is, until he saw your note.

“Oh?” A grin snaked its way onto his face by the time he read the last line.

He severely underestimated you. You unexpectedly had tenacity.

No one has ever defied him repeatedly so openly before.

His expression put the notorious Cheshire cat to shame, his ulterior smile occupying half his face as his eyes widened in excitement equivalent to a predator.

Feeling pumped for the first time in a while, he decided to expend his energy on shogi. He carefully brought down the board and placed it onto his desk, going through the familiar motions of unpacking and setting up a game, before he froze.

There were various pencil doodles on each shogi piece. All of them were variants of :/ and :).

You were taking a jab at his personality as well as his mannerisms.

He barked an amused harsh laugh.

. . .

Day 5 Results: truth be told, you were too scared to see him face to face right after your double stunts; since you knew his schedules, you only came into the student council office when you knew he wasn’t inside.

---------

Day 6 of the Challenge.

Continuing to avoid him would already confirm to Akashi that you were actually shaken up by the high possibility of him retaliating, and you definitely weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

You went to class as always, and by break, you feigned innocence as you strolled into the council room, seeing Akashi leaning against the table.

“Good morning, Akashi.”

He nodded in acknowledgment before he gave a full, predatory smile, his pupils focused on you.

“To continue to fuel diligent work, it’s beneficial to recognize one’s efforts by giving gifts.”

What? Was he not going to bring up what you did yesterday?

He pulled out a single red rose and gracefully tilted it for you to take. You warily plucked it out of his hand.

In a different context, it would’ve been sweet or even romantic, but you knew Akashi ticked a different tune.

“I do hope that you will continue to stay and become even more efficient with your work.”

You gazed at the rose at your hand, confused, as Akashi started walking back out, heading for the door.

You gasped.

“... Did you overhear our conversations the other day in the hallway?”

He chuckled.

“I know the future, because I am absolute.”

“Bastard.” You clicked your tongue, turning to Akashi. “You knew the entire time?”

“Shogi is easily applied to every aspect of life. Move the correct pieces and you will always win.”

You turned back around to avoid letting Akashi see you in an embarrassed state. He played you like an absolute fiddle.

You scowled, and you were about to cross your arms in defiance until the sunlight from the window cascaded on something where your “note” used to be.

“Akashi, what’s that on your desk?” You tentatively walked up to the table to see a stainless glass vase with a single dark burgundy dahlia resting daintily against the inner rim.

His hand was on the doorknob before he turned back to face you.

“Dahliang,” his tone of voice light, almost mockingly saccharine. “Do be careful from now on.”

He left.

Day 6 Results: he completely destroyed you at your own game and sealed the final nail to your coffin with a pun.

---------

End Note: Black dahlias (which are actually dark burgundy in color) symbolize signs of warning, betrayal, and other negative emotions.

#knb #knb x reader #akashi x reader #akashi seijuro x reader #akashi seijuro #akashi scenarios #kuroko no basket #kotaro hayama #hayama kotarou #reo mibuchi #nebuya eikichi #rakuzan #knb scenarios #punfest series #bokushi #boku-akashi #ore-akashi

149 notes · View notes