#I wish I could lay claim to a one word name but I'm not nearly talented enough for that 😵‍💫 lmao. I crave simplicity...

[tpup]

ugh once again stuck on deciding a name to go by for porn adjacent purposes 🧍😓

[practically-an-x-man]

lol understandable! tell me about the Celtic AU first then pleeeeease! <3333

Oooooh you got it!!!

Here's the link to that AU idea one more time, and here's the original ask game that sparked it

(also I'm using the Gaeilge forms of their names to make it somewhere near historically-accurate, so Alex is Alsander and Madison is Maitín)

____

His skin still smoked in wake of the battle. The sun beat down on him, heavy upon his shoulders and scorching his already pink and blistered flesh. He had been wandering for some time now, leaving blood and burnt earth far behind him.

Alsander mag Shamhradháin was perhaps the strongest warrior since the time of Cú Chulainn, and held just as much of the sun's power beneath his skin.

But still he was human, and in battle he had overexerted himself.

As he wandered, he felt as though he had been scoured. Something within was now burnt, and every step brought him pain. He'd have given the world to find water or ice, something to cool the sun's radiance from where it cast flames within him.

Every battle was like this. It was not only his enemies that came and saw and conquered. Alsander was a dominating force, a near-god who brought the heat of battle into its most literal, though he felt more of himself crumble to ash with every time he spread his flames.

Exhausted, on the brink of collapse, he hardly noticed the river until he was ankle-deep in its frigid water. The far side of his mind, what remained that was still human, warned him of illness and water to the lungs. But that smoking, cracked husk, what was burnt and blackened from the flames, saw the water only as a temptation.

Alsander simply crumbled.

His consciousness lapsed, and he dreamed he saw a woman drifting through the icy depths. She seemed to be made of glass, some ethereal beauty nearly vanishing into the water around her, and her touch brought cooling relief as she stroked his blistered skin. Then came her lips, pressing breath into his lungs when he nearly drowned, her touch both giving and greedy.

He woke on the shores, cool water still lapping at his skin. What was scoured within him now felt cooled, tamed, brought into dormancy until at least the next battle. The sun above him had been shielded behind thick gray clouds, though no rain yet fell. Alsander felt cold, though cold as in the first snow of winter. It had been long since he'd felt anything but heat.

What he'd thought was the tide instead resolved itself into a human touch, chilly fingers walking gently across his bare chest. Alsander brought himself to wakefulness and found his glass-woman sitting above him.

"A burned man chooses to drown in my river," she murmured, "Yet he is the only thing that has let my river remain my own."

"Your river?" he echoed, still too entranced to find the words he wished to speak. She did not seem so glasslike in the light, not so invisible, but shapes like sunlit water danced across her skin. Her hair and eyes seemed like the surface of the river itself, a reflective gray that showed him his own visage.

"My river," she repeated again, "Having not been claimed by their Lympha or their Camenae. You scoured them before they could reach me. I thank you for that."

There came that word again. Scoured. The same scouring light that festered within him, the same light that had defended these borders and swept battalions into their fields of purgatory. She knew what lay deep in his chest, beyond his heart.

"Your name?" he asked, and sat up to find that his skin was clear and undamaged. If he could not still smell the smoke lingering high in the air, he'd have imagined the battle had never happened.

"Maitín Dubhghlas," she said, "Of the Abhainn na Sionainne. And yours?"

"Alsander mag Shamhradháin," he replied, "Of Lugh."

[delayed-affection]

Kiss me goodbye

Navigation Oneshots

Ethan Edwards x reader

Warnings: takes place near the end of sophomore year, pet name used like twice (Honey, Baby)

Word Count: 0.7k

When Ethan was drafted into the Devils it was the happiest you’ve ever seen him and yet he chose to stay and play at Michigan.

And you knew that one day he would have to leave to go fulfill his dream of being a hockey player but you never thought it would happen so soon.

Yet here you are, pacing in your dorm room wishing for time to stop. Ethan said that he would be stopping by before he had leave.

You’re honestly glad you didn’t have any classes today, unsure if you could even last the day without crying.

You’re fully aware that he’s not dying or anything, but you have two years left of school and you won’t be able finish it with him.

You stop pacing when there’s a knock on the door, opening it you Ethan on the side. He immediately pulls you into a hug.

"Sorry I’m late." he whispers into your ear, his voice cracking with emotion.

You can feel his body trembling against yours, and you know that he's been crying. You wrap your arms around him, offering the comfort he so desperately needs.

You guide him inside and close the door, leading him to your bed where you both sit down.

Sitting turns into laying and laying turns into cuddling.

You nuzzle your head into his chest, “I don’t want you to leave.”

He rubs your back, “I know, honey. But hey we’ll see each other in the summer.”

“That’s so far from now.” You whine

He chuckles finding you missing him cute, “It’s like three months from now.”

You pick your head up to look at him, “And when summers over?”

“Why not think about seeing me in the summer?” He questions

You put you head back on his chest, “Because I know we won’t be seeing each other after that.”

“Honey, Baby, look at me.” He tells you, “Do you know who I’m still going to be annoying the shit out of everyday?”

You give him a confused look.

“You. And do you know who I’m going to be texting before and after every game? Or calling when I can’t fall asleep?” He asks

“Me, I hope.” You joke

He kisses your forehead and laughs, “Exactly. Everything I do now, I’ll do when I’m out there. The only difference is that I’ll be blowing up your phone to the point that you’re sick of me.”

“Well I’ll be blowing your phone up as soon as you leave.” You claim

“When aren’t you blowing up my phone?” He teases

“I rarely do.” You argue

“My tiktok notifications say otherwise.”

~

The two of you now stand by the door knowing that he has leave.

He gives you a sad smiles and says, "I love you."

You don't say anything in return. But the hot tears begin to run down your face. He holds your face in his hands, looking at you. His eyes are glazed over.

"You can't cry cause then I’ll cry." he says sniffling.

He wipes away your tears, “And we both know I’m an ugly crier.”

You let out a choked laugh.

He wipes away a tear before it could fall, “Don’t laugh, not everyone was blessed to be a pretty crier.”

“Please you’re the prettiest person I know.” You quip

He smiles and shakes his head, “Thank you but you didn’t say I was the prettiest crier.”

You shrug, “It was implied.”

“It was implied.” He mocks

You smile at his childish behavior, “You’re a pretty crier.”

He gives you a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you but there’s no need to lie.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re so funny, Edwards.”

He gives you a smug look, “I know it’s one of my best traits.”

He looks at his watch, and you can see the time, it is nearly five.

He sighs, “I have to get going.”

“Take me with you.” You tell him

“I would if I could, baby.” He replies

You pull him into a tight hug, holding back tears, “Kiss me one last time before you go.”

His lips were so soft, so sweet, his touch was everything to you. Your body trembles, and your eyes begin to water over.

“I'm not sure what I’m going do without you.” you whisper

He leans in, kissing you softly, gently, before pulling away to look at you. You looked so beautiful. So beautiful yet so fragile.

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

Part 1

Check part one for warnings 💔

Part 2.

Namjoon stared at his mother, her words registering but not quite sinking in. He blinked, a couple of times and swallowed dryly, trying to gather his wits that felt like they'd been scattered to the four winds. There was a dull ringing in his ear, a feeling of impending horror and he had to fight to bring himself back to the present.

"She is...?" He couldn't even say it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised the irony of it. It wasn't supposed to makes him feel that way. The reason he had taken her to bed was for this : a heir to take over the duties of the head alpha after him. And yet, he knew that he couldn't just ignore all the things that would come with having a pregnant mate. All the added responsibility.

At the heart of it , Namjoon was exhausted.

He had been trained for this position but it didn't make it any easier. His wolf yearned for solitude and serenity, peaceful quiet where he could contemplate life and all its mysteries but the duties and responsibilities kept piling up. He had no time to indulge in such whimsical fantasies. From daybreak to sundown, he drowned in problems that demanded solutions, issues that required his intervention and he was always giving so much of himself to so many.

It was as taking a toll.

And now here was the promise of another new soul. A pup. Fully dependant on him for survival. It was hard to be ecstatic.

" Why do you look so surprised? Have you not been sleeping with her?" She frowned, moving closer to the small wooden bench in the corner of the room. She sat down, primly adjusting the large swathes of her skirt. Even at her age, she was a beauty and despite being a widow, she was treated with great respect by all the wolves in the clan.

" I have... Of course...I just didn't expect her to ...so soon. " He muttered hesitantly. He made a quick calculation, Conceived at the end of autumn meant the child would be born at the end of summer. Rains and more rains. He would have to commission the weavers to make a lot of warm blankets and thick bedding for the babe. And make sure that all the birthing huts had their roofs mended. He felt an ache in his chest. He knew he had to have a heir. It was part of what he was responsible for. But he wasn't ready to be a father yet. Especially not with someone like her.

" You haven't been very subtle in your disdain for her, Joon. It makes me wonder of perhaps I have failed in teaching you the ways of a husband." His mother's sharp voice made him wince.

His parents had been deeply in love with each other. His mother had been an equal contributor in running the clan, his father's most trusted confidante. He couldn't imagine having something like that with the woman he had rather recklessly chained himself to for life. But he couldn't be openly defiant in front of his mother.

So he bowed.

" I've tried to talk to her mother. She looks at me like I'm some marauding villain."

Lady Kim scoffed.

" Because, for all she knows, you may as well be one. Think of who she is, how she was raised. Her mother died when she was eight and she has been keeping house for her father since then. It Is a miracle she knows how to read a few words and to write her own name. Old man Gong is unkind and cruel and I've only ever watched him treat her like an unruly dog that needed discipline and never like his own flesh and blood. She knows men to be cruel and powerful and capable of doing her great harm. Add to it your status as the head of the clan, of course she thinks you're dangerous. "

" am I to be blamed for her childhood now?"

" Don't be obtuse. That is not what I'm saying. I just want you to consider her upbringing, before you write her off as dramatic or hysterical. "

Namjoon sighed deeply.

" Alright, mother. I'll try to talk to her again. "

And he knew that he had to. If he wanted some semblance of peace in his life, he would have to make an effort with his wife.

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

Jiah sat by the haybale near the barn, cross-legged on the dirty floor as she watched Misu and Loshim, two of the stable boys tend to the horses. She stared at the careful way they brushed the large beasts, their tone gentle and soothing as they murmured reassurance to the agitated animals. She found it fascinating, how even an animal that powerful could feel fear and anxiety. It made her feel better about her own shortcomings.

From a very young age, she had known of her flaws. She was jittery, prone to cold sweats and breathing problems, easily frightened and absolutely terrified of confrontation of any kind. Her parents had been, to put it lightly, unkind. They had seen her as a burden, as something broken and useless and cumbersome and that had done nothing for her self esteem.

To make matters worse, they didn't let her attend lessons with the other omega girls, her education limited to scribbled writing on granite with chalk when her father was feeling bored or charitable. She could read a few words with difficulty . Could write her name out if you gave her some time and patience.

At first, her ignorance had been embarassing but over time she realised her education wouldn't serve her much purpose.

She thought of herself as something temporary and fleeting. Not meant to leave any lasting impression on the world. So it was alright if she didn't know what every other girl her age did. She was going to live and die in that hut near the boundary walls..... She would have no use for fancy words or exotic dances.

Or so she hd always believed.

So when the head alpha had asked for her hand in marriage, she had nearly passed out from her heart giving out.

Namjoon was seven years older, almost thirty winters old and she had only ever caught glimpses of him when he came to check on her father's watchpost occasionally. He was a tall man, strapping and intimidating with dragon eyes that glowed red. And one evening he had stopped by her side when she had been tending the beets and potatoes in the small vegetable garden out back.

He had stared at her for a few long minutes while she had sweated in nervousness and then he had promptly asked for her father. When the man had Stepped in and told her father that he was looking to make her his bride, the old man had been jubilant while Jiah had been confounded.

She hadn't wanted to say yes but she had been too much of a coward to say no. Besides, she didn't know if saying no would have any repurcussions....she didn't want to risk offending the literal head of the entire clan. What if they banished her? What would become of her then?

And so she had said yes. And here she was.

Mated to the man for life, her wolf connected to his and his mark on her neck and now....his child in her womb.

She felt the familiar stirring of panic, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself .

Jiah had long come to terms with the fact that her mind was not her friend. It sometimes tried to attack her , tried to make her feel irrational things. It convinced her that she was a bother, that she was useless, that she was a burden. It also tried to tell her that she was in danger, that she had to run and avoid and get away, even when she was perfectly safe.

When she had first come here as the head Alphas new wife, her brain had wrecked havoc on her senses. Had made her feel like a hunted animal, always cowering and hiding and trying to disappear . Namjoon had tried to be friendly, tried to be courteous and all she had done was hide and recoil, skin ice cold and words practically non existent. She hadn't said a word to him those first few days and even the bedding had been a nightmare, her entire body stiff as a board and she knew that he had probably felt like he was making love to a corpse.

She regretted it. Deeply. But there was not much she could do about it now. Besides she wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was obvious her husband's affections lay elsewhere. She had seen the way he looked at that courtesan. Had seen him sneak out for walks with her, had seen them huddled together in the room with all the scrolls and leather bound books.

Jisoo was a beautiful omega, well read and trained in musical arts. She played the gayageum and the flute, knew how to entertain guests with a perfect ceremonial dance and she was always at the helm of every festivity, dressed in vibrant fabrics and full of life.

She was also madly in love with Namjoon.

Jiah sighed, watching the horses paw at the dirty stable floor. She wanted to get to know her husband, yes. But she knew that even if she did, he would only find her wanting and inadequate in all ways.

And that was just not acceptable .

She maybe self aware when it came to her short comings but she also had her pride.

She would rather live like this. Tucked away like an embarassment, hidden like a dirty secret because then there would be no piercing gaze weighing her against her peers and declaring her broken.

Yes.

Pregnant or not, she wanted nothing to do with her husband.

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

" Are you feeling well now?" Namjoon's voice startled her, eyes going wide as she looked around the resting quarters , gaze finally falling on the man standing near the large table on the side. Namjoon was bent over the rough oak surface , papers spread out in front of him, an oil lamp burning bright nearby, casting a sepia shadow on the man himself and she hesitated, debating the pros and cons of excusing herself to go see his mother instead. Maybe claiming a headache?

In the end she did neither, resolving to at least make an effort with this.

" I'm well, alpha. " She swallowed the lump in her throat. " I'm sorry for inconveniencing you. "

He straightened, turning around to look at her finally.

" Do you wish to move into another room?" He said briskly and she startled.

" Another room?"

" Now that you are with pup, there's no reason for us to keep sleeping together. I prefer having my own space. "

Jiah felt the blood rush through her ears. This shouldn't hurt but it did and she could feel the self loathing flood her senses. She stared down at herself, the lack of beauty and the utter lack of any kind of elegant upbringing. Of course he didn't want to stay with her any longer. What had she been thinking , agreeing to this farce of a mating?

" I... Alright. "

Namjoon turned away from her.

" Good. I've already arranged for all your things to be moved to the west wing , next to the gardens."

Far away from his rooms, Jiah thought bitterly. The sudden realization that Namjoon had been looking for some sort of brood mare and not a mate hit her . And it suddenly made sense that he hd picked her.

Someone easy to boss around.

Someone who wouldn't demand anything from him, loyalty or affection or attention .

And it irked her for some reason.

Why did he get to treat her that way? Why must she put up with it?

But she stayed quiet because she wasn't sure what to say.

" You can leave now, Jiah. " He said dismissively and she hesitated before stepping out of the room.

And she wondered if with her departure, someone else would be taking her place in his bed.

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

Authors Note : would you guys like first person narrative or should I continue in third person? 👀

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter 6

ok, I know it's been a while. I'm sorry for the long time in between posts. I'm working on several stories at once, or at least trying to, while also trying to get accustomed to a promotion and new job responsibilities at work. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me. I really appreciate you all. My work is no to be reposted anywhere without my permission.

Pairing: Poe Dameron X Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Violence, panic, Poe being soft, Bryce being a dick. I think we can just assume that will be a permanent tag.

Series Master List

Chapter Five

You try to sit up with a strangled scream, but you end up bouncing your head off the plastic dome monitoring your vitals.

“Hey, it’s okay.” A voice to your left says. The voice is… familiar, but it’s not the one you really wanted to hear. But at the same time, you’re grateful you don’t hear that voice.

You roll your head to see Bryce, your boyfriend. He’s your boyfriend. He won’t hurt you. You can relax.

Why aren’t you relaxing?

“You’re safe now. Back home where you belong.” He says gently, reaching for your hand. You flinch away and he frowns, pausing.

“S-sorry.” You rasp, closing your eyes.

“It’s cool.” He lifts the dome and moves to get your clothes at the foot of the table. “Come on. Get dressed, we’ll get you something to eat.” He says, setting them next to you.

You try to speak again, but your voice is just as rough, only this time you don’t know if it’s from being quiet for so long, or the raw emotions destroying you. You clear your throat painfully. “H-how’s Poe?” You ask, nearly stuttering over his name.

“Dameron is fine. Been annoying all the women ever since he got back.” Bryce rolls his eyes. He doesn’t catch the way you shrink in on yourself as you sit up.

So, Poe doesn’t...want to...see you. The words struggle in your mind. He’s… he’s probably trying to forget what you did to him. No wonder he doesn’t want to see you.

“Can you step outside so I can get dressed?” You ask quietly.

“Babe, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” He says and you lower your head. “Fine. Just, don’t take too long. I’m starving.” He says, walking out and shutting the door loudly behind you. You jump at the sudden snap of it and squeeze your eyes shut.

You can’t handle the commissary right now. It’s always packed full of people, loud, claustrophobic. You carefully get dressed, trying not to notice all the new marks on your body. You’re careful of the fresh stitches covering your arms, legs, stomach, and back. Careful not to pull the bandages holding you together.

You’re dressed faster than you want to be, stepping carefully out of the room. It still doesn’t feel safe, it feels like you should be hiding. You tug the long sleeves down further, wishing you had more to cover you.

“Come on.” He slings his arm around your shoulders and you tense as the weight settles on you. “I missed you.” He says softly, but you don’t feel comforted by his words. They turn to ice in your veins. He practically has to drag you along, your nerves stretching and spiking with each step, with every noise.

“I-I’m not hungry.” You protest, trying to dig your heels in. You can hear the loud room from here.

“Y/N, you have to eat.” He says firmly.

“N-n—“ you stammer, trying to push away from him. He sighs and scoops you up over his shoulder, carrying you along easily. Pain flares through you as your stitches pull. He’s not careful with you. Either he doesn’t know, or he doesn’t care. You try to struggle, you don’t care if he drops you. At least then you could get away.

“Y/N, I swear to the Maker, stop struggling. These are your friends. They want to know you’re okay.”

“What if I’m not?” You snap, the fear boiling over. You want to go to your room. You want to hide. You want to be alone. You want Poe.

He stops and considers for a minute before continuing on. “You can’t hide forever, Y/N.”

“Bryce, please, please!”

He walks inside and sets you down none too gently in a chair at a table full of people. “Look who’s finally awake.” He says loudly. Your teeth jar, biting down on your tongue from the abrupt impact.

There are five whole heartbeats where everyone is just staring at you. Something claws its way up your throat in the eerie silence, and then everything just explodes.

Voices, chairs moving, hands touching you, patting you on the shoulder, or touching your leg. The lights get too bright, you can’t see anything. You feel like they’re all climbing on top of you, too much weight. You can’t breathe. You try to suck in a breath, but it’s like your lungs won’t expand.

You bolt.

You’re not proud of it, but you shove through all the people and fly for the door. Blind twists and turns down hallways you don’t remember seeing, and couldn’t remember in the moment. You can barely hear your name being shouted behind you, but you can’t stop, can’t look back. You just know you’ve ripped stitches in your thighs, and stomach. You don’t care. Your only thought is escape. Hyper flight mode.

A hand grabs you from the darkness, pulling you in and pinning you against the wall. You fight, slapping and hitting against your assailant as you sob, gasping raggedly.

“Y/N! It’s me, stop it!!” Poe shouts, grabbing your wrists. “It’s Poe, it’s me. Stop.” He says, holding your hands against his chest until you stop fighting him.

You think you gasp his name, your legs give out on you and you sink to your knees in front of him, sobbing. He doesn’t let go of your wrists, just loosens his grip. Relief washes through you as you realize who it is.

“Breathe. Just breathe. Big, slow breaths for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, slowly kneeling in front of you.

“P-Poe—“

“I know. Sh, it’s okay. I’m right here.” He wraps his arms around you tightly, hugging you to him.

He shouldn’t be doing this for you, not after everything you put him through. Guilt roils through you, choking off your air. You start to pull away but he doesn’t let go. His fingers braid in your disheveled hair and you can’t help but sink into him a little more.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I wanted to be.” He exhales in a rush, burying his face in your hair.

“Why—why would you want that?” You hiccup, keeping your face away from him.

“Because you’re my best friend? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be there?”

“B-because,” you try taking a deep breath.

He seems to realize that you’re shivering on the cold ground. “Let’s get out of here. Do you wanna go back to medbay or your room?” He asks, easing you out of his arms and standing up.

You hesitate, suddenly not knowing how to ask him to stay. It’s selfish, you know it is, after everything you’ve put him through, to want him to suffer even longer.

“I don’t think I was actually discharged.” You mumble, pulling yourself to your feet on your own. It’s a massive effort.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat and steps to the door. He looks up and down the hallway before looking back at you. “It’s all clear.”

“I don’t even know what part of the complex I’m in.” You admit, dropping your head back. In the forest, you knew exactly where to go. But on a planet you’ve called home for how long? You’re lost.

Useless.

“Okay. Come on.” He holds out his hand and you’re so tempted to take it. But you don’t. Instead, you walk to the door with him and carefully slip out without touching him. You’ve done enough damage.

He follows after a small minute and leads you down the hallway. “You never answered my question.” He starts suddenly and you look up at him. His face has too many cuts, a deep bruise under his eye, a split lip. It hurts you to look at him. More guilt.

It’s your fault.

You could pretend to be ignorant. Not remember the question to stall for time. Claim sudden hearing loss. But you never could lie to him, and you don’t want to start now. You know exactly what question.

“I didn’t think you would want to be there. Not when this whole thing is my fa-fault.” You mumble, your voice cracking on the last word. You hate yourself for putting him through this. You hate yourself for feeling like a damsel in distress and not being able to fight back the way you should have.

He stops walking and stares at you. His forehead crinkled in confusion.

“You think—“ he starts, his voice incredulous, but is promptly cut off by a medical droid beeping angrily at you.

“Yeah, got it. Back to bed.” You mumble, taking one last look at a stunned Poe before following the droid the rest of the way.

The droid gets you back into a medical bed, looking almost as if it wants to restrain you to keep you there. You clutch your hands to your chest, not wanting to be restrained.

“I won’t go anywhere.” You promise. The droid beeps and rolls away, the door sliding shut behind it. You cross your legs and lay back, wincing at the pull in your ribs. On the list of things that hurt, the ribs are kind of low. But they’re drawing the most attention at the moment. The droid comes back after a moment, making quick work of fixing your stitches, hopefully for the last time. It rolls away and you’re left in agonizing silence. You stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks.

The door opens again and Leia walks in. You freeze, wondering what she could possibly want from you. Poe’s words flash through your mind. Do you think Leia is sobbing uncontrollably right now? She certainly looks tired, but not necessarily like she was heartbroken that you were gone for… for… you can’t remember how long you were in that place. You break out into a sweat. What else have you forgotten?

“Y/N,” she starts solemnly. “I’m so glad you’re back with us and awake.” She sits on the edge of your bed and you don’t know if this is protocol or not. Is it normal? You don’t say anything, you simply wait for her to continue, she’ll get to her point eventually. “Poe told me about what happened, I’d like your report as well, whenever you feel up to it. I know you must still be exhausted.” She says.

So, all business.

She probably didn’t even notice you weren’t there.

You nod once. You can be all business, too. “I’ll have it for you by tomorrow.” You say and she blinks.

“I didn’t mean—“

“You need it. You’ll have it.”

“Poe told me you were incredibly brave.” She says, watching your face as she speaks. She’s clearly looking for something.

“He—“ you cut off. You had been about to say that he exaggerates, or was lying. But then she would think that she can’t trust her most loyal commander. She slowly arches an eyebrow as you struggle to think. “He’s too kind. I was terrified. Did more harm than good.”

“Hmm. Well, in any case. I know you’re still healing. Bacta is useful, but it can’t heal everything overnight. Get some rest.” She stands up. “And,” she pauses and turns back to you. “If you need to talk, about anything at all, I’m here to listen.” She says pointedly. You nod once and she heads for the door, stopping only long enough for it to hiss open.

You slump back against the pillows, gritting your teeth against the sudden pain. It’s odd how sometimes you don’t feel it at all, and other times it’s all you can feel. You feel like you’ve been going nonstop for days and days. You need to think, to rest. You need to stand up to Bryce next time. You’re not just a scientist, you’re a damn good pilot-only second to Poe, and you’re one of the best shots on base. He can’t just push you around like he did.

You need to think, sort out what was real and what was panic. You close your eyes and try to hold as still as possible. The faces are the faces of your friends, this isn’t some First Order trick. They aren’t trying to hurt you.

But… then… Why was Poe shouting when he got off the ship? Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Maybe you really are losing your mind.

The door hisses open and you jerk upright, instantly grabbing your side. Bryce tosses his jacket onto the chair next to your bed and crosses his arms, turning slowly to glare at you.

“Was that fun for you? You made me look like an idiot out there.” He snaps and you want to hurl something heavy at his head.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m tired.” You say, wishing there was a more final way to say that, like shutting a door in his face.

“You just slept for three days!” He shouts, throwing his hands up.

“Get. Out!” You shove yourself off your bed, ignoring the screaming pain in your ribs and back. “Get the fucking fuck out! I told you I wasn’t kriffing ready but you didn’t fucking listen. You never fucking listen! I just want some peace. Maker!” You shove him backwards through the door, bouncing it off its track. You feel the pop in your wrist, burning hot pain flares up your arm. “For once in your life, try to see things from someone else’s perspective.” You snap, going back into your room.

“Whoa, hey. I’m sorry, okay?”

You pick up the heavy decoration on the side table and throw it as hard as you can. If he hadn’t moved his stupidly perfect head, it would have hit him right in the face. Unfortunately, he does move and it crashes into the floor behind him, breaking into pieces. Good, more ammo for next time.

“I don’t want to hear your apologies! I want. To be. Alone!”

He holds up his hands and backs down the hallway. You walk around to the other side of the bed, sinking to the floor so that no one will see you. Your hands are trembling as you try to breathe. Your sides begin to ache for another reason altogether, and you realize you aren’t even breathing because you’re trying not to cry.

You let out a ragged gasp, covering your face in humiliation. Rocking forward, you rest your face on the ground, letting yourself hurt with every silent sob. You deserve all the pain. A curious beep reaches your ears and you cover your mouth, forcing yourself to keep quiet. You know, somewhere in the back of your mind, you need to get your new injuries checked out. You definitely did damage to your wrist. You feel a droid roll to a stop next to you, but you're not under control yet.

They beep softly again and nudge you with their big round base. You lift your head to see the familiar orange and white pattern of Poe’s droid, BB8. He rotates his lens up to look at you, and somehow, despite being metal and made of parts, he shows sympathy, worry, concern. He wants to know if you’re okay, if his friend is okay. Your vision goes blurry as your eyes flood with tears all over and he rolls forward, nestling right against your chest. You grip his headpiece, lowering your forehead against it and resting there, shoulders shaking and stomach cramping from the uncomfortable position. But you can’t bring yourself to move just yet.

***

Your head slips to the side and you jerk up, hitting your head against the edge of your bed. BB8 looks up at you, bless his circuit board. He would have stayed there with you for hours if you hadn’t woken yourself up. You wipe your tears and drool off his head.

“Sorry, buddy.” You whisper, voice not wanting to go higher than that. “You should get back to Poe. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

His head tilts, question unasked in the quiet air.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you, for checking on me, I mean.”

He beeps a rapid-fire and rolls away in search of his master, or is friend a better description at this point? You twist, pulling yourself up and seeing Bryce sitting on the floor in the hallway. His eyes are closed as he rests his head against the wall.

With a sigh, you page for a med droid to come in and check on you. You lay back on your bed, closing your eyes while you wait. You didn’t mean to fall asleep on the poor droid.

Your wrist is checked out and bound. Already on the edge of breaking, shoving your stupid boyfriend pushed it over the edge. The droid tsks about not getting it taken care of right away before wheeling away.

“Can I come in now?” Bryce asks from the hallway.

“No. I’m still mad.” You reply, rolling over. It’s cool in here, settling in your bones in an unfamiliar way. You reach towards the end of the bed for a blanket before you realize there isn’t one there. With a huff, you get up and look around for one with no success.

“What are you looking for?” He asks, pushing himself up with a quiet grunt.

“A blanket. I’m freezing.” You reply, digging through the supply locker in the room.

“I’ll go get you one.” He turns around and disappears, leaving you to settle back down. You can hear those familiar beeps coming down the hallway and that voice you’ve come to depend on since you were taken follows it.

“Yeah, buddy, I know. Always rubbing it in.” Poe sighs.

Bryce comes back, spreading a heavy blanket over you before stepping back awkwardly. “Thanks. I’m sure you have something you need to be doing, Bryce. I’ll be here.” You say, more gently this time and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll come see you after my shift. We’ll talk then and you can yell at me all you want, okay?” He promises.

You nod, laying your head down on the pillow as he leaves. You can see his shoulders tense as he sees Poe coming towards him. You can hear the little droid beeping in outrage but Poe shushes him.

“Is she awake?” He asks.

“She’s resting. You shouldn’t be here, anyway. Haven’t you done enough, Dameron?” Bryce snaps.

What? No. He’s not to blame! You are!

“Bryce. Go to work.” You call and he looks over his shoulder at you, unable to get rid of the coldness completely before he turns on his heel and storms off.

Poe waits until he can’t see him anymore before coming into your room. “Hi.” He says after a minute and your lips twitch.

“Hi.”

“Have a good nap?” He asks as BB8 chirps next to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep him here for so long.” You mumble.

Poe snorts. “He’s not sorry, bragged about it for at least ten minutes.” He rolls his eyes and you scoot over on the bed carefully. He eases himself down and takes your newly bandaged hand. “What happened?” He asks with a frown.

“I wasn’t careful. Typical me.” You scoff derisively.

He’s quiet for a long time, his handsome face going through a wide range of emotions as he traces the outline of your fingers. The feeling of it is relaxing, soothing you. Everything about him is comforting, just like he’s always been. Even though you don’t deserve his compassion, his forgiveness.

“Poe,” you start, capturing his hand, even though you could conceivably let him keep doing that forever.

“I have so many things I want to say to you.” He starts, his voice crumpled.

You take a deep breath and nod, steeling yourself for the inevitable. It’s going to hurt, it will break your heart, but he should say it. Tell you he hates you for kissing him, for distracting him, for getting him caught, and all the terrible things that came after it.

“You sa-said before that this is all your fault.” He starts, his eyes very firmly on your hands wrapped around his.

“Because it is.” You answer and his beautiful brown eyes squeeze shut.

“How can you even think that?” His voice cracks and you’ve never seen him so close to tears before. This is the man that’s perpetually in a good mood, everything is an opportunity to make you laugh. Even in the face of certain harm, he’s making jokes.

“Poe, I distracted you. I—“ you glance at the door to look for potential eavesdroppers. “In the river, I ki—“

He covers your mouth softly. You could easily pull his hand away, but you don’t. “We were on a planet where the most dangerous thing was supposed to be a giant butterfly. There was no way to know, no indication of anyone else being on the planet. You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” He says. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, but you can’t stop the feeling that he’s wrong. You did everything wrong. “And… we don’t have to… to talk about that thing in the river… if you don’t want to.” He stammers, scratching at the back of his neck.

You want to. You want to do it again. But you can’t. Your fingers flex in his before pulling them back against your torso, cutting off all touch with his warm body.

“Leia came to see me earlier.” You change the subject without giving him an answer. You’re not ready to close the book yet, but you can’t open it yet, either.

“Yeah. I gave my debrief.” He says, sounding a little deflated.

“You lied.” You correct and his head snaps up.

“What?”

“You told her I was brave. That was a big, fat lie.” You say and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re impossible.” He takes your hand again. His touch is feather-light, soft, and delicate as he strokes the back of your hand, following the length of your fingers.

“I don’t think she cried.” You say suddenly and he looks up at you.

“Come again?”

“You asked if I thought Leia sobbed uncontrollably while we were gone. I don’t think she even got a stuffy nose.” Your voice turns dark, your secret angry thought slipping out before you can stop it.

“You think she didn’t care?” Poe asks.

“Did you find out how long we were gone?”

“Yeah. Three weeks.” He says, practically choking on it.

“Two weeks over what we were supposed to be gone. You don’t think that’s odd? She didn’t send anyone after her best pilot?”

“Y/N, she has a lot of different responsibilities, to more than just us. We had no contact with anyone prior. How would they have found us? They didn’t have our information yet. They would have been just as lost as we were.” He reasons.

“Ground exploration on a new planet should have more than two people. No matter how good one of them is.” You pull your hand back, angry now.

You don’t want to be angry, not with Poe, of all people. But you can’t stop yourself. He’s rolling over and playing lapdog for his perfect princess, same as he always does. Your cheeks burn with anger.

Hurt crosses his face, his hands suspended where they were. “Both. She sent two of her best people. She sent you, and me because we work so well together. Because we could get it done much faster, quieter, better than anyone else on this base.” He says and your heart wavers.

You don’t want to cause him any more pain. You take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I think I just need sleep.” The words sound stiff, forced.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“No. I’m just gonna catch a few hours and then get to work on the report for Leia.”

“No, I already did that.” He corrects.

“She asked me for one.”

“I debriefed so you wouldn’t have to go through it again.” He clenches his hands. “I’ll take care of it.” He promises.

“I don’t mind. It might give her a better idea of what a rotten liar you are.” You say, trying to joke.

“I didn’t lie.” He huffs, leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. “I’ll leave BB8 with you if you need anything. Come find me when you wake up?”

“Promise.” Your voice cracks at just the wrong moment and he stills, looking down at you.

“I can stay. Just like in the cave.” He offers.

“Go away.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and stands up. “What happened to the door?” He asks.

“I shoved Bryce through it.” You admit and he breaks out into a grin.

“That’s my girl.” He praises before walking through it.

You have to stop yourself from calling him back, from begging him to stay with you. It’s not that you don’t trust anyone else here, they are your friends. But, Poe would understand. He knows what you went through, he understands what it was like. He won’t judge you for being upset. When you lost your temper with him just now, he didn’t get mad, he talked you down.

No, Poe Dameron understands better than anyone what emotions you’re going through right now. He goes through them on a daily basis and has for a long time.

***

You can’t look at him. Every time you do, another wave of guilt threatens to drown you. You kissed him. You kissed him. You have a boyfriend back home, missing you and you went and kissed your best friend. And worse, got said best friend captured by the enemy.

Now, he’s furious with you. Hasn’t said a word in hours. You can’t remember the last thing he said. Did he shush you? Was it your name? You can’t remember. Tears blur your vision as you try to twist your face away from him.

“Shit. Y/N,” he starts. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll get us out of this.” He promises.

And just the fact that he thinks that’s what you’re upset about is blindingly frustrating. And that he feels the need to fix your fuck up.

“Why don’t they just kill us?” You ask, forcing the tears not to fall.

“They probably want information on the Resistance.” He clenches his jaw. “Y/N, I never wanted to have to say this to you, but no matter what they do to you, you can’t talk. You can’t tell them anything.” He pleads.

You nod. “Okay. I won’t say anything.” You promise weakly. The idea of being tortured is so out of your realm, you don’t know what to expect. But Poe seems to know something at the very least.

He curses again and you look back at his face. “I promise. I promise I’ll get us out of this.” He thrashes against the metal restraints on the upright table and you worry he’s going to hurt himself.

“I’ll be okay, Poe.” You whisper, but he squeezes his eyes shut.

The door behind you opens and a StormTrooper walks in. You can’t tell if it’s one of the same ones from the forest, but it doesn’t matter. This one is carrying a tray with a cloth covering it.

“Ready to begin?” He asks, voice modulated to fit your nightmares. “Where is your base of rebel scum?” He asks, slowly removing the cloth and picking up a thin blade. He turns towards Poe, sliding the knife under the silver chain around your partner’s neck. His mother’s ring, beautiful as it glints in the light, slowly rotates into view. Poe struggles slightly, giving his restraints another hard yank, but he gets nowhere. The stormtrooper curls his fingers around it, tugging and popping the chain free. He tosses it into the dank corner and it disappears from view. Poe snarls until the trooper lifts the glittering knife again and turns his helmet towards you. You can feel him studying you, sizing you up.

“I said, where is your base of rebel scum?”

Poe looks over at you, and you can see the worry in his eyes. Will he start with you? Or with Poe? When neither of you answers, he turns and slashes out at your best friend. You cry out, thinking he cut his throat, but instead, there’s a small cut on his cheekbone.

“I haven’t got anywhere to be. Let’s begin again.” He says evenly and your stomach clenches uncomfortably.

***

You sit up with a ragged gasp, clutching at your face. Blindly, you find the medical droid and sign yourself out, grabbing the blanket and heading through the halls for the one person you want to see. BB8 rolls after you, chirping quietly. You feel for the chain in your pocket, the weight of it is comforting.

You knock quietly on the door. It’s so late, you shouldn’t be here. The door slides open and he's there in front of you, exhausted and very much alive. He holds out his arms and you step easily into them, heartbeat finally settling.

Poe.

He walks you back inside and lays down on his bed without a single word. No teasing, no jokes. Just him being there for you like always. You wait until he’s comfortable before crawling into bed next to him and laying down, your head resting against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“Sh. Go to sleep. I’m here.” He says gently, his big, warm hands rubbing your back.

Chapter 7

Everything Tag List:

@everythingisoverrated @psyched2b @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @elliee1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @scarlettwitcher @thirstybitchqueen @stuckonjbbarnes @barnesandco @geeksareunique @nicoleplacee @lexshead @gambitsqueen @lokisironthrone @imanuglywombat @also-fangirlinsweden @ravenesque @murdermornings @countryrockmama @starbuckie @kato-ptris @mandos-crest

Star Wars Tag List:

@bookishofalder @doctor-warthrop @acrossthesestars @waterpancakeao3 @generousrunawaydonut @eclipsedplanet @general-latino @marvelobsessiononastick @itsdameron @mads-weasley

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Lover of Mine #5.5 | Angel Reyes.

Series Masterlist | join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

title: For Better, or For Worse.

rating: 💙 💔

As long as you're feeling the same, I'll follow you into the flames

sum: angel fears once it's out, his secret will be the final push you need to leave. instead of confessing, he sticks out the couple's retreat to give himself a few more days with you. he makes himself a promise: he'll tell you once you two return to santo padre. but a ghost from his past pushes angel's agenda forward a few days.

words: the standard for this series....long af (that's why I break it into sections so you know where to come back to when you take a break...but seriously, please take breaks on these long ass chapters)

Ez Reyes is a smart man. There is no denying it. However, Ez never thought he would struggle to tie a tie.

He is currently outside of his father’s truck. Kneeling before his nephew, Ez concentrates as he works through the instructions he Youtube’d earlier. A usually chatty Jeyson has been silent. He slept the entire hour's drive to school. When his Uncle woke him, Jeyson shot Ez a glare that reminded him of you.

Jeyson was fine the entire weekend that you were gone, but the moment he woke up this Monday to find you had not returned his entire mood changed. He has fought Ez tooth and nail the entire morning.

Ez glances up from the tie to Jeyson. “Hey, you sure you wanna go to school today?”

“I have to go to school” Jeyson mumbles.

“Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to take a break.” Ez offers Jeyson a smile. “If you’re not having a good day, it’s okay to stay home.”

“I don’t want to stay home with you.”

“That’s okay,” Ez chuckles. “What about Izzy?”

“I don’t want to stay home with her either.” Jeyson releases a huff before glancing down at his now fixed tie. He bends down to pick up his backpack. Slipping it onto his shoulder, Jeyson steps around his Uncle. “I want my mom to come home.”

Tommy’s gaze remains on the sleeve of his blue Stockton uniform. His fingers tug at the loose string resting against his wrist. He ignores the smirk on his older brother’s face. The passing of time has muddled the bruises on Tommy’s skin. The mixture of black and yellow stood out on the parts of him he's allowed to remain visible. No matter how he sits, the pain in his ribs is inescapable. Sleep has fallen to the way-side, the inability to get comfortable meaning he only gets it once he’s passed out from exhaustion.

“You didn’t tell me she was hot. Now I know why you were sticking up for her the other day--”

“I didn’t notice. I’m more worried about her getting me out of here.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo’s eyes roll as he watches his brother’s eyes pass over the crowded visiting center. “I’m just saying—”

“What’d you find?” Tommy’s fingers massage his temple, the irritation in his voice amplified by his brother’s antics. Lack of sleep and around-the-clock oversight and antics from Rogers has cut his fuse short. “If you didn’t find anything, you could've saved yourself a trip up here—and I could be asleep.”

“She’s not married—unless she has a habit of leaving her rings at home.”

“What? On the table?”

Leo shakes his head. “No. A jewelry box in the bedroom.”

“What about the kid?” “He has to be about eight, or nine? Name’s Jeyson. You were right, he’s definitely Angel’s. Wish I could show you the picture. He couldn’t deny that kid if he tried.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods impatiently, motioning for him to continue. “What else?”

“Kid goes to some boujee ass prep school up north. Gilman something? Embroidered blazers, ties, the whole nine. His mom’s paying a pretty penny too, apparently, it's the best in the state. He’s into the typical shit kids are into. Star Wars, Spider-Man. Plays the piano, apparently, he’s actually really fucking good. Awards and all. His mom’s got him pretty busy. A lot of after-school activities. Looks like she and Angel rotate transportation...She must not be around right now tho.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Apart from the fact you’re still not transported to a new unit?” Leo scoffs. “The kid was with someone else when I was scouting. A girl and a kid with a prospect patch.”

“Mayans?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe his little brother...last I heard he was hemmed up here. Haven’t seen him around tho.”

“Maybe he got out?”

Tommy dismisses Leo’s suggestion. “Most cop killers don’t walk free. What else?”

“He’s not doing a good job of keeping his nephew safe. I talked to the kid.”

Tommy’s eyes open. “You did what?”

“He walked right off with me.” Leo quietly explains. He mistakes his brother’s silence as a cue to move forward with his story. “His uncle was so into his date he didn’t even notice the kid walk off with me--”

The sight of Tommy’s hand running down his face tapers the rest of Leo’s statement.

His voice comes out low, through his clenched teeth. “I didn’t tell you to touch the kid.”

“I didn’t touch the kid,” Leo’s eyes rolled. “I got him a funnel cake—” “I don’t give a fuck—” the slamming of Tommy’s fist against the table brings the room to a brief silence. The eyes that he has attracted linger on Tommy as his glare nearly burns a hole through his brother. Rogers shrugs off the wall nearby. He takes a step of warning in Tommy’s direction. “—what you did, Leo—it was stupid.”

“How else was I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

Tommy’s response comes out slowly. Each passing word increases his irritation.

“You didn’t need him to talk to you because I didn’t ask you to talk to him. Buying him a funnel cake, or whatever the fuck your grand plan was allowed the kid to see your face. He can open up his mouth and ID you—”

“ID me,” Leo snorts, dismissing Tommy’s claim. “Relax, Tommy. He’s not a state witness, he’s a kid—“

“Yeah, and according to you and his 'boujee ass prep school,' he’s a smart ass fucking kid, Leo.” Tommy lets out a long sigh. “The last thing I need is the kid opening his mouth to his mom about some random guy approaching him.”

“Don’t worry, I played it cool. Told him I was a friend of his dad. Maybe, if you had told me exactly why I went there I wouldn’t—”

It was something Tommy had explained to his brother during their last visit. The less you know, the better.

“I already told you,” Tommy rubs at his temple, the sudden throbbing causing his jaw to clench. “I needed to double-check something.”

“And that’s what I did.” Leo sighs. “What I want to know is, why the fuck you called me all the way down here to check pictures in some house.”

Tommy studies his brother for a moment. He shifts forward, his elbows settling against the table.

“You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? You don’t think, Leo. I ask you to do one thing—one fucking thing—and you almost fuck it up. If I wanted you to think I wouldn’t have told you exactly what to do.” Leo’s jaw tightens as his brother continues. “You trying to think leads to you doing dumb shit like kidnapping her fucking son—”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Leo mumbles.

Tommy’s fingers massage his clenched fist. “You’re lucky I can’t reach across this fucking table right now.”

Leo’s gaze drops from his brothers. The look that lies in Tommy’s eyes is one he’s seen before—at least not directed at him. It’s the look that accompanied the acts that earned Tommy his nickname. Leo’s gaze nervously shifts towards Rogers who is still watching Tommy from his post.

“What do you want with her? Thinking she’s gonna give you a shot? Criminal is her type, and she’s definitely yours.”

“It’s not her I need. It’s Angel.” Tommy starts, his jaw tightening as his gaze remains on Leo. “And if you want Angel, you need her.”

“If she’s as good as you say, what do you need Angel for? You’ve been talking about her like she might actually get you off.”

Leo steals a brave glance at his brother. He watches as Tommy looks up from his tattooed knuckles.

“No matter how hard you pray, people like me and you don't come out on the right side of the law. No matter how fucking good she is, she can't get me out of this. This shit is stacked too high against me." Tommy’s gaze shifts to the clock overhead. “Did you find the necklace?”

Leo nods as Tommy stands.

“Good, go ahead and do what I asked.” Tommy pauses, his voice lowering as his gaze meets his brothers. “Nothing else, Leonardo. The time I'm looking at right now, I’ll fucking kill you right here if you pull some shit like that again.”

At some point Monday night, Angel abandoned his spot on the sofa to crawl into bed with you. His intention may have been to take one side of the bed, but to no surprise, he has failed.

You came to this revelation at two o’clock in the morning when you tried to roll over but found it to be impossible. You have been stuck on your back ever since. You attempted to fall back asleep but have not been able to.

Cheek pressed against your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, Angel hasn’t moved. He doesn’t move when your alarm goes off at 7:30 or when the knock comes on the door at 8:00.

The sleep Angel lost, the past two days over Tommy seems to have piled onto him. He only wakes when your fingers brush through his hair, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cheek.

“You have to get up and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Angel mumbles. The sunlight peeking through the curtains prompts him to burrow his face against your neck. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you smile softly. “But, I’m hungry, and I can’t get our food with you laying on top of me.”

Your words are met with a huff before Angel rolls over. Resting on his back, he watches the fan spin as you get out of bed.

His first instinct is to check his phone. He pushes himself up, his body protesting with the sudden movement, once he realizes his cellphone is not where he left it.

“Where’s my phone?”

His palms pressed against his eyes as he pushes away the enticing thought of laying back down for a few more hours of sleep.

“It kept going off,” you look up from the plate in your hand. “Ezekiel kept texting you.”

“What did he want?”

Angel watches you shrug. “I don’t know. I put it in the drawer. I tried to wake you up, but you were literally dead.”

Angel releases a sigh of relief before reaching over to open the bedside drawer. Facedown, his phone has several notifications. He ignores the rest, focusing on those from his younger brother.

2:30 a.m. 📲 : You still up?

2:35 a.m. 📲 : Talked to Bishop. Found out what the shipment was

3:00 a.m. 📲 : Pretty sure I found something else

3:02 a.m. 📲 : Don’t know if this is the guy. If it is we might have a problem

3:03 a.m. 📲: Found this in the paper

3:04 a.m. 📲 : Check it out and call me back.

The last incoming message was a photo, the front page of the Daily Imperial Gazette. Angel scans the article as you climb back into bed. A few phrases stick as he reads, “Man charged in Santo Padre murder…” “Thomas Flores, 30, has been charged…” “...obtained representation from Lorente & Rothman…” “...Friday, Flores was denied bond…”

“I have to tell you something.”

Angel instinctively hits the power button on his phone. Glancing up, he realizes you haven’t even bothered to look up at him. Your focus is on the half-eaten croissant in your hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you explain as you take another bite of your croissant. “The case Samuel gave me—the one Aiden is helping me with—it’s for this guy. His name’s Tommy Flores. He has some pretty...intense charges, so you’re probably going to hear people talking about it soon. We had court Friday, and the judge...he’s pretty tough. He denied any form of a bond, he didn’t even bother trying to set a ridiculously high one.”

You glance up to find Angel’s eyes on you. His unreadable expression causes your brow to furrow. You mistake the look in his eyes as uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t think it’s anything you have to worry about.” Offering him a smile, you lightly roll your eyes. “But I’m going to have to start working late when we get back, so I need to know that what happened Friday won’t happen again.”

You wait for Angel’s response, but it doesn’t come.

“If I take over morning drop-offs, can I count on you to pick Jeyson up after school?” You continue. “Or, do I have to ask Isabela to do it...Angel?”

Angel blinks as your fingers snap.

“Are you listening to me?” The irritation he finds as his focus shifts to you causes him to nod.

Angel nods a second time as he takes in the look of skepticism on your face.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“So, you’re good with picking Jeyson up from school?” You clarify. “Every day of the week?”

Angel unlocks his phone, nodding for the third time. “Yeah. I’ll pick him up.”

“And if you can’t,” you reach forward. You catch Angel's chin forcing him to look at you. “You call and let me know the moment you find out?”

Nodding, Angel drops his eyes the second your gaze meets his. “I gotta call Ez.”

Despite his admission, your hand doesn’t drop preventing him from getting up. For a moment, Angel thinks you’ll let it go. For once, you will ignore the feeling you get each time you notice a change in him. It is something no one else in his life can seem to do. It is something you’ve been able to do your entire life. It is something Angel wishes you couldn’t do.

“What’s wrong?”

Angel shakes his head as you release him. He keeps his eyes trained on the plate in your lap avoiding your gaze as your touch brushes through his hair. It's a habit. Angel knows the moment he meets your gaze he’ll tell you whatever is on his mind. It’s impossible not to do when he knows you can read him best that way. He picks up what’s left of your croissant and takes a bite.

You sit your plate aside before closing the distance between the two of you. Angel’s eyes lift to meet yours as you settle on his lap. The warmth of your palms finds his cheeks as you take his face in your hands.

“I’ve known you nearly my entire life, Angel. I know you don’t believe it, but I can tell when you’re lying to me. Just like I can tell when you’re upset and anxious. And when you’re going to annoy me.” The soft smile on your lips brings a weak one to his. “There’s no point in trying to act like I don’t. What’s wrong?”

“You were right about Friday night. I wasn’t with Samuel. I wasn’t even in Santo Padre.” Angel lets out a deep breath. His voice low as your fingers toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ez and I were in Mexico. I left when you were in court. I knew we weren’t going to make it back in time, but I didn’t want to have to tell you because I knew you’d be pissed.”

“What happened to your hand?”

He watches you lift it. Your finger traces the bandage.

“Cut it on a shovel.”

Your gaze lifts to find his focus on the path your finger traces.

“...okay.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s not okay—I fucked up. Forreal this time—“

"What? On Friday?” You let out a deep breath. “Angel, I know I freaked out. Missing the recital—yeah, it was fucked up—but it is not the worse thing you’ve done.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that.” Your eyes watch him release a tired laugh, his gaze down. "You defend me, even when you shouldn’t.”

It is true. Defending Angel has been second nature your entire life. Often you do it in response to others. But also in response to him. When you were teenagers, you learned a valuable lesson about him. Angel is his worst critic. He’ll talk himself down harsher than anyone, even those who hate him.

“It’s because I love you.” Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him into a hug. “Just because we fight and say stupid things to each other doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Angel. If I haven’t been able to stop doing that our entire time together, I don’t know why you think a fight in a therapy session is going to be the final straw. Me not talking to you is just the easiest way for me not to say something I’ll regret later.”

Angel’s grip tightens around you as your lips press against his skin.

“At this point, there isn’t anything you can do or say that’s going to make me stop loving you.” The reassurance in your voice lifts his gaze to yours. “Okay?”

Your lips press against his in a soft kiss. You leave a second against his forehead before getting up.

“I have to take a shower,” you announce as Angel’s arm wraps around your waist guiding your body back towards his. Your fingers drift into his hair as his head rests against you. “There’s more food you should eat before we go out.”

The two of you stay that way for nearly a minute. Angel releases you as the sound of your ringing phone fills the air.

Silence from Angel Reyes is a bad sign. Such a rarity, it wrings your stomach into knots. It has been hours since you woke to find him sleeping against you. Angel has said just as little as he did in the morning. When you stepped out of the shower, you found him fully dressed and brushing his teeth.

You glance over your shoulder to find he’s standing where you last left him. Arms crossed over his chest Angel rests against the wall as far from the line as possible. With his sunglasses on, you can’t tell where he’s looking. The corner of his lips turns up into a small smile as you come to a stop before him.

“Who knew smoothies took forever to make,” he sighs as your arms wrap around his waist.

Resting your cheek against Angel's chest, you tighten your grip. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heart as his lips press against your hair.

“I want you to come somewhere with me tonight.”

“No,” Angel chuckles. You tip your head back, pouting as his gaze drops to yours.

He shakes his head as your weight shifts to your toes.

“Please,” you ask, your lips pressing a kiss against his.

“Last time I did that, you ripped me to shreds,” he laughs. “I haven’t even had time to recover from that.”

“It’ll be fun,” you promise. The second kiss you leave morphs Angel's smile into a grin. You leave a third, this one against his cheek. “I promise.”

Angel releases a long breath as you take a step back, a grin on your face.

“It better be,” he shakes his head as you quickly press a final kiss against his lips before turning to retrieve your order.

As you reach the corner, your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You don’t bother checking who it is. Aiden has called you three times. You had sent him a text message in response to his first three calls. Telling him to ask Isabela for help on whatever he needed.

The moment the call goes to voicemail, the vibration picks back up.

You force yourself to take a breath as Angel leads you outside.

“Hi, Aiden--”

“I know this week is supposed to be for you and Angel,” Aiden's voice comes out in a rushed whisper. “But, I need your help.”

“Where are you?” You ask as you take a sip of your smoothie. “And, why are you whispering?”

“I’m at the courthouse,” Aiden sighs. “I’ve been here all morning, and they’re giving me the run-around.”

“About what?”

“The Warden called the office this morning. You weren’t there, so I answered your desk phone. He didn’t give me many details, just that Flores was detained last night. They couldn't get him to say anything—to no surprise—but one of the guards said he was involved in an altercation with another inmate. Apparently, Tommy messed him up pretty bad—like...transported to the local hospital bad.”

Angel glances over at you as you slip out of his grip. You take a seat at the table he stops alongside.

In the short time, you’ve worked with Aiden, you’ve learned one thing. The moment he thinks there is something to panic about, Aiden will panic. So, if you sound stressed it kicks off his panicking.

Resting your face in your hand, you speak quietly. “So, he wasn't transferred on Friday as I'd requested? If he was he couldn't have gotten in a fight.”

“I know. Apparently this isn't the first one he's been in. The Warden said he looks like he’s been roughed up in the past few days. I’ve been here since first thing this morning—”

“Let me guess.” You rest back against your seat. “They told you there’s nothing they can do, with the prison being at full capacity they don’t have a cell for him?”

A brief silence falls over the receiver. Aiden’s brow furrows.

“Yeah—how'd you know?”

“That’s because it’s bullshit,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Judge Miller was hoping you’d leave and not press the issue.”

“Shit,” Aiden mumbles. “Shit, should I call Samuel—”

“God no. Aiden, I’ll tell you what to do, and say, just relax.”

“I lied to you.”

Angel glances down at you as your lips press against his knuckles. “About what?”

“About wanting to wait to get married.”

Your admission leaves Angel quiet. He opens his mouth to speak, but it closes as you place a second kiss against his skin.

You tilt your head back to find his eyes focused on the water.

“I was talking to Izzy the other day—not about getting married—but about you and...I mean...we’re trying to have another kid.” You backtrack as his gaze drifts to you. “That’s not the only reason, but I don’t want to spend another seven years playing house with you, Angel. I have tried so hard to find reasons why we should just leave each other in the past, but it’s impossible. I can’t help thinking that we’ve wasted so much time trying to fight it we should just get married.”

If he is excited by your words, Angel doesn’t show it. If he’s anxious by your words Angel doesn’t show it. The only response he gives is the furrowing of his brow as his pace slows before coming to a complete stop.

“I thought you’d be...a little happier,” you admit. The butterflies in your stomach seem to double in size as Angel's gaze focuses on your interlaced fingers.

“Right now?” Angel gently squeezes your hand, the smile slowly spreading across his lips causing you to shake your head. “A fancy place like this I’m pretty sure we could find someone to do it tonight.”

“Preferably with your son there,” you giggle as his lips press against your forehead.

“Just so you know,” Angel mumbles as he leaves a kiss against your lips. “You can’t take it back.”

“It’d be pointless,” you admit, your eyes focused on the incoming tide. “Regardless of what I say, you’re impossible to escape.”

“Like you said, it must be fate,” he teases as you step back towards the security of the shore.

“I didn’t say fate. I said I was tired of trying to outrun you.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “Okay.”

Pushing against his chest, you cause him to stumble backward making it impossible for him to avoid the incoming tide.

“Fuck—”

Angel’s scream is drowned out by the sound of your laughter. He tries to escape the chilled water but realizes it’s pointless as a second wave rolls through.

“Is it cold?” You ask the grin on your face prompting him to take a step in your direction. “Because it looked like it was cold.” The look on his face causes your laughter to return.

“You’re about to find out how cold it is.” The promise in his voice causes you to take a step back.

You catch sight of Angel’s smile before you take off running.

Between the giggles that leave you breathless and the sand between your feet, you don’t get very far before Angel’s arms wrap around you.

“I’m sorry, okay. Let me go, please?” Angel’s grip loosens as you turn to face him. “I really am sorry.”

A gasp escapes your lips as your feet leave the ground. Blood rushes to your head as Angel tosses you over your shoulder. It only takes a second for you to realize he’s turned and is carrying you back towards the water.

“Angel Ignacio Reyes put me down now!”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl,” Angel chuckles as he carries you into the water.

It doesn’t matter that you’re both fully clothed Angel carries you out until the water is waist-deep. He comes to a stop. Shifting you in his arms, he grins as your arms instantly wrap around his neck.

“You think this is far enough?” He asks as you take in your surroundings.

“I hate you,” you giggle as you meet his playful gaze.

“I could go further out,” he takes a step forward.

“Just do it.”

Judging by the mischievous grin on his lips, you expect him to drop you in. For whatever reason, Angel spares you a dunking. Instead, he carefully lowers you to your feet.

The chill of the water causes your grip to tighten around him. He waits until you’re standing to let go of you.

You can’t suppress the smile that finds your lips as he kisses you.

“You’re lucky you buttered me up beforehand,” he chuckles as you step around him.

He follows you back to shore watching as you glance down the beach, back towards the lights of the hotel. Your pace slows as you start in the direction of the hotel.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite the nod of reassurance, you force yourself to take another breath. You shake your head slightly, a tiny smile finding your lips. It takes a third breath for the feeling to pass. “I just—got lightheaded for a second.”

“Uh-huh. Funny how you get ‘lightheaded’ the second I take my shirt off. I don’t know why you still try and play this game at this point.”

Your eyes open in time to allow you the moment you need to react. Catching the shirt tossed your way, you watch Angel unzip his jeans.

"Angel put your shirt back on–I’m serious.” The warning in your voice stretches the smile on Angel’s lips. Your eyes leave him, long enough to drift back to the glow of the hotel’s lanterns still visible. The laughter and music cause you to step in his direction. “You are not getting naked on the beach! Are you trying to get us kicked out of here—”

“I wasn’t planning on going in naked,” Angel laughs. It is an admission of truth, but the sight of your panicked gaze causes a mischievous grin to take over his features. “But, I’m down to if you are—“

“No—"

“You know what?” Angel nods as he tugs his foot out of his jeans. “Your plan is better.”

“Angel—“

There’s no point throwing in a protest. Angel has fully stripped down to his briefs.

You step forward as he moves to push them down.

“I am serious, Angel. Do not do it.”

He rolls his neck before letting out a loud, and exaggerated, “fine.”

“But the only way that’s coming back on,” he nods towards the shirt in your hands before taking a step back. “You gotta join me.”

“I’m not doing this.”

Angel shoots you a look of skepticism as he takes another step towards the water.

“You’re already wet,” he chuckles. “Might as well get in.”

You remain where you are as Angel turns and makes his way into the water.

He waits until he’s waist-deep to start swimming out. He disappears out of sight as you drop his shirt to the ground. Stepping out of your flip-flops, you roll your eyes as you watch him resurface under the moonlight.

“Hurry up!” Even with the distance between the two of you, you can see Angel’s grin in your mind perfectly.

Despite your initial protest, you stay in the water for nearly an hour. Angel stands alongside you. His right-hand rests against your spine, his left interlaced with yours as your float. He watches you, his eyes admiring the moonlight against your skin as you focus on the stars above.

“I can’t remember the last time I looked at these,” you admit.

He smiles as your eyes drift shut. “Mom used to freak every time she caught us sneaking onto the roof to look at them.”

“That’s because you fell off one time. Nearly gave her a heart attack.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

You bite back a smile as Angel’s lips lightly brush against yours. They drift to the bridge of your nose as you release a soft giggle.

“Speaking of mom’s, yours came by last week.” Angel watches as the smile on your face slowly fades. “You were at work. I was taking Jeyson to school. She said she’s been calling you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admit. “She’s blocked.”

“I was thinking...since we’re heading back a day early, we should stop by your mom’s on the way back–”

“No.”

Angel releases a deep breath. He wasn’t naive to think you would jump at the idea. But, since seeing her, Angel couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.

“I know ya’ll don’t get along, but my mom’s not here to see Jeyson grow up. I think he should be able to know the grandparents he has left.”

“I get that, but I’m not doing it.”

Your eyes remain closed as you concentrate on the waves gently pushing against your skin.

Angel doesn’t say anything else on the subject. He knows your response will stay the same. It has for the past nine years. He also doesn’t say anything else because he knows he’s the reason you won’t budge.

The hatred your mother has for Angel may be misplaced, but she is too stubborn to admit it. She has always blamed Angel for many of your actions, starting when you were kids. Anytime you didn’t go through with what she had planned for you, Angel was to blame. You missed curfew in high school Angel was to blame. You skipped school on your birthday Angel was to blame. You didn’t attend the college she spent her entire life preparing you for Angel was to blame. You got pregnant out of wedlock Angel was to blame.

It had all came to a head at your baby shower. Angel wasn’t there, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his mother truly angry. Sure, Marisol had gotten mad at Angel countless times. But seeing how mad Marisol was as she recounted the fight she had witnessed between you and your mother, Angel was shocked.

He never asked what words were exchanged, and he didn’t have to. All he knew was that from that moment forward, everyone avoided the subject of your mother.

“I get what you’re saying, Angel,” you sigh. “But, if my mom truly wanted to get to know Jeyson she would apologize. I can’t bring our son around someone that has said the things she’s said about you. If she can say them about you, she can say them about him because Jeyson is your son.”

“Shit, I really look as bad as I feel?”

The smile on Tommy’s face grows as you look up. The heat covering your skin seems to rise as you start to speak.

“No—” You wince. “I’m sorry for staring—it’s rude.”

“It’s all good,” Tommy chuckles as he watches your eyes leave his.

He watches as you bite your lip. Whatever is on your mind, you don’t share it. Instead, your eyes linger on the bruise beneath his right eye. You’ve seen enough damage on Angel to know how bad it must have looked a few days prior.

“Hey, relax.” Tommy shifts forward in his seat, the sound of his shackles dragging across the table causing your attention to refocus. He meets your gaze. “The Doc cleared me—gave me my two Advil and sent me back to my cell. I think it’s safe to say I’m not gonna die.”

Despite the smile on his face, your head still shakes.

“Yeah, but I still feel bad that it happened. I was supposed to double-check the clearance of your paperwork.”

“Trust me, it’s not your fault,” Tommy chuckles. He watches your eyes drop to his freshly bruised knuckles. “It’s mine. The funny thing about this place is, you always run into people from your past. My mom used to said I never knew when to stop talking. I might have said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

You watch as Tommy’s eyes briefly drift over your shoulder to where Rogers sits in the corner. His smile returns as his gaze drifts back to you.

“So, I take it you had fun.” He notes your raised brow before backtracking. “The Warden said he called your office and your boyfriend answered, said you were out of town.”

Your eyes roll. “Hey, go easy on my boyfriend. He’s the one who went to the courthouse. From what I hear, he slammed Judge Miller hard because your paperwork has been approved.”

You take in Tommy’s skepticism. You slide the signed form across the table, allowing him a better view.

“Signed by the Warden as well,” you point out. “Thanks to Aiden as soon as we’re done here, you’re being moved out of the unit.”

“No shit?” Tommy chuckles. He nods in approval as he scans the form. “I’ll be sure to thank Aiden when I see him. Guess you were right. He’s got some balls after all...Look, I know I’m not the easiest client….so um….Thanks for pushing for this. Making sure everything was straight. Most people would’ve just left me where I was.”

“Yeah, well I can’t have you die before I get fully paid.”

The laugh Tommy releases brings a smile to your lips. He settles back against his chair as you pick up your pen.

"I need you to understand that this new assignment may not be your favorite," you explain. "You're being moved to a new unit, but I can't get you moved again. That means, you can't do anything else, Tommy. Do you understand me?"

Tommy nods. He looks up as your hand finds his.

"This," your lift his hand forcing him to take in his swollen knuckles. "The shit you pulled. You're lucky they didn't throw you in AdSeg. That's 23 hours in your cell. No phone calls, no visits. Nothing. The only reason they didn't throw you in there is because they messed up, and didn't want Aiden to draw a motion against the judge. I don't care what you have to do, but you better learn to walk away from a fight. Now."

"I know." Tommy sighs as you let him go.

“Then do it. My job is already hard enough as it is. I can't have you trying to kill someone while you're already here for murder. Plus, the judge is pissed because of the paperwork Aiden had to file. That's not good for either of us. So, that means I need your help.”

His brow raises, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking for help.”

“True, but help is a two-way street.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment. His eyes drop to his knuckles as he lets off a light shrug.

“What do you need?”

“For you to tell me why you were meeting with Alexander Maddox the night you were arrested.”

Tommy’s smile fades quicker than it came. His jaw tightens as he shakes his head.

You sit forward resting your elbows on the table.

“Tommy, if it’s about the MC.” Tommy’s eyes lift for a brief second. Long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the shock in his eyes. You lower your voice. “I know you’re with the Horsemen—”

Tommy shakes his head. “Look—I get you got a job to do, but—there’s just shit with the MC I can’t talk about—”

“I know how this stuff works—”

“Got a lot of personal experience with an MC?” Tommy asks.

His question causes you to release a deep breath.

“If you don’t want to tell me anything, fine. But when it comes down to it, Tommy. People will cut you off to save themselves.” The irritation in your voice lifts his gaze. “That shipment you were carrying, was not a dime bag. Your brothers will let you go down for this. Hard. They will let you rot in here for the rest of your fucking life if it means avoiding a R.I.C.O. case.”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “What’s a R.I.C.O.?”

His question throws you off. The pure confusion on his face causes you to backtrack.

“You seriously don’t know what that is?”

“I mean—I’ve heard of it...how do you know what it is?”

“It’s what you pay me for,” you remind him.

“Then I guess I’m paying you to explain it to me.”

The moment you step outside of the elevator, you come face to face with a wide-eyed Isabela.

“Is your phone dead?” She asks the irritation in her voice causing your brow to arch.

“Off—I had a client meeting with Tommy. I thought I told you—”

Isabela ignores your response, her eyes focused in the direction of your office. “Yeah, whatever. I’ve been calling you for the last freaking hour—”

“Sorry—ow.” You wince as Isabela catches your arm. She pulls you to a stop. “What?”

She releases her grip, but she sidesteps. Blocking your path, Isabela places both hands on your shoulders. She ignores the look of confusion on your face, her gaze studying yours.

“How are you?”

Her question causes you to hesitate. “...Fine...why?”

Isabela takes another moment to study your eyes as if she doesn’t fully believe you before nodding.

“Just so you know,” she sighs as she takes a step back. “I did not let her in. Aiden did. He didn’t know any better—bless his heart—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mother.” Isabela winces at the look on your face. “She’s in your office. Promise me you won’t make a scene.”

“It’s never me you have to worry about,” you mumble.

When you enter your office, you find your mother is not where Aiden asked her to sit and wait for you.

She is standing behind your desk studying a photo that she holds in her hands.

“Put it back.”

She jumps at the sound of your voice, her body turning so that she faces you.

“Put it back, please.”

Her eyes return to the photo of Angel seated on his bike. A grinning Jeyson is seated in front of him, clinging to the handlebars.

“He looks so much like his father.”

You cross the room. Taking the photo, you place it back in its original resting place before dropping your purse onto your desk.

“What do you want?” You ask as you watch step around your desk.

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

“According to the last time we spoke, I don’t have one.” You recollect as you take a seat. “It’s been...nearly nine years, so my memory might be a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you told me.” Your brow furrows as she moves to take the seat across from you. “There’s no need for you to sit. This conversation won’t last long. I have a meeting in a few minutes. What do you want?”

Your mother’s jaw tightens as she remains standing. Her eyes roll as she speaks. “I take it he didn’t pass along my message.”

“He did pass along your message, actually,” you admit. “Believe it or not, Angel said I should call you and listen to what you had to say. I just chose to do what I’ve done for the past nine years—ignore it. If you’re not going to answer my question, mom, then you can leave.”

“Your father and I want to see our grandson—”

“No.”

She expects more, but your attention has already moved on to the papers you’ve dropped onto your desk.

“See, I told you the conversation wouldn’t last long.”

“Y/N,” your mother objects. “It’s been nearly nine years.”

Your fingers interlaced as you force yourself to take a deep breath. You surprise even yourself as your voice comes out quiet and calm.

“I told you before. I do not want you near my son, and I meant it. I don’t care what excuse you’ve come here to give today. I’m not changing my mind. Your only hope is to speak with his father, and hope he’s more forgiving than I am.”

Aiden stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he reads the room. He takes a step back but pauses as you give him a warm smile.

“Hi, Aiden! Please tell me you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“No,” Aiden clears his throat. His eyes briefly pass to your mother whose gaze remains on you. “I haven’t.”

“Good. Can you order two of whatever you’re having? I’ll pay. We have to go ahead and look over this case.”

Aiden nods as you add, “great. Can you also escort my mother downstairs? She’s ready to leave.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your retreat.”

Aiden’s apology breaks your concentration.

Seated on the floor of your office, Aiden has his back pressed against your desk. His usually polished appearance is disheveled. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His tie and jacket are discarded on the back of your chair.

His apology is one he has been working himself up to share for the last three hours. Each time he thought of sharing it, he’s backed out. At this point, he’s run out of pointless conversation and has reached the bottom of your takeout container that he took over.

“What are you talking about?”

Aiden’s eyes remain on the chopsticks in his hand.

“Isabela told me not to call you about Tommy,” he clears his throat. He steals a glance in your direction. “She said it should wait until you got back—but as usual—I panicked and called you. Now you’re back early--”

“Aiden, you didn’t ruin my retreat,” you sigh. Your palms rub against your tired eyes. “It was rocky was to begin with.”

The admission silences the office. Aiden nods before opening his mouth.

“So,” you smile as you lightly bump his shoulder with yours. “Please, don’t worry about it. Angel was probably happy you called so he could leave.”

Your gaze returns to the slow-paced printer. Upon learning you were coming home early, Aiden had sent you a text message.

📲: I have some stuff to show you about Tommy.

And by “some stuff” Aiden meant a board. He had stolen one of Samuel’s whiteboards from the conference room. The entire surface is covered in your notes and information from Tommy’s files.

“I can’t believe you did all this while I was gone,” you stare at the board. “Your girlfriend might think you’re spending too much time on me.”

Aiden’s smile is sheepish. “If I had one, I wouldn’t have had time to do this.”

“Well, remind me to find you one because this is amazing.” The tease causes Aiden’s smile to grow. “I’m serious, Aiden. I can’t believe you thought you couldn’t be any help.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he shrugs, his gaze focused on the paper in his hand. “They’re all your notes, I just organized them.”

His eyes widen, a grin finding his lips as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Call it whatever you want,” you smile. “But I still get to say thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he rubs the back of his neck before glancing over at you. “We’re a team….speaking of...I found this.”

The picture he lifts is not new. It is one you’ve seen before. Your brow furrows as you take in the pregnant woman on display.

“I already know who that is,” you admit. “It’s the girlfriend of—”

“Alexander Maddox.” Aiden nods. “Right. I kept going back to your notes. You had one question. Why was Tommy meeting with Maddox in the first place?”

Your head shakes the confusion on your face prompting the rolling of Aiden’s eyes.

“How is this the answer?”

“You were asking the wrong question.” A mischievous grin slides onto his face as Aiden realizes you’re still not following his train of thought. “I can’t believe I figured something out before you—”

“Oh my goodness, Aiden—”

“When he was arrested, Tommy was carrying a shipment--”

“Yeah, something he shouldn’t have been doing by himself.”

Aiden’s brow arches. “You got a history of drug trafficking I don’t know about?”

“You’d be surprised what you pick up on this job.”

Aiden shakes his head as you motion for him to continue.

“While I was working, I kept thinking back to our conversation at the courthouse,” Aiden continues. “You said Tommy’s smart—"

“He uses people to get what he wants.”

“Exactly,” Aiden grins. He lifts the picture in his hand. “Why would Maddox meet up with someone from a rival club, in the middle of the night, with his pregnant girlfriend in tow if he was threatened by them?”

Aiden doesn’t bother answering the question. Instead, he waits for you to make the connection. The smile on his face remains as your eyes widen.

“Because he was there to make a deal.”

“Exactly!” Despite the smile on your face, Aiden’s face dampens. “...but that’s as far as I got. I don’t really know what made Tommy kill him—”

“Of course you do, Aiden.” Despite your reassurance and the confidence in your voice, Aiden’s expression hasn’t changed. “Your brain just needs a second to catch up. Maddox didn’t keep up his end of the deal. He probably tried to screw Tommy over. Not realizing that Tommy would kill him, girlfriend in tow.”

"Well, now we know why Tommy's been tight-lipped about that night. Probably doesn't want it to get out that he was skimming from the club's business."

The hug you give him brings the same response as before.

“I should help you out more often.” Aiden chuckles as you give him a squeeze.

“Careful,” you tease. “Angel’s not too fond of sharing.”

“Speaking of Angel…” Aiden’s gaze meets yours. “I know you asked me not to say anything to him about Samuel—”

“It’s okay.”

Aiden nods, but he continues. His rambling brings a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, but I just...I didn’t want you to think I was okay with what Samuel did.” His words come out quietly as he shakes his head. “The way he talked to you...it wasn’t right. You work harder than anyone here—including him—and for Samuel to do that was fucked up. I didn’t say anything in the meeting, and I should have. So, I just...I told Angel when he asked about it.”

“He would have found out eventually,” you laugh softly. “Besides, now Angel likes you.”

“For real?” The smile on Aiden’s face stretches into a grin as you nod.

A silence falls over the office as Aiden’s head rests against the desk. His brow furrows as your eyes fall to your hands. There is a final question on his mind. One he’s tried to find a way to raise since he started flipping through your notes on Saturday morning.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question lifts your gaze.

Aiden reaches into the pocket of his shirt. Your eyes widen as you take in the white card he produces. It is a card you spent the entire morning trying to find. The scheduled appointment one you have yet to share with Angel.

“It was in the notebook you turned over for me and Samuel to review,” Aiden explains as he passes the card over. “Don’t worry. I saw it before he did...I figured he was the last person you wanted to know.”

Your eyes focus on the date. A week and a half away. The initial scheduling may have been premature, but you couldn’t shake the feeling Angel was right.

“Uh...no—I mean, it’s too early to tell.” You turn the card over before looking up. “I should know by this date, so can you not tell anyone about this? I haven’t even told Izzy...or Angel for that matter. I don’t want to say anything until I’m a hundred percent sure.”

Aiden nods, a soft smile on his lips. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” You allow your head to rest back against the desk. “I don’t want to get Angel’s hopes up too early.”

It was the only thought you’ve had from the moment you woke up alongside Angel that moment. But as you glance back at the card in your hand, you know the truth has nothing to do with Angel. It’s not his hopes that you’re afraid of letting down.

You place the card aside, pulling your knees to your chest. Your gaze drifts to the board before you. The two of you sit in silence, eyes focused on your work. Silently willing your brains to come up with one more revelation before packing it up for the night.

"Alright," Aiden huffs. "I think we've gotten as far as we can get tonight."

HIs brow furrows, a chuckle filling the air as he fingers brush against your arm.

"Didn't take you for a tattoo person."

You glance over at him, following his gaze to the ink on your arm.

"Yeah, well, you've never been dragged to a tattoo parlor with Angel," you laugh. "Now, I try to avoid them at all cost."

"It's pretty cool," he grins, his eyes lingering on the design. "He has one too? Matching?"

"Yep," your eyes roll lightly. "Please don't tease me about teenage decisions."

"I won't," he chuckles. Aiden sits forward, lightly patting your leg before moving to collect the trash.

“Aiden?”

“Huh?” He glances up from the takeout containers in his hands.

“How long was he in Chino?”

“Tommy...uh, hold on.” Balancing the containers in his left, Aiden quickly rifles through the stacks of papers spread across the floor before him. “Says here...he was in Chino for....30 months.”

“Any way we can figure out where he was housed?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden admits as his eyes scan the wrap sheet. “His charges were nothing compared to now. Petty crime, so he wasn’t housed at maximum. Why?”

Once his question is met with silence, Aiden glances over his shoulder at you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in his eyes slowly morphs to fear as he takes in your expression. “Did I miss something?”

“No, I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he can pose the question, you’re already pushing yourself to your feet.

“Go home, okay? It’s getting late—don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

Although you’ve managed to mask your expression, the trembling of your hands causes Aiden’s brow to furrow.

“You sure?” He objects. He quickly stands, stopping you from grabbing your keys from your desk. “I can send an email about his placement in Chino—”

“No.” Your response comes out more panicked than you want. You quickly backtrack. The reassuring smile you give Aiden not holding the weight it’s meant to. “I’ll do it in the morning. I have to go see Angel.”

“Okay.” Aiden nods. He passes over the sheet watching as you excuse yourself.

Jeyson Reyes sits at the table in the center of the clubhouse, his math homework abandoned. His attention is devoted to the bowl of skittles in front of him. He has spent that past minute carefully picking out his least favorite skittles—the yellow.

“Word on the street is you got a birthday coming up,” Angel accepts another yellow skittle before popping it in his mouth. Jeyson’s eyes widen as he briefly pauses the task at hand. Angel’s brow furrows as his eyes study his son’s face. “How old are you turning again? Five—”

“Nine!”

“Nine? Nah--that can’t be right.” Angel shakes his head as he takes in Jeyson’s broad grin. “I don’t believe you—”

“Uh-huh,” Jeyson nods, dropping another skittle into his father’s palm. “I turn nine in seventeen days.”

“Shit—”

“That’s another dollar in the swear jar,” Jeyson reminds him as he passes Angel another skittle.

“I know,” Angel chuckles. He rests back against his seat, his eyes lingering on your son as he quietly admits. “I can’t believe you’re that old.”

Jeyson’s nose scrunches. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, you are,” Angel laughs, his hand brushing against Jeyson’s hair. “You’re almost an adult.”

“I’m still a kid,” Jeyson giggles as his eyes lift to meet his father’s. “You’re old—”

“Hey—I am not old,” Angel retorts, the feigned look of offense causing your son’s giggles to increase.

Jeyson reaches over pointing towards the beard Angel’s hand passes over. “You have gray hair—lots of it.”

His father’s gaze narrows as Jeyson’s grin stretches as far as his cheeks will allow. As if to soften the blow, Jeyson drops two more skittles into Angel’s palm before eating one of his own.

Angel’s smile remains as he watches Jeyson redirect his attention back to the bowl of skittles on the table.

“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

Jeyson shrugs. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Angel’s brow raises. “You’re counting down to your birthday, but you don’t know what you want?”

Jeyson lets off a second shrug, his concentration on the skittles causing Angel’s brow to furrow.

“You know we’re gonna end up getting whatever it is you want,” Angel smiles as he ruffles Jeyson’s hair. “You’ve been doing everything you’re supposed to in school.”

Despite Angel’s words, Jeyson’s gaze remains down. He chews on the inside of his cheek. The action causes his father to slide the bowl of skittles aside.

“What’s up? You don't think you can get what you want?”

Nearly a minute passes before Jeyson answers Angel’s question. His voice comes out quietly.

“I want you to stay at home.”

Angel’s brow furrows. The response is not what he’s anticipating. “I am staying at home.”

“My home, not yours.” Jeyson clarifies. “Where mom and I live.”

“That is where I’m staying.”

“You didn’t Friday. Is it because you don’t like living with us?” He asks quietly

Angel’s eyes drift shut, the tightening of his throat causing him to shake his head.

“Your mom and I—” Angel’s voice trails off as Jeyson looks up from the table to meet his gaze.

It is a conversation neither of them has breached before. One Jeyson has found himself thinking about more and more. One Angel knew he would eventually have with his son, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be now. He had also hoped you would be around to help him.

“You having two homes has nothing to do with me not wanting to live with you—or your mom. You don’t remember it, you were too little, but your mom and I...we used to fight a lot.” Angel continues. “I wasn’t nice to her, and I made her cry a lot. So I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave you or her, but I also didn’t want to hurt you or your mom. It took me a while to learn how not to do that. Friday...I couldn’t come home because I didn’t want to fight with your mom.”

“You still made her cry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Leaning over, Angel brushes his hand against Jeyson’s hair. His touch forces Jeyson’s eyes to meet his. “You know how you and your friends get mad at each other? Sometimes we get mad at the people we love because we don’t see things the same way. But your mom being mad at me has nothing to do with you. Okay? Just because your mom and I might fight, it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The soft smile Angel offers him prompts Jeyson to give him one in return.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m staying with you and your mom or at my house. I love you. That’s not ever gonna change. Never has, never will. Got it?”

Jeyson nods, his smile growing as Angel places a kiss against his skin.

As Jeyson's attention returns to the bowl of skittles, Angel reaches into his kutte. He pulls out the white envelope that he found in the mailbox upon your return home.

He studies the unfamiliar handwriting. Printed in block letters are his name and your address. His gaze passes over the generic American Flag stamp and date pressed into the right corner. The lack of a return address causes him to flip the envelope over.

Angel waits until he comes to a stop outside of the clubhouse to give the envelope a second glance. Tearing the side, he reaches inside pulling out a single index card. The handwriting matches that printed on the envelope.

An anniversary gift for the Old Lady.

Angel tips the envelope. His stomach tightens as the chill of a silver chain hits his palm. The buzzing of his phone in his kutte pocket goes ignored. He doesn’t need to unravel the chain to know who the necklace belongs to. He has looked at the necklace nearly every day since he was eighteen.

The continued vibration of his phone forces an irritated “fuck” from Angel’s lip before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What?”

“This is a prepaid call from Thomas Flores, an inmate at the state correctional facility. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline the call, please press nine. To accept the call and all charges that will be incurred, please press one.”

Angel doesn’t remember committing the act of acceptance. A moment later, Tommy’s voice echoes through his receiver. For a man locked inside the walls of Stockton, his voice is calm and lighthearted.

“Damn, it’s been a minute since I’ve heard your voice, Reyes. Can you believe I missed it?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Angel growls, his grip tightening around his phone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Come on, Reyes--give me some credit. I got it the same way I got your address,” Tommy chuckles. “I had to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary. It just passed, right? What is it six—no—seven years? Hopefully, the two of you are doing better these days—”

“Why are you calling?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Tommy sighs, the smile on his face stretches into a grin. “See, I was in my cell a few weeks back, thinking to myself—got a lot of time for that nowadays—and naturally, that led to me thinking of you. And how I missed my old cellmate. Then I remembered...you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? I don’t owe you shit--”

“That’s not how this shit works. I think the person who’s owed a debt gets to decide when it’s paid in full.” Tommy pauses, the silence from Angel’s end allowing him to continue. “Funny thing, I wouldn’t have even thought to call on you for this, but you made a simple mistake all those years ago, Angel. You talked too much...If you don’t want someone to use your Achilles, you don’t share it.” Angel’s brow furrows as Tommy’s words slowly begin to sink in. “Now, you know I’m not a religious man, but I bet you can imagine how good I felt when I realized that God, himself, dropped Y/N into my lap. What are the odds that she and I got brought together? Huh? It’d be a shame to let this God-given opportunity go to waste, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck do you want, Tommy?”

“A lot of things,” Tommy admits. “A turn with your pretty wife for starters. The way you put it, she’d do just about anything for you--”

“She’s not doing anything for you--”

“That’s okay,” Tommy chuckles. “You’ve always had my back when it came down to the wire.”

Angel’s head shakes. “No—Fuck this—I’m hanging up. I told you that night. One and done—”

“I take it you got my gift,” Tommy ignores Angel’s declaration. “And...judging by the unnecessary hostility I’m sensing in your voice, you took a trip down South recently.”

“I want what you took—”

“And you can get it back—scout’s honor.” The sincerity in Tommy’s voice would fool a stranger, but not Angel. “After you help me out one last time. For old times sake.”

“I’m not helping you do shit.”

“Damn,” Tommy sighs. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’re gonna leave her alone. Come up with an excuse, I don’t care. You’re finding a new attorney—”

“No can do, Reyes. See, I don’t benefit by losing her.” Tommy explains. “Unless you wanna consider my proposal. Last time I’m offering. I think you’ll find my way is the easiest—for everybody involved.”

A silence falls over the line. The trembling of his hands tightening Angel’s grip on his cellphone.

“Alright, well, my time is almost up,” Tommy yawns. His eyes pass to the clock overhead. “Plus, I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I'll give you the night to mull it over. Tell your lady I said thanks for visiting me today.”

Angel’s continued silence brings a grin to Tommy’s face. His chuckle fills this receiver.

“You haven’t told her yet….Tell me, what do you think she’s gonna say when your secret gets out? Do you think she’s gonna stick around this time? If that shit gets out, you’ll be facing more than some 18-month stint in Chino, Reyes. You’ll be facing some real-time. Ask your baby brother how that shit sits with you. All it’ll take is some rumors about the location of a missing state’s witness to start swirling...evidence anonymously getting dropped into the hands of the right people...then you and I just might be sharing a cell again.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that shit to happen.”

“Maybe...maybe not...only time will tell.” Tommy sighs. The calmness of his voice is the opposite of the feeling causing Angel to force out an unsteady breath. “Do me a favor, check with your old lady on how to get on my visitation list. I think you owe me a visit, make the shit quick, Reyes. Maybe she can get them to expedite the paperwork. You got a job to do, and your clock is ticking, homie.”

There is no need for additional words to be exchanged. Tommy hangs up, leaving Angel standing at the end of the driveway. No matter how hard Angel tried to resist—or tried to appear that he was—Tommy knew the hook was set the moment the call began.

When you pull into the clubhouse lot, you find Angel standing at the base of the clubhouse steps.

His eyes meet yours as you park, but he makes no move to meet you. The question is out before you can step around the front of your car.

“Do you know Tommy Flores?”

Angel’s eyes may be on you, but his mind is somewhere else.

“What?”

“Thomas Flores. He was serving time in Chino. Longer than you—thirty months—but you were there the exact same time. Did you hear about him while you were there?” Your question is met with silence. Angel blinks. His brow furrows as he watches you cross the lot. “I know it’s a random question, but Angel it’s really important. Okay?”

It’s common for people to cross paths. Chino is not a prison. It’s smaller than Stockton. Inmates flood in and out like clockwork. That's what your mind can produce in the time it takes you to come to a stop before him.

But it’s the look in Angel’s eyes that tightens your stomach.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once in your life.

Nearly two years ago. A night you hadn't revisited in quite some time.

When Angel had shown up unannounced at your house. This was nothing new.

Only this time, the pounding on your front door had woken you, Jeyson, and nearly half the neighborhood.

Your initial assumption was that he was drunk—it wouldn’t have been the first time Angel had shown up after a few beers and a shitty hookup only to find his way back to you. Begging you to let him stay the night, swearing to plead his drunken case, only to pass out against you the moment you were seated on the sofa.

Only this time—the moment you’d gotten the door open you were crushed by his weight. Angel's grip had been tight. The pressure caused you to wince as his face burrowed against your skin.

For once, you couldn't detect alcohol--just sweat and dirt. His grip had tightened as you tried to move back and take a better look at him.

You didn't get much out of him that night. The most you could get him to do was shower. Which was for the best because, by the time you'd helped him dry off, Angel's adrenaline crashed. He’d passed out in your bed a minute later.

In the morning, he didn’t produce much of an explanation.

"Sorry if I scared you last night," he'd mumbled as he headed to the door. "I know you asked me not to show up—unannounced like that but—I just wanted to see you."

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I knew him.”

You wait for elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Angel takes a step back. He finds a seat on the steps, his left hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, I knew him? What the hell does that mean? You knew of him, or you kn—”

“No, I knew—I know him.” Angel releases a sigh, his fist crumpling the envelope he holds. “He was my cellmate.”

“No, he wasn't.” The response is automatic. The laugh you release echoes across the parking lot. The meaning behind Angel’s silence doesn’t fully register. Your brain is still reeling, trying to find a rational explanation to deny his statement and what it means. You shake your head. “No, he wasn’t. That is not fucking possible—“

“Cellblock D. That’s where they house all gang-affiliated inmates. They don’t give a shit if you’re an MC or not. It’s all the same.” Angel quietly explains, his eyes watching the realization begin to sink into your features. “They put you together with guys from other places, knowing you might not have a brother to watch your back if you need protection. Tommy’s cellmate had recently been discharged. So, after intake, I took the open space—“

“Angel, stop. I can’t have you telling me this,” you cut him off. The sight of your widened eyes not deferring Angel’s train of thought. “Do you know what this means for my case? Why couldn’t you just lie to me—”

“Because what I need to tell you is worse.”

series taglist: @angelreyesgirl89 @holl2712 @relaxing-najee @thedeviltohisangel @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @amorestevens @witching-hour @seize-the-droid @rosieposie0624 @sesamepancakes @est1887 @queenbeered @ticosas @blessedboo @helli4nthus @katjusja @melanicia @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @moneteguiza

mayans taglist: @lilacyennefer @pedropcl @holl2712 @rae-gar-targaryen @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @henrycavill19 @silverstarsandsuns @chellybear98 @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​​ @noz4a2​​ @wiccanmetallicrose​​ @crxssourbones​​ @kimljn​​ @starrynite7114​​ @richonne4life​​  @themarkblues​​ @mariaxliliana​​ @thelovelyleo23​​ @hail-horror-queen​​ @gemini0410​​ @binooo98​​ @the-jer-bear​​ @abbiesthings​​ @losolvidad0s​​ @helli4nthus​​ @babaohhhriley​​ @futureleo1678​​ @whatupitshuff​​ @trhett21​​ @trulysuccubus​​ @minnicelli​​ @sillygoose6969​​ @capnsaveahoe​​ @leahnicole1219​​ @crashbarbie​​ @cyka1312​​ @zoovent​​ @lakamaa12​​ @keithseabrook27​​ @vir-tually​​ @awkwardtayler​​ @rawrlittlepanda-95​​ @irenne-stans​​ @pearlkitten33​​ @ezs-baby-angels-whore​​ @sesamepancakes​ @toni9​ @vannabanana1995​ @queenbeered​ @shawty-fenty​ @kaystacks17​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @anactualcaseofthetruth​ @star017​ @cant-decide-at-this-moment​ @cocotheclown​ @watsonwise​ @ilovebey2018​ @oscars-wifeyyy​ @rosieposie0624​ @jennisdirtyimagines​  @ughdontbeboring​ @jjwriter23​ @briskywalker​ @peoniarose​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @partypoison00​ @making-starsdance​ @claytoncardenasbabymama​ @myakai13

[euphoriyoongi]

♥︎ So this is Love ♥︎ k.s.j

A Cinderella Story

Requested by: @baby-mochi123

♥︎ Summary:

As an orphan living with your late fathers disgrace of a wife and two step sisters, you’re hidden away from the world. That is, until the King gets inpatient for grandchildren, and invites all maidens to the royal ball.

♥︎ Genre: royalty au, Cinderella-themed, love at first sight, comedy

♥︎ Word count: 5.6k

♥︎ Warnings: none

m.list

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time in a far away land, there was tiny kingdom…

~

Ever since your father died, life has been rough.

You could barely remember the times you used to play in the grass fields with your mother, or the time you ripped the bottom of your dress as you fell.

Those memories were distant. Nearly gone. Your father remarried after your mother died, and the woman he married was more of a devil than anything. She would act all sweet to you when your father was around, but behind closed doors she disgraced and belittled you.

When your father passed away, she became more evil than before, which was hard to imagine. She was already so terrifying, but now it seemed as though she had something against you.

You were fully grown now, able to do everything for yourself. But yet, you were forced to like in a crammed attic of their home, while your two step sisters enjoyed lavish rooms and jewelry. It was unfair, but you made yourself worth living. With all of the chores and the dust and dirt you'd have to clean up every day, you still had your pride.

You lived in solidarity up and away from the vicious people you could never call family, and the only friends you could call your own were the rats that populated the walls.

The terribly loud clock broke you away from your slumber and bells began to ding, signaling it was time to make breakfast. They forced to go serve them as they lay in bed, and all you wanted was to be able to eat what you made. There would only ever be enough for the three of them and their cat—which was fittingly named Lucifer—and never any for you. That was probably why you were so thin.

"Y/n!!" Your stepmother's voice bellowed through the walls continuously, hailing you to begin her breakfast. She always yelled like she was going to starve if you didn't get it to her in time which wasn't true. She was bigger-boned and had plenty of meat on her bones, and always concealed it with a super tight corset that she would claim her real waist.

"Y/n?! Where's breakfast?" Your step sister screeched at you from her bedroom as you walked by. You ignored her and continued to walk to the kitchen. "Hey! Don't ignore me! Mother, Y/N is ignoring me again!"

You continued to walk to the kitchen and once you got there you began to prepare breakfast. You scrambled up the food and poured tea, and then placed it on 3 plates to bring to them.

As you brought them all their breakfast, your stepmother beckoned you to come into her room. Before you entered, your two ugly step sisters blocked the door. "You're gonna get it bad, Y/N."

You brushed them off again and made your way through the double doors or your stepmother's room, the cat following you in.

The cat glided it's way through the dark room and jumped onto the large bed, curling up into the arms of a dark looking figure. She didn't speak.

"Stepmother—"

"Shut it." She hissed as she pet her cat, who was as dark as the room. His eyes were the only visible part of him. "Seems like you have a lot of time on your hands. Let's put it to good use."

You stayed silent and listened to what she had to say. You knew it was going to be chores, and you just wished you could have some alone time to yourself.

"You have full chore duty today. That includes folding the laundry, washing dishes, scrubbing to floors, sewing your step sisters' dresses and oh—don't forget the garden."

You sighed. "Yes Step-mother."

You had no way out of it. It was all you could do to respect your father.

You could've swore you saw the cat smirk. "Oh yes, one more thing. Don't forget to bathe the cat."

Over the hill was the large grandeur of a palace, where the king and his son lived.

The king was getting impatient, wondering when his son would give him grandchildren. He wasn't getting any younger, and wished to see children before he passed.

Kim Seokjin, the only prince of the kingdom, hasn't even had the thought of settling down yet. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but he thought no one could be his match. The prince was away on business, but was coming home tonight.

His father decided to send out invitations to every eligible maiden in the kingdom to a royal ball, hoping at least one of them will catch his eye.

So it wouldn't seem suspicious, he figured he could plan this ball for his return, and have all the women there for him.

Tonight was the night he planned for the ball. He then sent out all the invitations, hoping for the best.

As you were scrubbing the floor, a thin piece of paper slid through the mail slot on the door and landed right at your feet. You picked it up and didn't bother reading it, you weren't the best at reading anyway. You did notice it was from the palace.

Your step family was upstairs as they were practicing their music skills and you walked up the stairs to interrupt.

You knocked softly, but your step mother screamed as you entered. "Y/n! What did I say about interrupting—"

"This just came from the palace!" You excitedly murmured, and held your hand out for your step mother to grab it.

"There's to be a ball...every eligible maiden is to attend!" She cried out and looked to her daughter's who were jumping up and down.

"We're both eligible!!" They screamed simultaneously, happily shaking the floorboards.

Your eyes lit up when you heard what she said. "That means I can go, too!" You said, covering your mouth with your hand in excitement.

One of your step sisters snickered. "Yeah, right! Her dancing with our prince! That's impossible.

"Greetings your highness, would you mind holding my broom." The other sister giggled as she mocked you.

After their laughs ended, you spoke up again. "Well, why not? I am part of the family. And it says by royal command..."

The sisters looked at each other and then at their mom. "Well...I can't see why you couldn't go..." she stared down at the piece of paper. "If you get all your work done and find something suitable to wear.."

"Yes step mother I sure will!" You smiled as you made your way out. "Thank you."

You ran as fast as you could up the steps to plan your outfit, knowing you have your mothers old dress locked away in a chest.

You noticed it was a bit outdated, so you looked through your sewing book to see any changes you could make to it.

Just as you finally thought you reached happiness it faded away just as quickly as it happened. You were beckoned again to start your chores and now you wouldn't have nearly enough time to sew the dress.

As you worked your ass off to clean and get things done, time flew. You thought you didn't have a change at going to the ball now, especially when you heard the carriage reach the chateau. You sighed. As if your day couldn't get any worse. Your step mother opened her door when she heard you walk by. "Y/nN my dear, why aren't you dressed?"

Your two step sisters peaked out of the doorframe, awaiting your answer. "Ah, I'm not going."

They all smirked, but tried to cover it. "That's too bad. Maybe next time." She cooed and shut the door to get her daughters ready.

You made your way back up to your humble living space, and your shoulders were hunched as you walked up the stairs. You really thought you had a chance for yourself this time. You hated being someone's maid, and you wished things would be different. You had hoped this was the chance to break out of your shell and this house and follow your dreams. Dreams of meeting your one and only true love.

As you entered your room you peered out the window, staining at the tree branches that blocked the moonlight. You sighed, deep in thought.

A sudden creek came from your closet, and the door began to open slowly. You nearly screeched when you saw a dozen rats run out of it, but when your eyes landed on the gorgeous dress that was hung up, you glanced at the little rodents.

"How the hell did you do that? Was that some kind of sorcery?" You stared at the dress with wide eyes, trying to figure out how tiny rats were able to stitch and sew. Maybe you were going crazy. "Thank you..I guess." You said sincerely, but still couldn't wrap your mind around it all.

You rushed to get ready and tossed on all your accessories, including a beautiful jade necklace that sat on the corner of your desk. You were unsure about how it got there, but figured it was the rats with superpowers and carried on with your plans.

You rushed down the stairs as you noticed that they were about to open the door to leave. "Wait for me!" You yelled as you ran, hoping they wouldn't give you any trouble. "I'm ready."

"Mother you can't let her go! It's not fair!" The ugliest sister growled as she tossed her hands in the air.

The other sister huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "This is disgraceful!"

"Now girls...a promise is a promise." Your step mother smirked as she neared you, reaching a hand out to cradle your jade necklace. "Isn't this beautiful, what do you think—"

"No it's ugly—wait! That's my necklace! She stole it!" She hissed reaching out towards it. "Gimme that!" As she grabbed onto it she yanked it, and the necklace broke, sending all the beads to dance across the floor.

You gasped as that happened, and the other sister barely gave you enough time to get a grip when she began to tear your dress from bottom to top. They both  aggressively tried to tear it apart, not a care in the world about how you felt about it. It was your mothers dress after all, and now all that's left is the torn fabric that fell from your shoulder.

"Girls, girls. Let's not be too hasty. I don't want you upsetting yourselves." Your stepmother softly spoke, side-eying you as if she didn't see the whole debacle. "Let's go, we'll be late." She said, leaving you all alone in the large empty house, torn to pieces.

You couldn't help but start to cry. You tried your best to be able to go, even trusted rats to fix up your dress. But now your dress was ruined and you were crying, subconsciously finding yourself in the garden under your favorite willow tree.

"It's just no use at all.." you cried out as you laid your head down onto the bench, kneeling. "There's nothing left to believe in anymore."

You let your tears fall, completely oblivious to the bench that somehow turned into the lap of a man. His hand softly stroke your head, listening to you cry.

"Nothing? You don't really mean that, right?" His soothing voice spoke out, and you'd think it would've broke you out of your funk, but it didn't. You still sat there with your head in his lap and cried.

"Yeah, I do mean that—"

"No you don't, or I wouldn't be here." He shrugged and you finally realized something wasn't normal. You sat yourself back and gasped at the boy in front of you. He had dazzling blue hair and eyes to match, with a beautiful pink gown on. He looked very feminine and approachable. Sparkles danced around his figure and he held something that looked like a wand in his right hand.

"Wha—" you rubbed your eyes, trying to understand was was in front of you. First it was artsy rats, now...a fairy?!

He reached around your arms and slowly lifted you up. "Okay, you definitely can't go to the ball looking like...that." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "We have to hurry."

He glanced around, almost as if he was trying to find something. "Now what did I do with that damn wand, I swear I lose it every time.."

Your eyes widened. "Wand? Then you must be—"

"Your fairy godfather—god that's so strange to say. How bout your god-daddy" he shook his head as he covered his mouth. "Wait no that sounds to provocative. Just call me Jimin." He smiled, and then continued to look for his wand.

You glanced at his right hand, which held a long stick-like thing. "Uh...is that it? In your hand?"

"Now who do you take me for? Im not that dumb I—wait, you're right. I guess I am that dumb." He scratched his head in embarrassment and shook it off. "Okay. I say the first thing you need is a pumpkin."

"A..pumpkin?" You questioned, glancing over at the pumpkin patch that was part of the garden.

"Yes. Now what we're the magic words?" He wondered out loud, scratching his chin. "Ah! Bippity boppity boo bitch!"

And just as ridiculous as the magic words were, a grand carriage blossomed from the pumpkin. You were at a loss for words as you glanced from the carriage to Jimin, shaking your head in astonishment. "How'd  you do that?"

He smiled. "Magic, I guess." He said not too confidently, looking from you to the little rats around your feet. "Now you need horses."

You looked down and the rats and giggled. You could've sworn you were in a fever dream right now. How was all of this possible?

With the flick of his wrist, Jimin turned the cute little rats into large white horses, standing high and mighty as they were ready to pull the carriage.

You didn't even take notice to an actual horse that stood next to Jimin, patiently waiting to have his turn with magic. "Now you need a coachman.." he muttered and waved his wand at the horse, transforming it into a human man. He sat at the reins of the horses, ready to go.

"Okay what the hell is going on here?" You blinked frantically as you tried to understand what was happening in front of you. How could such a gorgeous man be a fairy, and how could said gorgeous man turn a horse into a person?

Maybe you were high or something.

"Aha. Now, it's your turn." He turned to you with his wand and winked. He looked you up and down and bit his lip, then looked into your eyes. "You're super hot and all, but that dress is a no no."

He waved his wand up to the sky and did a little twirl, and you couldn't help but chuckle at how ridiculous he looked. But all of a sudden a large wave of sparkles encased your body, spiraling around you with high speed. You looked down in confusion, then when it all stopped, what was left was a beautiful silvery-blue dress that sparkled as much as the stars.

"Woah..." you breathed, spinning around in it. It was absolutely stunning, you didn't even want to question how he did it. He then fixed up your hair and makeup, and last but not least, your shoes.

You had a weird shoe size. It was a bit too small for your body, so most of the time it was hard to find ones that fit. So when Jimin magically put sparkling glass heels onto you, you gasped in disbelief.

They sparkled even more than the dress, but all in all you sparkled more than the night sky. "This is like a dream.." you murmured in awe.

"Okay, I'm done." He chuckled, crossing his hands across his chest. "Just one more thing."

"What is it?" You asked him, on edge to go to the palace.

"This is all a façade, okay? Just like all dreams, it won't last forever." He looked into your eyes. "It won't last after midnight. Everything will go back to how it was before."

You nodded. At least that gave you enough time to try to meet the prince. "Okay. I'll be out of the palace before that."

He nodded, then gasped and it nearly scared you. "Okay, you gotta go or you'll be late."

He shooed you into the carriage and as you sat down, the horses that were once rats took off, leaving Jimin in the dust. When you looked back you noticed his little wave, then all of a sudden he disappeared into thin air, making this whole situation even weirder.

When you approached the castle, you noticed how grand it was. With it standing so tall it looked like it hit the clouds, and the beautiful stones that held it all together. This was a dream in life itself that sadly had to end, but you were going to make the most of it.

Currently inside the palace, the king organized all of the women to be introduced to the prince one by one. But everytime a promising woman would walk up, it was almost as if he would yawn at the sight of them.

The prince stood tall in the great hall, barely giving any women a second glance. He didn't want any of them, and just wanted to find someone himself. His father and the arch duke sat up high on the balcony, looking down on the scene. Seokjin looked up, noticing how aggravated his father looked.

You approached the grand steps to enter the ballroom, the sides lined with guards. You looked over at them when you noticed they were looking at you, and continued your walk up a hundred red-velvet covered stairs.

Your step sisters were currently being introduced, you took notice to that as you walked into the room. The far side wall was open, leaving only the beautiful night sky to be viewed. What you didn't take notice of was that the prince stopped in his tracks and was standing at you wide eyed.

Seokjin couldn't help himself. The two girls that were in front of him were such a bore. When he bowed respectfully to them and straightened up he noticed you, where you were directly in his line of vision with the dark sky surrounding you, making it seem like you were sparkling.

He had to meet you. The way you spun around to music that wasn't even being played or the way he just glanced at you once and could've sworn he fell in love, he knew he had to at least know your name.

He pushed past the two sisters and stepped toward you, determined to make you his bride.

He reached out a hand towards your shoulder. "Hello, miss?" Jin said politely, his dark hair pushed up to reveal his forehead. "How come I don't know who you are?"

His father took notice to his interest, and hurriedly signaled the band to play the waltz.

When the music ran through the room, you didn't even have time to answer him. He was breathtakingly beautiful, almost like a prince. Little did you know that he was one.

"Would you like to dance with me?" He asked you and held onto you hand, raising it to kiss the back of it.

You shivered in delight, knowing you fell for him at first sight. It seemed like he did, too. So much for marrying a prince, you didn't care who this guy was at this moment. "I'd love to."

He held your hand as you both made your way to the center of the ballroom, watching all of the women cry in disbelief.

He slid his hands down to your waist and you held your hands onto his shoulders. You moved in sync, your lips just a few inches away from his. His eyes were stunningly dark and mysterious with hair to match. His lips were plump, almost pillow-like and you wondered how they would feel against yours.

You couldn't get enough of him, you were lost in him. In his touch, in his eyes, in his heart. He was also captivated by you and had no doubt you were the one out of all these women.

"Who is she, mother? I've never seen her before." The step sister asked as she tried to get a good look of you from the crowd.

"We'll Ive never—wait a minute...something is familiar about her." Your stepmother wondered, but before she could get a good look, they moved their way out onto the terrace, now all alone without anyone watching.

After the dance was over he held you in his arms, brushing a stray strand away from your face. He smiled at you when he noticed your blush.

He grabbed your hand, holding onto it tightly as he took you into the garden, both of you in bliss.

You both sat down on the edge of a large fountain, not taking notice to the clock behind it. It was nearing midnight, but you were so lost in his charm that you didn't even pay attention.

He sat next you you closely, and looked from your eyes to your lips. "You're beautiful. I hope you know that." He said to you as he leaned in farther. "So, so beautiful."

His lips grazed yours softly, but before it could turn into a kiss, the clock struck twelve behind you, bellowing a loud noise. You whipped your head around and noticed the time. "Oh my god!"

You stood up abruptly, and his hand that was on your thigh flew up as you stood. "What's wrong?" He wondered with worry, noticing how frantic you were.

"It's midnight!" You cried, holding onto your dress like it was going to disappear.

"Yeah..so.." he trailed off, hoping that this night would go farther.

You shook your head and turned to leave. "I have to go." You said sadly, but his hand grabbed yours before you could run off.

"You can't leave now—"

"I have to!" You said as you looked frantically back and forth, hoping nothing would disappear right now.

"But why?" He asked softly. He didn't want you to leave. He had so much more he wanted to say to you, he didn't even know your name.

You had to make up an excuse. "I—uh...the prince! I haven't met the prince yet!" You said and nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

"The..prince?" He asked. Didn't she know it was him? "But didn't you know that I—"

The clock bellowed again, sending you hurriedly looking for the way out. "Goodbye!" You said and bowed, and ran off back into the palace to find your way down those beautiful velvet steps.

"Wait! I don't even know your..." he trailed off as he ran after you. "Name.."

Before he could catch you, all the women blocked his leave and surrounded him, all blabbing something he wasn't paying attention to. All he saw was the beautiful girl he fell in love with run down the stairs, only leaving a glass heel behind.

You ran out of the palace and jumped into your carriage which was thankfully still intact. It rode off and it started to slowly change.

The carriage began to soften like how it was before and transitioned into a large pumpkin, and the horses morphed back into the small rats they once were. Everything was a blur and all of a sudden you fell to the ground with a thud, picking yourself up and scurried with the animals to hide in the forest as the palace guards ran straight, smashing the pumpkin that was once a carriage.

It was quiet now, you stared down at your tattered dress. The cute little rats stood by your feet, trying to get you to notice that you still had one glass slipper. It didn't disappear with the rest of it.

That was all you had left of that night, and you went back home holding it tightly, dreaming about the man you nearly kissed.

The next morning the prince paced back and forth in his room, trying to figure out a way to find her.

Seokjin was never like this. He was always calm and collected, but something ticked in his mind when he met you. He needed to find a way to get you back into his arms. He didn't even get to kiss you.

He held the heel you left behind in his hand and came up with a great idea. He needed to have this heel reach every maiden's household to see if it fit. The problem is, it could fit any number of the girls. He’d just have to wish for the best. His father would never let him out of the palace to do it himself though.

The grand duke was willing. After figuring out the plans, the duke took off to find the girl of the prince's dreams.

“Y/N!” Your stepmother cried out angrily. “Where are you?” She paced up the stairs but stopped as soon as she heard you.

“I’m right here.” She spoke out as you exited one of the rooms downstairs. She always seemed to rush you even if you were doing a great job.

“Where are the girls?” The looked anywhere but you as she asked this, only ever worrying about her own daughters.

You set down the broom you had in your hand and sighed. “They’re still sleeping.”

She rushed up the steps in anxiousness and you wondered what was the matter. You walked into the kitchen and grabbed the tea for them quickly and ran upstairs, only to overhear their conversation.

“What’s wrong, mother?” Both the sisters were in the same room, both tired and yawning up a storm.

“He’ll be here any minute!” She rushed, pulling back the curtains to bring light inside the room.

“Who?” They asked simultaneously with a yawn.

“The grand duke. He’s been hunting all night.” She rooted through her daughter’s wardrobe. “For that girl! The one that lost her slipper at the ball last night. Apparently he’s madly in love with her.”

“The duke?” One of them asked, only to be interrupted loudly.

You walked into the doorway at this moment, looking back and forth at the sisters and your stepmother.

“No, the prince!”

You stopped in your tracks. So that man you met—the man you nearly kissed—was the prince?

You gasped. “The prince?” The glass teapot that was in your hands slipped through your fingers, sending shards all over the floor.

“You clumsy fool! Clean that up!”

You couldn’t even pay attention or acknowledge the fact that you were spoken to. The only thing you did was slowly fall to the floor and clean it it without paying close attention. You couldn’t believe it. You…met the prince?

“Why are you telling us this then? If he’s so in love with that other girl?”

Your stepmother side glanced you and continued to root through the wardrobe. “Because not even the prince knows who she is. The glass slipper is the only clue. So one of you must fit into it.”

You glanced up as you cleaned the mess, listening intently to what was going on. “The grand duke was ordered to try it on every maiden in the kingdom. If the shoe fits, that girl will be the prince’s bride by order of the king!”

“Bride?” You whispered in shock, still unable to wrap this around your head.

As the sisters clashed together in search for clothing you saw yourself out, blissfully dancing to the door to your room.

Your stepmother watched you as you swayed, and she narrowed her eyes. Something was certainly fishy about you, and she didn’t have the time to let you become someone better than her daughters. She sneaked up the stairs and peaked through the door, watching you as you sang lovingly in the mirror.

You coughed of glimpse of her in the corner of your eye and turned around, only to see her slide the key into her pocket and lock the door, slamming it.

“No no no!” You cried out, running to the door. “You can’t leave me in here!” You banged on it with your fists as hard as you can, only to hear her footsteps slowly disappear.

You set your back against the door and slid down to the floor. How were you supposed to meet the prince now? How would he ever find you?

You lost all your hope. When you heard the trumpets sound that the duke was here, your heart dropped to your stomach. You let a few tears fall, upset that no one here would even care enough about you. It spoke a thousand words when your step mother locked the door on you, not caring if you needed anything, or to be happy for you if it was your slipper.

The duke came into the house and glanced down at the two sisters who definitely weren’t the prince’s cup of tea. He still had to do his job anyway. He read out the decree and told the older sister to sit down first to try it on. When the glass slipper seemed like it fit like a glove he stood back in awe, that is, until she lifted her foot up and it was only covering half of it.

Meanwhile, the magic rats were up to something. The smallest one was able to gently slide into your stepmother’s pocket. The others stood by and were able to reach it when the small rat lifted it up. They hurriedly rushed the key up the stairs, but it was a bit heavy for them. This was going to take a while.

The duke sighed and shook his head. “Let’s try the next young lady.”

The next sister tried to forcibly squeeze her way into it. She kept complaining that her foot was just swollen today and kept trying. The duke sat there with a frown, knowing that it wasn’t either of these girls. “Are you sure there isn’t another maiden in this household?” He asked you stepmother, grabbing onto the heel and keeping it safe.

The rats were tired, but were able to reach the top of the steps. Now it was time for you to shine.

“No, there’s no one else here—“

“Your grace! Wait!” You cried and rushed down the grand steps of the chateau. “May I try it on?”

The duke’s eyes widened as he took notice to your appearance and smiled. He signaled his servant forward as you reached the bottom of the stairwell.

Your stepmother rolled her eyes. “Don’t pay attention to her.”

“She’s just y/n! A nobody!”

“Madam.” He stood sternly next to your stepmother. “My orders were every maiden. Now if you would excuse me.”

He motioned you to sit down in the chair and beckoned his servant to bring the glass slipper towards you. As he came closer, your stepmother stuck her foot out, only to come to the servant tripping, which sent the glass slipper flying through the air until it smashed right before your feet.

You weren’t too worried about it—since you had the other slipper��but the duke nearly cried and he tried to piece it together. “No no no, this is terrible!” He cried out. “What could we do?”

You smiled at him and then glanced to your stepmother, who was smirking. You always new she was no good for you. But now you were done. “Perhaps..if it would help?” You slid the other slipper out from behind you. “The other slipper?”

He gasped and grabbed ahold of it excitedly. He reached down to slide it onto your foot, and when it fit, he breathed a sigh of relief. The prince could finally be happy.

~

Bells chimed and people cried out as you rushed down the stairs of the palace in your grand wedding Dress, holding onto Seokjin’s hand tightly with a smile. This was a dream come true. A fairy tale. Everything worked out for you at the end of it.

Here you were in the back of a carriage taking you both somewhere for alone time, but you couldn’t help but blush as his hands cradled your face. “I’m so glad I found you, y/n.”

You stared lovingly into his eyes, glancing down at his lips slightly. “I’m so glad you wanted to find me, Seokjin.”

He stared at you like no one has ever before. He looked at you with such intent it nearly made you melt. His eyes glanced from your eyes to your lips and once again he leaned it for a kiss, this time actually happening.

His lips softly touched yours, slowly moving into you as his hands cradled your face like you were glass. You wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen this kiss, so in love with each other.

All this struggle, and now here you were in each others arms, happily in love and wishing it would never end.

And they lived happily ever after.

[hnychn]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 [𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈]

summary : levi wanted to believe the Fates were kind, but he should have known better

warnings : character death, heavy loss, a single mention of suicide, more greek myth allusions, fem! reader

word count : 3000+

a/n : omgomgomg tysm @yeehawslap for giving me permission to write this, i swear when i read their post i was immediately inspired to write this and i'm so sorry to your feelings :') also i swear i changed the title of this like, ten times

attack on titan masterlist || navigation

The Fates had dealt Levi a rough life. 

When the goddess Clotho had spun the thread of his life, she must have incorporated thorns into every string; even now Levi could feel the pricks of guilt that chipped away at his soul each time he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and faced the bloodied scout patches of the lives lost.. 

Lachesis had enforced his life; she had been the one to use his thread to create. Although, Levi must admit, the fates must have favored him a tiny bit if they had sent you to him. You, his lovely wife whom he met one late evening under the stars, a gash on his head and gauze in your hand ready for you to patch up. 

You had been there to take out every thorn in his thread Clotho had stuck in his life; every ounce of guilt, every second of regret had been a burden on his shoulders you relieved by simply being there. 

Perhaps the Fates weren't all that bad. 

They must have been even just an ounce of virtuous if they had allowed him to call you his forever. The fates had strung together a love story into his thread of life and allowed him to invite someone into the most intimate parts of him, allow him to find peace within someone; to create a life together. 

Levi could remember the day when you burst into his office, a smile so bright he was sure even the sun was envious of the warmth you radiated. No words were spoken as you pulled him into your arms and cried. 

It was only through hiccups and sobs did he hear your soft voice tell him he had created a life. And while your stomach was still as flat as it had been the night before and many nights before that, he pressed his hand against it nonetheless and promised to protect the life within you until his very last breath. 

Perhaps the Fates weren't all that bad. 

Isabel, as the two of you named your daughter, had become a nearly carbon copy of her father. not only did she share many features in common with him, she also inherited his strength. 

She was able to hold her head up on her own only a mere months after birth, and she often gave you a terrible fright when she climbed out of her crib at night with a strength a toddler shouldn't have. Though, it was of no real surprise to either of you; you were sure your womb must have taken a terrible beating with the strength of her kicks while she was still growing inside of you. 

And, with her strength and many similarities with her father, came her desire to join the scouts. 

It was the first time in her life Levi had denied her something. 

Admittedly, little Isabel had her cold, ruthless captain of a father wrapped around her stubby little finger since the moment you pushed her out of your womb. You could hear the way he promised to give her anything her little heart desired and often you found yourself being more strict with her. 

Though, this had been Levi's one fear. 

Levi has seen countless people fall beyond the walls. He's witnessed Farlan and Isabel (his daughter's namesake) tragically torn to pieces by those wandering monsters. He’s seen countless bodies piled up in wagons to return to the walls for burning. 

You’ve seen your fair share of horrors, too. You’ve seen the injuries people walk into your clinic with, the blood gushing through gaping wounds, their bones snapped in angles they shouldn't, the limbs you've had to amputate; and the sheer image of your daughter being one of them was enough for you to turn green with sickness. 

There were countless arguments between Levi and Isabel (you often found yourself the mediator of these fights and cursing the fates for making both father and daughter stubborn as mules). But ultimately, Levi had caved as he always did, and promised to train her harder than anyone else in the training corps.

True to his word, Isabel often returned home with bruises and collapsed next to you on the couch, her head falling into your lap with fatigue. You smiled as you ran your fingers through her hair as she tiredly recounted her training with her father and other members of the Training Corps. 

She had recounted many stories of the friends she’s made there; an arrogant boy named Jean who she loved to tease and roughhouse with, a boy with a buzzcut named Connie she liked to mess around with and prank occasionally, and a girl named Sasha. 

The dusty pink on her cheeks when she told you stories about her sprouted an inkling inside of you that made you think she was more than just a friend to your daughter. You only smiled as she went on. 

Though, late at night, when your husband had long ago fallen asleep and your daughter was tucked safely away in her room, did you find yourself praying to the Fates. You prayed no arm would come to your daughter and she would lead the happy life she deserved. You prayed the Fates were kind.  

Perhaps . . . the Fates weren't kind . . .  

Levi should have known the fates hadn't meant to give him a life as peaceful as his (or as peaceful as it could be with you and Isabel by his side). He should have known better than to think the Fates were righteous.  

Afterall, the goddess Atropos always came to collect what was due. Atropos was the third and final Fate, the goddess who cut the threads her sisters weaved and toyed with. She was the one who claimed souls. Atropos watched time and time again as Levi avoided her attempts to collect his thread and grew frustrated the more he slipped through her fingers like sand. So, Atropos did the next best thing. 

She stole a life close to him. 

Levi could feel his blood run cold when Jean walked in, his hands fisting the shirts of two children and his eyes wild with shock. His words were shaky and his eyes were covered in a daze of denial, as if his mind was trying to protect him from the inevitable heartbreak he would experience. 

Levi waited with a bated breath for Jean to crack a smile and admit this was all some sick joke he could punish him later for. That his whole thing was nothing but a nightmare and he was bak at home, cuddled in bed with you and your daughter was sleeping soundly in her room just down the hall. 

But he knew it wasn't a dream, not when you gasped as you did, when he could practically see your heart shattering in your eyes and the way you nearly pushed him to the floor as you ran to the back of the airship. Levi followed close. 

"ISABEL!" 

You had practically thrown Connie to the side to get to your daughter. Her eyes were hazy with the same veil of death you had seen time and time again with your patients and friends. Sasha stood still to the side, her eyes wide and her hands shaking, “should have been me, it should have been me.” She chanted the words like a spell that would somehow transfer the wound to her, a spell that would miraculously heal your daughter who lay on the cold hard floor of the airship, blood slowly seeping out of her. 

The logical medic in your brain delivered you the harsh truth as you assessed your daughter and her wounds. The unforgiving voice hissed in your ear about her inevitable death, the wound is too fatal, there’s no way she’ll make it back to the island. You hushed the voice as quick as it spoke, your heart denying the severity of the situation. 

"oh," Levi could only watch as you clutched onto Isabel, your hands working like clockwork as they put pressure on her wound despite the violent shake in them, "oh, my baby..." 

Levi took a hesitant step closer. It was haunting, watching his daughter who held so many of his qualities lay on the floor, bleeding to death. He had remembered the many times she pulled his hair as a child, giggling loudly as she pointed out the obvious, ‘I’m just like you, daddy!’ 

Oh, how he wished he could go back to those moments. When his daughter was nothing but a small child he cradled in his arms, tucking her safely under his chin as he gently rocked her side to side to lully her back into a deep sleep. He wished to go back to the nights he held your hair back as your stomach churned with nausea and your daughter was but a growing fetus, protected within the walls of your womb. 

"M . . . mommy . . .” Isabel breathed. 

You sobbed harder, "it's okay baby, i'm here, mommy's here." 

You ran your fingers through her hair, hushed her and soothing her as you once did many years ago when she was nothing but a small baby clutching onto the material of your dress. 

She had been so tiny then, so fragile and sweet and innocent. But she had long since grown out of her baby face and matured into a strong woman you were proud to have nurtured. But in this moment, it was as if she returned to the same fragile baby as she was years ago as she clutched onto the straps of your gear like a lifeline, her eyes dull but full of fear and hesitance.

"Mommy please, i'm- s' scared . . ." her voice was breathy and you could see the energy drain from her eyes the harder she tried to keep them open.

You wanted to be selfish, to tell her to keep her eyes open, to keep breathing and push through the pain. But you could see the pain flash in her eyes each time she took a breath, you could hear her breathy wince with every movement she made, and you knew you couldn’t be selfish. 

Levi could see your resolve slowly crumble, the way the shake in your hands grew more and more violent and he could practically see the screams bubble in your throat as you tried to swallow them down to comfort your daughter. Levi knew if he didn't step in now, there would be no salvaging the broken pieces of you after this. 

"It’s okay, princess." Levi crouched down on the other side of his daughter, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to keep his composure. 

Her head slowly turned to him, "d-daddy . . . ?" 

Levi hummed, "Yeah, it's me princess. It’s okay, you did so well, you were so brave." 

"I was?" her words were breathy and rushed as she tried to cling on to the last threads of her life. You could feel her grip in your gear lose its strength and you nearly let the screams clawing at your throat escape. 

pleasepleasepleaseplease, you begged, not her please not my baby. 

"So brave." 

Levi had never felt so helpless watching his daughter's eyes lose their life, he could only sit there and reassure her that everything would be fine and she had done good as she took her last breaths. Images of the other Isabel laying dead on the floor flashed through his mind and Levi nearly vomited. 

"I love you" 

Levi nodded, "I know. I love you too, princess. Now rest." 

The winds howled loudly outside, but there was nothing loud enough to drown out the screams that had finally escaped from you as you gripped your daughter’s hand so tight your knuckles turned white. Levi held you close as tears of his own dripped down his face and an indescribable weight placed itself in his heart.  

The Fates were not kind. 

Life after that seemed to lose its shine. 

Your home was hauntinly quiet. Every inch of the home had memories of your daughter carved into the wooden frame. Her first words, her first steps, her first breath. You had given birth to your daughter in the living room, and where the walls once gave you comfort and warmed your heart with reminders of the first life you had brought into the world, it now made you sick with grief and added to the weight in your heart. She had taken her first steps in the hallways, clutching your fingers tight as you guided her down the hall to Levi who waited for her with a proud smile. Her first words had been in the kitchen, where you and Levi cooked dinner for your quaint little family and she called out to the two of you, begging for attention. And who was Levi to deny his princess? 

You and Levi struggled to find your places in the world after that. Late at night, the two of you often clung to each other for comfort. Though, you knew Isabel’s death was hitting Levi harder than you. You could see it in the way he tucked her Scout badge into the left breast pocket of his shirts, hoping to keep the memory of her close to his heart; the way he avoided every mirror like it was the plague. You could see it in the way he flinched whenever he caught sight of his reflection, his own steel grey eyes and matted black hair staring hauntingly back at him. 

Isabel had taken after her father the most, afterall. 

You also found Levi’s features a bit hard to look at after that. It was hard to look into his eyes and see your daughter staring right back at you with a pleading look to not leave. There had been late night conversations where Levi assured you he knew of his similarities to Isabel and promised to not be mad if you wanted to leave him, 'I find it hard to look at myself sometimes.'

But you only held him tighter and stuck closer to his side, washing away any thoughts he had of you leaving him. You married him because you loved him, and nothing could change that. Even if he looked so similar to your lost daughter. 

The Fates also decided to make your lives a bit harder, as if taking away your first born hadn’t been enough suffering to put you both through. Levi had been sent away with Zeke into hiding. Initially, you wanted to go with him, to stick by his side and cling to your life support, but the others hadn’t allowed it. 

Hango could only grip your wrist tight as you watched Levi climb into the carriage and ride away. 

You begged Hange not to leave you alone after that; because you knew if you were left alone for long enough, there would be nothing stopping you from joining your daughter in the afterlife. 

Hange stayed by your side. 

You wanted to vomit. 

You could feel the sickening churn in your stomach as you stared down at the very girl who had stolen the life from your daughter. The images of your daughter clutching on to you tightly and her scared voice begging you to comfort her rang loud in your ears. Your mouth had dried instantly, any one of the thousand of words rattling in your head stopped by the numbness in your mouth. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many words you wanted to exchange with the girl who had taken your child from you. 

You could see Nicolo’s mouth move and his adam's apple bob with every sound he made, but it was all muffled whitenoise as your eyes trained onto the little girl who stared up at you with a look of horror and fear. 

“ . . . kill her,” Nicolo’s voice buzzed in your ears. 

You hadn’t even realised you took the knife from his hands until you heard Hange speak up from behind you. She begged you to put the knife down, to think rationally. 

But how could you? How could your mind think of anything other than harming the girl who was the cause of all your pain? When the girl who murdered your daughter was right in front of you, sitting on her knees, vulnerable. Your heart screamed and thrashed against the veins that held it in place for you to stab her, to make her feel the same pain your baby had to go through. 

But then she looked up at you. Her eyes were wide with the same fear and pleading look your daughter had in her final moments. You dropped the knife, your shoulders shaking as your eyes lined with unshed tears. 

“Kill a child. . . you- you want me to kill a child. . .” Armin stared at you from the side as your shoulders sagged and a few tears escaped your eyes, and he couldn’t help but realize how tired you looked. As if the weight the world had placed on your shoulders was finally catching up to you and your body struggled to carry it any longer. 

“I can’t do that. She’s a child. Someone’s daughter.” You collapsed to the floor, your hands digging to the carpet underneath you, “I can’t kill a child, not while I know what it feels like to lose your own. I can’t put another mother through the same pain I’m in. I just- can’t.” 

Hange kneeled next to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her lips pressed into a thin line and sympathy swimming in her eyes for her friend who had lost her world. You looked back up to Gabi and she nearly flinched with how broken and tired your eyes looked, “I can only hope she’s found peace in the afterlife. . . 

“I can only hope the Goddesses of Fate are kind to her soul.”  

[onceupona-chaos]

Feathers and dawn (part II)

Day 18 of Elriel month/ Teach me how to fly

You can read part I here.

"Spread your wings." 

The moment Elain opened her wings, the cold, impetuous wind hit them, and the full impact made her lose balance, almost falling backwards. Instead, she met Azriel's chest, his hands tightened on her waist, and her body went cold and hot all at once.

This time Elain did stop breathing. 

WC: 4164/ Warnings: Language

(I had so much fun writing this! As usual, sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Sorry for any typos as well, but I can't look at it anymore lol)

Elain had held that light inside of her with everything she got, and even so it came close to controlling her rather than the other way around.

She still could feel it, not the light that shone so bright to blind someone's eyes, but more like a gracious flame of a candle in her chest. But that was nothing compared to how the muscles on her back burned.

When her eyes cracked open, she was half expectant that all of it had been a delirious dream or one of those visions that still hunted her from time to time. But then she tried to move to a sit position, and a scream escaped from her throat at the very, very real pain punishing her upper body.

Her entire back was sore, and she could feel a complex extension of muscles - from her neck to the end of her spine - that was now linked to two massive weights coming out of her shoulder blades.

Excruciating, blinding pain.

Elain didn't notice the tears falling down her cheeks, couldn't even hear the sounds coming out of her own mouth.

Strong, calloused hands were pushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead a second later, and then Azriel’s beautiful face was there.

He was like a hiding spot in the middle of a storm, anchoring her from her agony, even though his expression was contorted in worry.

Azriel's eyes were wild, lips forming her name, but she couldn't hear a sound. Pain was all she knew, making her senses numbed.

Black dots started to dance in front of her eyes, her head getting light, and hazel ones full of terror was the last thing she saw before the world bleed into darkness again.

_______________

The next time Elain emerged to consciousness, first she smelled the leafy odor of salvia. Then the feeling of gentle, experienced hands massaged the line of her spine while she was lying on her stomach.

Heavy eyelids opened to the Velaris sunset, shades of pink and purple coloring the blue sky were visible through the familiar floor to ceiling windows, making her recognize her room in the river house.

Elain caught a movement from the corner of her eyes, and she inclined her head slightly to see Azriel, kneeling beside her bed, worry still printed in his face, but his eyes filled with relief now.

His hair was in complete disarray, the dark locks pointed in different directions as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly.

“You’re awake,” he breathed.

Those hands, unfamiliar hands, were still rubbing her exposed back, the gentle touch soothing the pain.

“That’s Majda, she’s almost finishing.” Azriel must have sensed her confusion. “How’s the pain?”

Her mouth was dry and it was an effort just to make words come out of it. “Tolerable” she said, voice raw.

He just nodded and then they fell in a comfortable silence. It was always like this with him - no need for empty words.

Azriel just stayed there in his vigil, shadows curling around his ankles, watching her with those familiar hazel eyes. Not the blazing gold of Cassian's, but rather an embrace shared between warm brown and stark gray, with hues of emerald green that would stand out according to his mood.

Eyes as complex as Azriel's himself, candidly observing her whilst Majda worked, her hands putting the exact amount of pressure to soothe her muscles, the salvia tuning the sharp pain into a dull ache. She didn't touch Elain's wings.

Wings.

Even with their weights on her back, even with the feeling of that warm power in her chest, Elain still was prone to believe it all had been a dream if it wasn't for the pain.

When Majda finished the healing massage, she merely told them she'd come back the next few days to do it again.

The bedroom’s door clicked shut, and Elain was already trying to get up, Azriel immediately protesting, "You should stay in bed.”

"I want to see them" was her only reply. She needed to see, to look at them. To know they were real.

"Your muscles aren't strong enough to support the new weight -"

Indeed, when she tried to stand, her balance wavered and she toppled forward.

Azriel caught her before she could fall on her face, hauling her up. Gently, one of his hands passed behind her knees, the other around her waist, and he scooped her up.

Elain let her head fall against his chest, breathing his scent as he walked through the room. A few moments later, far more than was necessary to reach her mirror, he put her down, but remained close.

She didn't see her pale face or even care about the fact that she was wearing nothing, but a nightgown that reached the middle of her thighs. Not when two massive wings rested on the floor behind her, the soft, white feathers touching the carpet.

Elain turned around to see her back, to see the point where the skin ended and the feathering began.

They were beautiful.

But she never had felt more unworthy of something. She couldn’t even hold them up, couldn't even lift them from the ground. It had been so exhausting spent months trapped in that murky realm, visions blending together with reality, that she hadn’t want find out what else the Cauldron had given her, hadn't want to touch that flame burning in her chest, not when her own body felt foreign and now -

Only when she felt tears dripping onto her chest, Elain realized she was crying, exhaustion falling upon her as a blanket, covering her to the bones.

She stood there for enough time that the next time Azriel spoke, she had almost forgotten he was there.

Almost.

Because she always seemed to sense whenever he was around.

"I will teach you everything."

It didn't sound like an offer at all. His words were a promise.

Slowly she turned from the mirror to face him - and nearly sobbed at how lovely and fiercely his eyes were, almost shining with sheer compassion.

Compassion for her, yes. But also for an Illyrian boy who didn't know how to fly, who found himself all alone in a war camp long ago. "I'll be with you and I'll teach you everything."

She didn’t know what to say, what to make of everything. So Elain only took his hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing firmly.

But then, a thought struck her. "Truth-Teller," she gasped.

A smile curved his lips. "It's with me," he said. "I went back to the Cave. Turns out, without the Orb, the wards were gone."

Relief washed over her. And guilty.

"I'm sorry. I should - ."

Before she could finish her sentence, Elain was again in his arms. Azriel chuckled, but hadn't missed how heavy her eyelids were getting. "Not your fault. You weren't exactly in position to remember it," he said while gently carrying her back to bed.

But before he could lay down the mattress, he stopped by the side of the bed, and turned to look at her. Every ounce of amusement gone.

"I thought…" his words died and he shook his head.

No trace of that mask he so often used, no sign of his usually neutral expression.

The look on his face was Azriel in his most raw state. And she could see it.

I thought I had lost you.

She wished she wasn't so tired as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed, "I know."

He nodded. He understood.

He murmured as he lay her in the bed, "Sleep. I still owe Nesta an explanation."

Elain smiled sleepily, and mumbled, "Good luck."

Just when darkness came to claim her once again, Elain felt the ghost touch of a light kiss in her temple and the smell of mist and cedar. ___________

The next day, Elain was sitting at her usual spot by the window of the living room in the river house, the Orb laying on a desk right in the center of the room. What was unusual, however, was the many pairs of eyes glued to her.

Cassian's jaw was still on the floor by the time Amren, the last one to arrive, entered the room. Even her face went a bit slack when she took in the wings and some emotion sparkled in her silver eyes.

Elain tried not to blush, but all that attention wasn't helping.

Although Feyre had helped her before to retract and summon her wings, which she was grateful for, Elain didn't want to summon them in front of everyone, so she decided to just get straight to the point.

She didn’t know how Azriel explained what had happened to the others, especially to Nesta. But given the look on her face fixed on Rhysand and on the spymaster, a perfect I Will Slay My Enemies look, according to Cassian, Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

But as for now Azriel just held her sister's gaze, his face neutral.

"So…" Cassian began, waving a hand towards her wings. "What the hell?"

"I think what he's trying to ask you is," Nesta gave a look at her mate. "Where did those come from?"

Elain took a deep breath. "Well..." She bit her lip, trying to choose her words in order to make sense. "After I found out what I was, I've never accessed the full extension of my powers. I knew the Cauldron had given me something else,something more, but I didn't want to find out what it was."

Rhysand asked, "Why."

"Because I was too scared," She replied honestly. That was all she could say. She didn't want to, didn't know if she could relive those days when she couldn't tell reality and dreams apart.

She glimpsed at Azriel, who was at the corner of the room, sorrow shining on his face while he gave her a reassurance nod.

"So when I grabbed the Orb, it… whatever powers I have just grumbled in answer, as if they were the same… they came to the surface. It tried to stop them, push them back, to let go of the Orb, but I couldn't… it trapped me"

"That's because they are the same," Amren said. As soon as the words left her mouth, Elain understood what lay on her eyes: recognition.

"What wicked sort of plans the Cauldron may have for the three of you," Amren went on, nodding to Elain and her sisters.

"Amren," Rhysand said, the voice of the High Lord. "If you know something, just tell us."

The petite female gave him a hard look, before turning to Elain. "The Cauldron didn't make you any Seer." Amren tilted her head, studied Elain. "He also happened to make you an Oracle." Her eyes were practically two blazing stars, and Elain had to fight a shiver, before asking "An Oracle?"

"That 's right, girl."

"What's the difference?" Nesta demanded.

"A different group of Seers… powerful ones", Rhysand murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I thought they were just a myth."

"They were as real as you and me, Rhysand," Amren said, shaking her head.

It was Feyre's time to demand, "Someone please explain."

"Before the High Lords, there was a time where this world lived in complete, unshakable peace," Amren began. "The Oracles were the great responsibles for this time of harmony, a group of Seers who used to celebrate life and pulled the threads of Fate. They travel through words just like we travel between courts, using their Seer powers to See and manipulate the future to their will… to prevent any cause of conflict before it even became a conflict. Subtle, swift creatures those females"

Elain wasn't sure if anyone in the room was breathing.

Azriel asked quietly, "How did they disappear?"

"No one truly knows." Rhysand answered. "The legends don't go that far."

"Common Seers have the gift of sight, but it's limited in its own way," Amren explained. "Oracles, however, have other sort powers as well and they can see further in the future, no matter how distant."

There was one question in Elain's mind, essencial and terrifying. "What is my power?"

Amren's smile was a thing of pure wickedness. "I guess you'll have to find out."

"But why the wings?" Nesta asked, brows furrowed.

Amren eyes softened a little. "Some claimed some of them heritaged from an unknown race of warriors. But not every one of them had wings. If you were blessed with them, they would call you the Leader. The others would fly on their winged horses by her side, travelling through the world and maintaining their balance."

Elain's head was spinning. "But what about the Orb?"

"I might have an idea, but I'll need to do some research in the Helion's libraries first." Rhysand shot his mate a look, his lips curving. "Care to join?"

Feyre only rolled her eyes.

Cassian let out a long breath. "So you're telling me Elain could see if a war is truly coming and stop it before it even begins."

A sick feeling gathered on her stomach, and she blurted, "No."

Silence.

"No what?" Amren asked thighly.

"No, I won't use my powers to play with Fate." She couldn't help the edge of rage in her words. "Espeacilly not when Fate itself had been playing with me all along."

Silence fell.

"You're right," Feyre offered at last, her voice soft. "It's your choice."

Gratitude washed over Elain.

"I want to learn how to fly, though" she blurted, glancing at Azriel, who was already smiling.

Feyre looked between them. "You'll find Azriel has… harsh methods, but they are quite efficient."

Rhysand, who had been just observing, suggested, "Maybe you, Feyre darling, can teach Elain, too."

"I will train her." Azriel's words were practically a snarl, challenge filling every one of them.

Elain looked at the shadows gathering around him as he stared at Rhysand, who just narrowed his eyes back. Strange.

"I'm sure Azriel is the better option to teach Elain, he was the one who taught me after all." Feyre was looking pointly at her mate. "But I can participate in a few lessons when they get tired of training alone." She said looking at Elain, eyes shining bright with an edge of mischief.

Elain ignored that.

"You'll have to build some muscles, you know that, right?" Cassian asked.

Muscles. It wasn't that Elain was opposed to that, but… she couldn't see herself as a warrior like her sisters. Surely, she wouldn't mind learning one thing or two, but...

"I'll help you."

Elain turned to her older sister, with raised brows. "I don't…"

"You don't have to learn how to use a sword, but I can help with your core muscles," Nesta offered.

Then, Elain couldn't stop the warmth in her chest - not from that source of power, but from pure gratitude. "Thank you."

Amren shocked her head and huffled a breath, edged with amusement, making Elain's brows furrow at that.

"A Made, reborn Fae and a Valkyrie training a new Oracle." Her lips curved in a feral smile. "Three Cauldron-blessed sisters, indeed."

Elain didn't have to use the Orb to know Fate had listened to Amren's words.

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

"Shit."

Azriel's curse hit Elain's ears, before her arm hit the rock as she fell on her face right into the lake.

They had been training for weeks now. At first, it was more about how to summon her wings and keep them up instead of resting on the ground.

Sometimes Feyre would join them, or even Nuala and Cerridwen made an appearance for what Cerridwen called "emotional support".

Which means they watched as Elain jumped just to fall right into that gods-damned lake and tried not to laugh. Cerridwen often failed spectacularly at that.

But after one particularly hard training lesson that ended up with more bruises Elain would care to admit, especially to her pride, Cerridwen had come to her room with a gift: a brand new and very pink apron with a winged fawn carefully embroidered at the front, the chain stitches meticulous done.

It was the most ridiculous apron Elain had ever seen - and she wore every chance she got with a stupid smile on her face.

But most of the time it was only Azriel and her. First they would stick to training, and she was able to focus only on the lessons. Until one day they had sat side by side at the shore, talking about everything and nothing, and, gods, she had missed him.

But then she felt that ravenous pull towards him and had to look away, before she could do something stupid again - and just like that she remembered why they had kept their distance in the first place.

She knew he desired her just as she desired him. She had seen the longing in his face, and had smelled his scent that night, darker than usual. Had read the hunger shining in his eyes as he looked at her.

But she had crossed a line he didn't want to cross.

Good thing now she had other things to worry about. Like ignoring the pain in her left arm, finding her way to the surface to get the hell out of that chilling lake.

But before she could do any of those things, Elain found herself looking at the sky and then the ground was beneath her.

And a very, very shirtless Azriel was by her side. "Are you alright?" he asked, wrapping his tunic around her shoulders, scanning for injuries.

Even with her teeth almost chattering off her mouth from the cold, Elain couldn't help but take one good look at his muscled chest, those intricate tattoos on display and she felt her face heating. Not from embarrassment, but from pure desire that was pounding in her blood, traveling through her body. All she wanted in that moment, and so many before that, was to touch him, taste him. Be with him, by his side.

She imagined what would be like to have that powerful body hovering over hers.

Then she blushed a bit at those thoughts, too.

"I"m fine," she blurted after a considerable time, enough to make Azriel blush as well. And make her consider throwing herself at the lake again.

To distract herself, Elain closed her eyes and accessed that flame in her chest, letting it shine bright inside her, waves of heat running through her veins and bones until she was no longer cold.

When she looked at Azriel, he was already watching her. He cleaned his throat. "You kept yourself on the air longer this time."

Elain raised an eyebrow, "I fell on the only rock in this entire river."

A gleam shone in his eyes.

Elain narrowed hers at him.

"Are you trying not to laugh?"

"No," he said, clapping his lips together.

Every pound of desire in her blood died. "You said it wasn't funny anymore after the first four times!"

At that, Azriel tipped his head back and busted out such a rich laugh, that even Elain couldn't stop the small smile on her own lips. "You are a terrible teacher."

Except that he wasn't. Azriel was patient and thoughtful. He had refused to let her practice anywhere but the lake, and when she said she didn't need to be coddled and could practice on land, he had scanned her face, so many emotions passing across his, and told her he wouldn't see her getting hurt.

So they practice on the lake. Every day.

That was weeks ago and Elain was starting to think she would never take to the skies. She still couldn't sustain herself on the air for more than a few seconds.

"What is it like? To fly, I mean." she asked, eyes fixing on the lake before her.

She felt Azriel's eyes on her. "It 's freedom." Truth echoed in his words.

Elain nodded to herself. "I can hear the wind calling me." Her wing ruffled as if in emphasis."I can feel every muscle in my body begging me to jump out of the windows and it just… it's getting harder to ignore."

Elain tried to stop the burning in her eyes, her voice was broken when she breathed, "Why me, if I can't even get close to being airborne for more than five seconds?"

Azriel kept silent for so long, she didn't know if he heard her, but she was too much of a coward to look at him. Didn't want to look at him, not like this, not again.

But then gentle fingers found her chin and slowly turned her head to meet hazel eyes shining bright as the sun above them.

"Come with me."

Next thing she knew she was taking his extended hand and he shot to the skies, his tunic flying from her shoulders while she was being cradled against his bare chest.

Even though he was made of muscles hard as rock, his skin was warm and soft as the finest velvet.

Azriel landed right on the top of one of the highest mountains surrounding Velaris, the city bursting with life so far below that it seemed one of Nyx's toys.

And Elain almost stopped breathing. "Are you going to push me?"

Azriel chuckled, but didn't answer. "Turn around and close your eyes."

"So you definitely are going to push me," she murmured, but did as she was told.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't Azriel's large hands on her waist or the warmth of his body behind her.

"Spread your wings."

The moment Elain opened her wings, the cold, impetuous wind hit them, and the full impact made her lose balance, almost falling backwards. Instead, she met Azriel's chest and his hands tightened on her.

This time Elain did stop breathing.

Especially when Azriel's breath caressed the

shell of her ear. "Focus on the wind passing through your wings, how each feather answers to it. Try to understand its direction, its temperature."

So she did. And she could feel it. She could feel the most external layer of feathers absorbing the temperature impact of the icy wind. Could feel the most little plumes, so sensitive they could perceive the slight change in any air current direction.

She became aware of everything around her. But mostly of the heat emanating from Azriel's body on her back, of his thumbs now drawing small circles on her sides.

"When I was a boy, I used to think the same thing as you do now," he whispered. "I was locked away and had to suppress so many instincts…" He let out a breath. "These wings are yours and only yours, you command them. It might take some time, but you will fly and control your powers. Be patient. You can do whatever you want, Elain."

It was his words, the meaning. He believed in her, had always believed in her.It was that certainty that had her leaning into his touch.

She folded in her wings and tilted her head, slowly opening her eyes to find his beautiful face inches from hers, close enough for her to see the hues of green in his eyes.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Azriel said nothing. No, he just let every word shine in his gaze as he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers while his thumbs were still caressing her sides leisurely.

She sucked in a breath, eyes falling close as she lost herself at the pure intimacy of that touch. Elain's whole body went molten and she wanted nothing more than to melt against his chest.

But she couldn't cross that line again.

So she pulled back, just enough to look at his face and made herself say, "I think Nesta is waiting for me."

Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. "Right."

On their way to the House of Wind, she thought Azriel would keep silent but he surprised her when he said quietly, "Nuala and Cerridwen never told me you were training with them."

Despite everything, a faint smile curved Elain's lips. "You can't expect to know everyone secrets."

He lifted an eyebrow. "That's my job."

And Nuala and Cerridwen's, too.

"I don't want to be a warrior," Elain blurted. "But… maybe I can use my gifts - my sight gifts, I mean - to..."

A whisper of those shadows still filled his gaze, but Azriel gave her a small smile. "Like spying?"

Elain blushed. "Perhaps."

"You'd make a good spy, but you have to be patient."

Elain looked at him. At that male who had intrigued her and made her feel comfortable and safe from the very beginning. At that male who found her when no one else would, who had seen her. Had truly seen her.

No, she wouldn't cross that line now, but...

"I can be patient, Azriel," she breathed. Promised.

This time, hope shone so brightly in his hazel eyes that no room was left for shadows.

[doubleshotofsomething]

To Hell & Back

Part Three: “I don’t scare you and I guess that’s why”

Summary: You attempts at payback keep getting ruined. Somehow, you keep needing the same idiot you hate.

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Warnings: Swearing. [Also typos, probably. Which shall be repaired by tomorrow]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

---

Series Masterlist [in case you missed the other ones]

----

"Good morning-" your customer service smile widens just a smidge, "-what can I get ya?"

Bucky narrows his eyes, lips tightening into a thin line as he looks over you. Even with the counter between you and the little fluff in his hand, he still manages to look intimidating.

You're trying your best to not show how much the sight of him, angry and inconvenienced, pleases you. It's a mission, but you keep your professional façade intact.

"I'm going to throw you off the roof." He growls, adjusting his arm as he glares at you. "Then I'm gonna dance on your grave."

"That doesn't sound familiar," you say coyly, tilting your head to the side. "Is that some kind of latte?"

There is a line forming behind him and your co-workers are you giving the both of you side-eyes. Bucky doesn't seem to care, his blue eyes flashing with what you can only hope is anger. You don't care either, you warned him and he didn't listen.

"You took my parking space-" he dumps the white fluff onto the counter between you. "-my fucking parking space."

You shrug. "You made me drink filter coffee."

He glowers. "That justifies your actions?"

"Filter," you emphasize, gently nudging the little fur ball towards him. "Filter fucking coffee, Barnes. Do you know what that shit does to a person?"

You can hear one of your co-workers mumble an "oh, here we go" and you shoot them a glare. Turning back to the mammoth in front of you, you nudge his gift back to him.

"Excuse me-" Bucky turns around, giving you a clear view of the old man behind him. "-some of us have things to do. Can you two hurry the fuck up?"

You both blink at the man, completely unfazed, then turn back to each other. He shoves the cat back to you and it lets out a disgruntled out.

"Take your cat and go home," you gently push it back to him.

"I don't have a cat." He pushes it back.

"Your parking space disagrees." You pick it up and put it in his arms.

He narrows his eyes, holding the cat. "That was just cruel, even for you, doll."

"Not a doll."

"I will be taking your parking space."

"I don't have one-" you grin. "-no car, no space. Also, you can't prove I took your parking space."

His nostrils flare. "Who else would put this-" he gestures to the furball clinging onto him, "-in a box and put it where my bike is supposed to be?!"

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Then frown. "Wait, why do you have a car and a bike?"

"Seriously?"

You nod. "Yeah, I keep forgetting to ask you about that-"

"Sweetheart, I'm going to drop you off in Australia after this-" your heart nearly plummets at the thought and you glare at him. "-and that's your concern, right now? The car and the bike?"

You don't question why or how he knows Australia is on your list of murder sites. You also don't question why the way he just called you sweetheart makes you want things you shouldn't.

You're about to respond, something snarky that will piss him off even more, when the same guy interrupts again.

"Hey!" He rounds and stands next to Bucky, glaring you both down. "Listen, I didn't beat morning traffic for some coffee only to have some gym buff flirt up the cashier."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot up. He tries to blink back the shock, but he can't.

Flirt? With you? He could never disrespect you like that. Not at your job. Never like this.

You have worked with, and for, people like that for the longest of time. So you're not surprised by the tantrum the man throws.

However, you're running low on patience at the moment.

"Sir-"you glare at the man, "-this man, right here, is a war hero. A veteran. The reason half the world is back. You owe your life to him. So if you're gonna be an asshole-"

Bucky cuts in. "Doll, it's oka-"

"Shut your trap, Barnes!" You hiss at him, before turning back to the man. "If you're gonna be an asshole and accuse him of flirting with me, then call him Sergeant - not gym buff. Now, get the fuck out of my shop before I have him throw you out!"

The man sputters, random words flying out of his mouth as he scrambles to form a sentence. Bucky grimaces at the sight and turns back to you.

"That wasn't necessary-"

"He called me a cashier."

He pauses, then nods. You were a barista first, manager second - you worked far too hard on that promotion to be demoted publicly by an asshole - and spiteful third.

You would rather let your neighbour call you Doll, than let a stranger assume your job title.

"Fair point. I'll take a coffee while I wait for you-"

You slit your eyes. "What kind of coffee, Barnes?" You grit the words out.

It's not a question, it's a warning. One he blatantly ignores as he adjusts the kitten in his arm.

He gives you a smile, the most innocent smile you've ever seen on that face of his. And that's saying a lot, you've seen all his smile and none of them are this deceiving.

A pit forms in your stomach at the glint in his eyes. Utter betrayal.

"I swear to god, if you say filter-"

"Decaf." He cuts you off, a sweet smile on his face. "I'll take decaf."

---

You had wiped down the counter three times, before finishing with your queue. Then took over making the drinks, while everyone else worked the registers.

If Bucky wasn't sure that you were making him wait on purpose, the fact that you let everyone else take their breaks first was confirmation enough.

Once you were sure he had been stewing for long enough, you took your fifteen minutes.

With a bottle of water and an empty ice cream cup, you move to the little corner booth in the back. Bucky leans back, eyeing your hands, as you approach.

"That's all you're gonna eat?" Is his question as you sit down.

"Not for me," you pour water into the cup and nudge it towards him. "It's for your new friend. Or roommate. Or whatever it is you called 'em back in the day."

He rolls his eyes, gently picking up the cat from his lap and placing it on the table. He nudges the water closer to cat.

"Now," you fold your arms on the table and rest your chin on them, watching the little thing make it's way to the water. "Tell me more about this fuzzball."

Bucky frowns and shifts slightly in his chair, slowly analysing you. You don't notice, too busy focused on the cat that shouldn't be in the shop.

For a moment, you have this wondrous look in your eye as you watch. It's there for a short moment, then it's gone. He wants it back. In your eyes, where it should always be.

You chance a look at him. "The cat?"

"Why aren't you eating?" He counters. "Isn't it your break?"

"No, it's not for another three hours." You straighten in your seat. "This is just a breather, so use it wisely."

"Okay, then what will you be eating in three hours?"

You sigh, folding your arms and leaning in your seat. "Are you asking me out for lunch, Barnes?"

He bristles. Not because of the question, but the use of his last name. He prefers Bucky, you know he does, but he's gotten so accustomed to you calling him anything other than Bucky that it worries him.

"No," he states.

Not lunch. That's not enough time, it's never enough time.

Dinner. That's a definite. Nights are longer, and you don't have to rush back to work after. It's not enough time either, but it's a gateway to breakfast. So, not lunch. Never lunch.

"Then?" You raise an eyebrow.

He retaliates by raising his. "Will you be eating lunch or working through it?"

You stare at him, eyes flicking between both blues. He stares back, something you've noticed he's good at. And knowing that stirs something inside you, something you wish you could drown.

"Yes, Barnes-" you sigh. "-I will be eating lunch."

"Good."

"I always figured Blondilocks was the mom friend of your death squad. Guess I was wrong."

Blondilocks is a nickname you reserved for Steve. It used to piss him off, but now he realises how fitting it is.

He chooses to ignore your remark. "Now, let's talk about the parking space and the cat."

"I'm innocent."

"No, you're not." He glares. "You threatened to take my parking space and now you took it."

"I plead the fifth."

"And you involved a cat. What am I supposed to do with a cat?"

"I want a lawy–" you pause, his words seeming to echo in your head. You sit up and place your hands on the table. "–wait a minute. What did I do with what cat?"

Bucky points at the kitten laying on the table. You're not seated by a window, but the rays of sunlight still reach your table – much to the furball's delight.

"The cat in my parking space." He says it like you're supposed to know what he's talking about.

Which is both amusing and upsetting, because you don't.

You blink at him. "I didn't put a cat in your parking space."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't. I put something else in the parking space–" you claim, your mind flashing with the images of plates of tampon-stuffed jelly that you placed on his parking space. "–but not a living creature. I'd never abandon a living, breathing thing in a basement parking lot for payback. I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

It's Bucky's turn to be confused. The only reason he was there, at your work, was because he tried to park his car – only to find a large box in the middle of his parking spot. Inside the box, was a small pillow and bowl of milk, next to what looked like a small, white fluffy tennis ball.

He thought it was you. It made sense. The thing inconvenienced him, like something you would make sure to do. And it was added responsibility that you knew he never wanted. So, of course he thought it was you. It had to be.

"Wait, so all you found was a cat?" You frown, clearly annoyed at that little fact.

Bucky nods slowly, confused that it wasn't you. Who else could it be, if not you?

You huff. "So... You didn't get my surprise gift to you? At all?"

"There was a cat," he explains again. "In a box. That's it."

"Now that's just fucking disrespectful!" You're beyond pissed now. "I spent the entire night on those dishes."

"No need to be dramati–"

"Barnes–" you flash your eyes at him, picking up the table's salt shaker and pointing it at him. "I will use this."

His eyes narrow. "I'm not a demon–"

"I," your eyes narrow further, "will use this."

---

There's banging on your door. Loud and insistent. You don't need to ask, to know who it is.

You're also very, very aware of the fact that your mother somehow got a copy of your keys. You called her out on it, one Saturday Session, gross invasion of privacy was the term you used.

Somehow, those words twisted into something far more sinister and you left your childhood home feeling worse than you did when you walked in.

You hated those five years. Watching your mother mourn both your sister and father did things to you, things no one should ever have to go through. But watching your sister's husband –  a man you used to respect – turn into everything you hate, that had to have been the worst of it all.

You hated those five years, you hated the Avengers for not winning too. But now, with everyone back, you wish they'd lost again.

"Psst," you're on your balcony, hoping your neighbour's super serum gave him superhearing. "Barnes."

You slipped out the glass door the moment you heard a key being slipped into your front door locks. You guess your mother is either with your sister, or she gave her a copy of your keys. You made sure to close it on your way out, and hid out of sight.

"Barnes," you whisper again, "Barnes, open up. I will freeze to death out here."

A soft click sounds, followed by your neighbour's glass door opening a fraction. He sticks his head out, a frown on his face as he eyes you.

"Wha–" he inspects your attire, the only light coming from a street pole a few blocks away. "–why aren't you wearing pants?"

You stick your hand out, wiggling your fingers at him. "I will cat sit for you, if you can hide me."

The barrier, a makeshift fence, between your balconies reaches his waist in height. But you have no upper body strength so pulling yourself over it will lead to a disaster, and the amount of noise that will expose your hiding place.

Sighing, he steps out onto the balcony and gently shuts the door behind him.  It takes you moment to realise he's shirtless, and in sweatpants, then another to realise you've never seen him shirtless and in sweatpants.

You're staring. Gawking. And it's shameful, but you can't seem to pull yourself together.

It's unsettling for him, the way you're looking at him. He clears his throat but you don't seem to hear it, too far in your own mind apparently.

Your hand, the one you'd held out for him, slowly lowers to the railing and you blink. The cold air nips at your skin and you have to force yourself to look up at his eyes.

Big mistake. You think as your breath hitches, he looks like he wants to throw you off the roof, but your heart flutters a bit at the sight of his little pout.

The corner of your lips twitch. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," you begin, "you just... You do look like a gym buff in those pants."

He glares. "You gonna stare all night or what?"

You wish you could find that little part of you that wants to say yes, just so you could throw her off that balcony.

This time, you lift both your arms up and pout. "Or what."

Gentle hands grip your waist, warm and cold, and hoist you over the railing. Bucky gently sets you down, your mismatched socks barely warming your feet against the cold metal.

"This is the weirdest booty call I've ever had," you muse, trying to keep your mind off of his hands on you.

He scoffs, taking a step back. "Pretty sure that's my line, Doll–"

"–not a Doll."

"–and  I'm pretty sure this is more of a home invasion, than a booty call."

"You would know."

Sighing, he squeezed passed you to open the door. "Ladies first."

You curtsey and practically leap inside when you catch a glimpse of your glass door opening. A sharp pain slices through your arm as you land on your side.

Bucky is about to rush in, to ask if you're alright, to see if you've actually lost the remainder of your mind. Because you must have.

"Oh."

He shivers, in the worst way, at the sound of your sister's voice and is forced to abandon all thoughts of checking on you. Schooling his face takes priority now.

He turns around, grimacing slightly at her shocked expression. "Hey."

"Uh-uh–" she stammers, eyes that match yours scanning every inch of him as she does. "–uh-uh-"

Nodding, he sighs. "Yeah, sorry–" she's not the first to react like this. He's just glad that your staring didn't result in that. "–I came out for some fresh air. I should've known someone would think to do the same."

Your sister's gaping only seizes when her husband's voice echoes from your apartment. Of course she'd bring her husband.

"Oh," the asshole repeats, stepping out onto the balcony. "Hey, man. What's up?"

Bucky shrugs, forcing a smile. "I didn't know you guys were over. Woulda stopped by and said hi, if I knew."

"Oh," your sister lets a nervous laugh, waving the thought away. "No, no. We were just in the area and wanted to stop by. Ya know, check on her."

Bullshit.

They came because of the poisoned muffins.

Bucky doesn't need to force the smile anymore. "Oh, that's great. How is she?"

This is probably the first time they've managed to leave their place. Or else they would have been there earlier in the week.

The asshole shrugs. "I hope we didn't make dinner uncomfortable for you on Saturday," he adds instead. "We really enjoyed your company."

"Hmm." Bucky nods, still smiling. Near grinning now. By the third twitch of lips, he knows he has to get back inside before it's too late. "Well, goodnight."

He thought the torture was when he had to walk back, slowly, into his own place without breaking down. Then closing the door at a slow pace, as not to give anything away.

But as soon as he turned around, as soon as he saw you sitting on the floor, on his impromptu bed. Legs criss-cross, kitten by your feet, and cup of coffee in your hands. Everything changed.

"Helped myself to some coffee," you whisper, cradling the cup closer to your lips.

Torture would be the following night, and the nights after that. Where he would walk into his apartment, and not find you there – like this.

"Fuck."

----

TAGS :D : @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel , @arctic-duchess , @sltwins , @thewayilookatbacon , @buckyisperfect , @paryl

[darkestdesired]

The Gladiators Prize

@bugmanor

Warning:Smut,Water sex,swearing,Felix being a sexy and clingy Beast,Poor little reader never stood a chance.

Request: NSFW Felix x Innocent/Shy S/o.

An:I am so so so sorry this is so late,I hope this is ok! It's been a while since I've written smut but i am kind of happy with how this came out.

Gladiators had always been my favorite thing to study in history class,they were usually more beast than man.The stories always ended two ways but always with death,Either the lion or the man were leaving that arena alive.

Most of the time it was the lion.

But i never thought I'd actually get the chance to meet one in real life,That was until i found out that my entire college history class was going to the city of Volterra to visit some of the many wonders it had to offer. I was absolutely stoked,i was living by myself and had been wanting to move there my whole life,I was even saving up and nearly had enough.Might as well see what it had in store for me.

The plane ride over was exhausting but i was so glad when our bus finally arrived,Mrs.Gillard whistled to get everyones attention."Alright everyone,our hotel rooms aren't ready yet so why don't you all check out the shops while we wait." There was a wave of relief filled sighs throughout the group causing her to roll her eyes.She was always such a mean woman. I wondered around next to a few shops before deciding to lean against the wall of an alley,pulling out my favorite book about gladiators and blocking out the ouside world.

"Hello there gorgeous,what is someone as stunning as you doing here all alone?" I heard a deep voice ask,Looking up my face heated up immediately as i saw the devilishly handsome man infront of me.He was like a giant compared to me,but he seemed a bit starstruck as well as our eyes met.

"I-I uh.." It was as if my brain had completely shut down,he didn't seem to mind though since he chuckled."Didn't mean to surprise you cara mia,I simply saw a living goddess and wished to introduce myself." He reached over and gently took my hand in his before bending down and making a show of keeping eyecontact as he kissed my knuckles."You smell absolutely heavenly my dear,and what might your name be?" He said in a gruff sultry voice causing my knees to grow weak. "My n-Name is (Y/n)" i said like the utter mess that i was. He smirked down at me and stepped closer,i dropped my book and tried to move back but i was already against the wall.He listed his arms and successfully trapped me between his hulking body and the brick,The cape he wore blocked me from view from the wondering people that walked around outside.

"Such a lovely name..(Y/n).." My name rolled off his tongue like it was his lifes mission to make me faint from bliss. "My name is Felix Volturi Cara Mia,I suggest you remember it." I gulped,"And why is that..?" His eyes chuckled as what sounded like the mix between a growl and purring erupted from his throat."Because you will be screaming it soon enough."

This is it..This is how i die,i thought as he leaned his face closer,his eyes dark with lust."You are mine.." He purred.Something in me urged me to let go and live in the moment,But the sound of one of my classmates yelling my name broke me out of my trance. With a flustered face i quickly moved his cape and dove under his arm,not even attempting to look at him in fear that i might fully lose control.

He watched as i ran out of the valley and out of sight,bending down he picked up my book.He sniffed the book and purred at my scent,He chuckled when he saw the title of the book."Mmm we are destined my little flower,You can not hide from me."

Tossing and turning in bed i huffed before sitting up,I had been lucky enough to not have a roomate,but even that joy couldn't suppress the events of the day.I couldn't get felix out of my head,I had never had someone so attractive talk to me before,and especially not like that.Thinking back on it he looked a lot like the gladiators in my book,if i didn't know any better i would have assumed he was one.

Realizing i wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon i decided a nice bath in the tub that seemed more like a pool compared to mine back home would get rid of the heated fantasies that brought a blush to my (S/c) cheeks,Tredding my way into the gorgeous bathroom i undressed on my way there,not even bothering to pick them up on the way, before hopping into the nice steamy water.

I guess that's why i didn't hear the sound of the window opening.

Felix sniffed the air,causing him to lick his lips when he could still smell the traces of my lust,he thanked the gods when he saw my cute but sexy black panties laying onthe floor.Not even hesitating he picking them up and breathed in my scent,barely stopping the growl that threatened to escape.He stuffed them into his pocket before getting undressed,setting his clothes on a chair.There he leaned against the doorframe and watched as i played with myself,i forgot to shut the bathroom door.Since the tub was round i sat with my back to him,Not even realizing the danger i was in.

Sighing in pleasure i added another finger to my tight pussy,"Ah..Mm...Felix..." I moaned. Biting my lip i leaned my head back against the edge of the bath."That's right,say my name again Cara mia." My eyes shot open and i saw Felix standing over me with a sly smirk. Gasping i quickly turned and sat on the other side ,Blushing furiously when i saw the state he was in. "Do not be frightened my love,I told you you are mine." He stepped into the tub until he was knelt between my thighs.

"H-How..How did you get in here..?" I asked,Shaking despite the warm water that engulfed me. He chuckled,"I have my ways,Now let us continue where we left off,Shall we?" Leaning in he captured my lips,he started off gently and waited as i froze with wide eyes.It only took a a few seconds before i melted in and began kissing him back.

From there the kiss got more and more heated,His strangely cold hands grazed at my fragile skin from my shoulders to my breasts,He swallowed my moans as he kneaded my breasts and piched my now perky nipples.My hands held on his braud shoulders for support,Knowing if i let go i would likely sink into the water. Pulling away he licked his lips hungrily as he saw my blazed out expression,"Look at you,So needy for your gladiator hm? Does the idea of such a strong man claiming you turn you on? You are my prize for all of my victories my dear,it is time to claim what is rightfully mine." He pushed his knee forward and smirked,obviously pleased as i began to rut against his thigh involuntarily."That's it,Give into the pleasure." He grinned when he pulled away his knee,eliciting a whine."Do not worry my dear,I will give you what you desire." Grabbing my thighs and wrapping them around his waste he wasted no time in guiding his large member into my aching core.

He hissed and clenched his eyes tight in ecstasy when he was fully sheathed in my warmth,"Fuck..You are so tight my goddess..Tell me..Am i the first man to taint your sacred flesh? Tell me! For i shall hunt down any who has dared to take what is mine." He growled while mercilessly pounding into me once i had gotten used to his size. "N-No..I..I was.." He grinned widely,his dark red eyes glowing as he drowned in the beautiful sound of my moans."You are mine! Do you hear me? No one will dare to even think about taking you from me once i am done with you! Tell me you are mine!I will treat you like a queen." He reached down and grabbed my chin,not to hurt me in the slightest but to force me to look deep into his eyes."I-I am yours! Please Felix..Ahn..hah.." Tears poured down my cheeks,wrapping my arms around his neck he nipped at my neck,causing me to wriggle.

Now that i had accepted him he was going to ensure that i would not be able to walk for the next month.Leaning back he pulled me with him so that i was now riding him,He opted to watch as i bounced on top,enjoying the sight of my breasts bouncing.

"Forget all about the life you have lived before my innocent little mate,i am never letting you go again." I was so blissed out that all i could do was nod,running my hands down his stunning abs.

"Fe-Felix..I'm so close..Please..!"He licked a a stripe up my throat,relishing in the shiver the visibly rolled up my skin."As am i cara mia,Come for me!" With a few more harsh thrusts i felt my body spasm in the most amazing pleasure i had ever felt before.I could hear his grunts as his hands tightened on my thighs,"Fuck...(Y/n)!" He hissed.

I kissed his forehead before burying my head in his shoulder,letting exhaustion take over."All mine." Was the last thing i heard before darkness consumed me.

When i finally awoke i was dressed in an unfamiliar bedroom with my back pressed against a cold chest,arms secured protectively around my waist."Go back to sleep my love,You are home now." Felix's deep comforting voice said against my shoulder causing me to smile."Hmm.." Was my only response as i buried myself deeper into him and drifted back to sleep.

My gladiator kept his word,He never let me go.

[fleckcmscott]

To Have and To Hold

Summary: Y/N makes an oversight at work. The resulting extra hours with Arthur delight them both.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,272

A/N: This story had been kicking around in my head for about two months, but I hadn’t been sure if I was going to write it. Then I read @sweet-nothings04‘s amazing Hand-in-Hand (which you all need to check out, if you haven’t), and knew I had to put it on paper. Thanks to her for the inspiration to finally develop this, and for the title, too!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! 

Perhaps it was the sunshine that stirred her. Or the horns of traffic on congested streets. The hammering of a distant construction site. The chatter and occasional yelling of passersby.  The hum of Gotham awakening.

Y/N blinked in confusion - how could it be so bright this early? - and squinted at the clock at Arthur's side of the bed. No numbers greeted her, just its blank, plastic display. Stretching, she reached to her left for her watch, in its spot by the beige rotary phone on the nightstand.

"Shit!"

Nearly knocking over her glass of water, she clambered off the mattress. Arthur had warned her the lights could go off in his apartment. Not often and not for long. But enough to annoy. Naturally, his building's shoddy electricity had to mess with the alarm today. When she'd stayed up too late. When he'd had to leave ahead of her to commute to the other end of the city for a rare winter gig. When her body had chosen to oversleep in the coziness of his blankets.

Her nylons had never been yanked on with such haste. Arthur had made coffee but she skipped it in favor of brushing her teeth. Pausing on her way out, she took a calcium supplement and grabbed a note from the counter. She read it while riding the wood-paneled, graffiti covered elevator: "Your presentashin will be great. You snored a lot. Good thing your cute. - Arthur." He always signed his name. As though she wouldn't recognize his scrawl. As if anyone else wrote her sweet, sassy missives. She grinned until she hopped on the for-once punctual subway.

The presentation he'd referred to was set for that afternoon. She was expected to discuss the evidence and court file for this week's contested hearing. Last night, she'd sat at Arthur's breakfast bar to compile the case's final details and finish prep sheets. Gently, she'd rebuffed his subtle advances. His attempts to draw her attention from work to him.

Excitement had been palpable as he'd hovered near her. She was fairly certain she knew the cause because it enthused her as well. In three and a half short weeks, he'd be moving in with her. They'd officially begin traversing whatever the future held for them together. Hesitation had been clear in his posture, his drawn shoulders when (after plenty of convincing on her part that yes, she really, really, wanted him) he'd finally accepted the key to her place. But since he'd added it to his own keyring, he'd brightened. Strode a little taller. Walked a little prouder. Touched a little bolder. As though the weight he carried had lessened, at least by a couple cinder blocks' worth.

At his slight pout, she'd decided to find a way to involve him. He'd perched on the stool next to her, rested his cigarette in the pink ashtray to the left, and taken the proffered exhibit stickers with a quirked brow. Y/N had handed him papers, which he'd added labels to for her to write on. Then she'd stacked them in four different piles according to type. It had taken longer than usual - she was faster alone. But the intimacy of sharing the professional elements of her life with Arthur (besides the office wear he liked, claiming it showed how "smart" and "pretty" she was) had tightened her chest. And the curved-up corner of his thin lips had reflected how pleased he was, too.

They hadn't been able to collaborate on everything, however. It was past midnight by the time she'd joined Arthur, who had retreated to the bedroom an hour or so earlier. He'd been sitting against the headboard, half under the cover. The harsh blue light emanating from the old black and white TV at the foot of the bed had sharpened his features. Deepened the set of his eyes. He'd stubbed out his smoke as she closed the door. "I taped The Honeymoon Game. We can watch it when you're here again." A beat. "If you're not busy."

"This is supposed to be my last big project for a month or so." Sighing, she'd gotten her nightgown from her overnight bag. "I didn't mean for it to take all evening." She climbed in next to him and threw her arm across his lap. "I'm sorry."

He'd been stiff. Unyielding. The telltale signs he was miffed or upset. But he'd twined her hair around his finger, let his touch fall to her brow bone. "It's okay," he'd said lowly, adjusting to lie alongside her. "I don't want to be... I'm not being fair."

"You don't have to pretend with me, Arthur. It's all right to be annoyed." Tiredness had pulled at her as she'd fought to watch the rest of Gotham Tomorrow Tonight. The contact of his socked toes to her bare ones had made her smile, though, and she'd nuzzled his bicep. "I missed you," she'd mumbled, then promptly passed out.

The squeal of wheels on metal tracks prompted her to sling her canvas tote onto her shoulder. Shaw & Associates was a short sprint from the nearest station. She was certain she looked ridiculous, running down the street in her high heels. But she managed to slip into the office with two minutes to spare. Once she poured herself a cup of joe and straightened her blazer, she settled in her cushioned chair to get started.

It was only when Matt told her he wanted to meet before lunch that she'd rummaged in her bag. And realized she'd neglected to bring the file. Recalled it was sitting on Arthur's kitchen counter.

Fuck.

Her nails tapped the wood surface of her desk. Excusing herself to the bathroom so she could go retrieve it wouldn't fly. Matt would send a search party. She could try to discuss everything from memory, tell him documents were still being gathered. But he wasn't that oblivious. She settled on owning her error. "It's at home." Her delivery was nonchalant.

He waited until she'd loaded her typewriter with paper, then responded wryly. "You're not supposed to take files home anymore. Remember what happened last time?"

She leaned back as he stepped in front of her. "There was the slew of family cases that came in. With Patricia on leave, I'm handling all our calls and mail. Not to mention paperwork on her filings. It wouldn't have gotten finished if I hadn't taken it." Snorting, she shook her head at herself. Heat bloomed in her neck. "Not that it matters when I don't have it."

Expression softening, Matt stuck his hands in his pockets and jutted his chin at her. "How long did you work on it?"

It was hard to discern if he actually cared about the hours she put in. Or if he merely wanted to gauge the possibility of her doing investigations off the books again, something he'd explicitly prohibited. "I don't know." She waved dismissively. "Three or four hours?"

He let out a huff. "You put in enough time already. Go home at noon. We'll get to it first thing tomorrow."

"I have a lot to do." Her eyes widened at the myriad piles of folders laying around. "And I can't imagine you playing operator."

"I've managed when you've both been in court or at appointments. Besides," he continued as he headed back to his office. "You never take days off."

Straightening, she wheeled her chair to watch him plop down on his leather seat. "I'm taking three days next month," she countered.

His glare contained an unequal mix of mirth and consternation. "Y/N?"

The phone started ringing. She succeeded in making one ear ignore it. "Yes?"

"I know you haven't forgiven me for that whole Renew Corp. thing." She flinched at the casual mention of the company she loathed. Of her failure. But she forced herself to listen. Matt picked up a pen and started writing. “Rather than being stubborn, try saying, 'You're right.'"

~~~~~

Y/N stood in front of the narrow, white stove, stirring the soup she'd thrown together using bouillon, carrots, onions, and pasta. Ingredients she'd found in Arthur's kitchen. Music poured, at a respectable volume, from the radio on the windowsill. Swaying out-of-time, she added a sprinkling of black pepper, one of the only three spices he had (along with powdered garlic and salt). Wearing a content smirk, she sampled the steaming broth.

When she'd left the office, she'd been frustrated at herself. Yes, she was human. Everyone made mistakes. But she wasn't the forgetful type. Particularly if someone was depending on her. However, as she'd stopped in Burnley for another change of clothes, hopped on the train to Otisburg, and pictured Arthur's reaction to finding her in his home instead of having to call to wish her sweet dreams, her disposition had improved. Not only would he have her for an extra night. He'd get a late lunch, too.

The click of the deadbolt and clank of his keys on the entrance table came the second she turned off the stove. She listened to his heavy exhale as his bag dropped to the floor and shut the door. In her peripheral vision he froze, then approached tentatively. She reveled in his delicate hold on the dip of her waist, the peck he planted on her cheek. The smell of greasepaint wafted to her nose. "I hoped I hadn't made this up," he sighed with what sounded like relief. "But your meeting."

She angled herself towards him, gaze roving over his red and blue plaid blazer. The painted-on smile. His irresistible brown curls, mostly flattened by the wig he'd worn. Fidgeting with the petals of the squirting flower on his lapel, she scrunched up her face. "This morning went to shit." She explained the power outage, the clock, her own stupidity at leaving the file in his apartment. "I've packed it. Don't worry."

His posture grew pensive. "Sorry. Maybe- Maybe we should have stayed at your place. Your building's better."

Him thinking her error was somehow his fault had to be nipped in the bud. "No," she said. "You asked to make more memories here before we move in together. I'm happy to do that."

He paused, long enough she could have sworn she'd heard the gears in his head grinding. "Are you in trouble?"

Not unexpectedly, he had put together her mistake and her early dismissal from work and assumed the worst. "If I wasn't fired for trying to stop the Waynes, it's going to take more than an oversight to get me thrown out on my ass." Her brow furrowed. She sneaked a hand under his jacket and placed her palm on his chest. "I just hate that I wasted last night for nothing."

Soft lips, slightly sticky with red paint, grazed her temple. "It's okay," he said. "You're here now. And I got to help you."

The balm of his kindness loosened her rigid stance. His zeal to assist her, to ask questions, to learn about every aspect of her branded her heart completely. She leaned into him, kissed the squishy fold of skin under his chin, and nudged his ribs. "Food's ready. Go change. I want to hear all about your day."

Arthur emerged from the bathroom within minutes, clad in his worn, blue house pants and toweling his hair. Dimples were on constant display while they ate. The glint in his eyes was the one he usually had if his act or a job had gone particularly well, if he was pleased with himself. Was the one starting to be an almost weekly occurrence. Was the one that made his green eyes sparkle and caused her stomach to flip. He inched closer to her with every sentence.

The kids at the new children’s medical center had liked Carnival, he said. They hadn’t minded that he’d "filled in" for Gary. The magic tricks had all gone without a hitch, and the clinic had provided the balloons, which was a savings. The nurses and doctors had been nice; they’d even asked for his card. He’d had to provide a slip of paper with his address and telephone number instead. But he was sure he’d be invited to perform again. And he asked Y/N for help writing Gary a thank you note for the referral, claiming, “You’re better at that than me.”

“You’re the one who journals every day.” Her bowl and spoon clattered in the sink. “And your letter to me was beautiful. Just let me proofread it.”

Soon they were reclined on the sofa, sharing the flat pillow he’d used when he’d had no choice but to sleep there. The tape he’d recorded yesterday was playing. The Honeymoon Game had been a casual watch before, he’d explained. Not a nightly ritual like Murray. Given that he had a girlfriend and was a boyfriend himself, it had become fun to view.

She was only half-focused on the TV’s talking heads. Her mind was drifting to moving day, which filled her with gladness. She examined the plaid walls, the white cream color ceiling, the knick-knacks strewn about in the glow of the setting sun. The lantern with an owl hanging in the corner; the green, plastic drawers by the television; the curio cabinet... They were all a part of 8J, but assuredly not a part of him. How much would he be bringing with him, she wondered. And what would he be leaving behind?

“With one sugar and a shot of milk.” Arthur’s lively voice broke through her contemplation. Ah. He was reacting to the questions posed to the contestants, and making the answers about her, as he was wont to do.

She nestled back into the pleasant warmth of his firm frame. “Three sugars,” she replied, confirming she knew how he took his coffee. They continued to play along, with him showing off everything he’d memorized about her, and her replying with what she’d gathered about him.

Eventually, he shifted behind her. Raised himself on his elbow. “How did you know you loved me?”

Her hum was soft. Short. Possible responses were multitude. She’d suspected she could fall for him early on. When he’d wanted to repay her for doing what anyone should have done on the subway. And the first time he’d had the courage to call her after they’d split a slice of pie, his slight stammer revealing his nervousness. Maybe she’d say it was how slowly he’d drunken his wine during dinner, initially squinting as he sipped, his inexperience with alcohol obvious.

But she chose to go with what she believed was truest. What she assumed he’d hear most keenly. “Before we slept together, I hadn’t been with anyone for four years. And even then, it was different.” His hand splayed on her abdomen, thumb dragging along the waistband of her green leggings. A delightful ache flared in her center. “When I woke up, I felt perfect.”

“You felt like you were perfect?”

“No, silly,” she laughed, batting his forearm. “I knew I hadn't made a mistake. I reached out to your side, first thing - I’d thought of it that way, even then.” At the sensation of his hardening shaft against her rear, she giggled. “You’d made me so happy. You always do. I wanted to you to bed me again.”

The round tip of his nose skimmed her cheek, and she shivered at the dip of his fingers into her panties. “I want to again,” he rasped, paraphrasing her. The grind of his length was making her light-headed, and she twisted her torso to look at him. “I’ve been thinking about it.” Cheekbones glowing, he averted his eyes. “Ever since I woke up.”

“My monthly started,” she said regretfully. His descent halted, and a groan of frustration left him as he lowered his forehead to her shoulder. She mused. While he was becoming more apt to say what he desired, it happened rarely. But she loved it and didn’t want to discourage him from letting himself be assertive. Would he be offended by her suggestion? “I freshened up before we laid down. I have a tampon in. There are other things we can do.” She pressed her lips together, hoping she didn’t sound presumptuous. “If you’re comforta-“

“I’m comfortable.” His mouth quickly claimed hers, opening on a sigh. The tip of his tongue laved at the seam of her lips, and his messy enthusiasm made her whimper. Leaving a scorching trail in its wake, his hand traversed to her upper leg, gliding over the crease where her thigh and vulva met.

Shallow breaths caressed the nape of her neck, stoking the heat threatening to consume her. But the studio audience blaring from the television’s mono-speaker kept wresting her out of her haze. She snatched the VCR remote from the coffee table and hit the pause button.

The tease of his fingertips at her dark curls caused the peaks of her breasts to stiffen. She gasped as the rough fabric of her sweater dragged along them. His fore- and ring fingers spread her outer lips and she shuddered. The leisureliness of his fondling didn’t detract from its intoxicating effect.

Though it was a tad rough. “You’re kinda dry. Hold on.” Swiftly, he brought his hand to his mouth and wet his fingertips. Y/N blinked at him. It was clear he thought nothing of it, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering he’d confided he liked going down on her. Still. Seeing this normally reserved man improvise so he could pleasure her made her center throb with need.

Y/N was doing her damnedest to get her leggings and underwear down. Arthur snorted at her spirited, failed attempt at kicking them away. “It’s okay,” he chuckled, pushing them off her ankles with his foot. Then his touch fluttered at her swollen folds. She arched into him, already feeling as though she would burst. Bent at the knee, her leg lifted until her foot was flat on the couch cushion, allowing him easier access. He took advantage, sweeping forward and back along the rigid line of her engorged clitoral hood. She rolled towards him subtly, her moans getting louder with each tap to her sensitive nub.

Still holding himself up, he cradled her head. "Your sounds make me crazy," he said lowly. Once his hips started following hers, faintly rutting against the flesh of her backside, she closed her eyes. Hurriedly, she reached behind her to yank at his pajamas. "What?" he asked.

"I want to feel you," she whispered. There was a huff and some fumbling. And moments later his cock was settled at the cleft of her bottom. She bit her lip, savoring the weight of him. God, he felt wonderful.

His fingertips whispered over her clit, daring to follow the edge of her inner labia. She heard him gulp. "How does it feel when we're together? When- When I'm in you?"

"Warm. Full. Like you belong there," she replied with a smile. That last part of her response must have been unexpected, given that his grazes ceased and he trembled. "Don't stop," she whined, placing her hand on his. "Please, Arthur. You know just how to touch me."

Groaning, he started anew, deftly swiping quicker and quicker. The undulations of her pelvis hastened unevenly, begging both for release and for their coupling to last forever. She ran her palm up her torso, kneading her breast and plucking at her nipple. He nuzzled at her ear, grunting low in the back of his throat. Winding her fingers into his loose waves, she tugged lightly. Her belly twitched. Her whole frame tingled.

His skillful touch. The love they had for one another. The noises he was making in the crook of her shoulder. They all combined to throw her over the edge, and a wave of pleasure crashed through her. She cried his name brokenly, feeling empty without him inside her. But he kept holding her, guiding her through the crests of her climax. She was gasping, struggling to suck in air. Surely, she thought, he could detect the thundering of her heart against her ribs.

Gradually, the quivering grip she had on his locks eased. The kisses he planted on her neck were open-mouthed, desperate. And he hadn't halted the ardent movements of his hips. Y/N turned onto her other side. Gazing at him, she raked his curls out of his face, caressed his cheekbone with her knuckles. His look was hungry, darkened with need. The creases between his brows deepened as her hand trailed through the sparse dusting of hair on his chest.

There was a youthful charm to this situation, she considered. To them craving each other but not completely joining. It reminded her of being a teenager. When she'd been curious and horny, but nervous and not quite ready to go "all the way" with her ex. Being with Arthur allowed her to do all that again. To relive those experiences, to explore and make discoveries with him. To fall further in love with him daily.

She tenderly pecked the freckles at the top of his sternum, nestled against the notch above his clavicle. "I'm lucky to have you."

He didn't miss a beat, even as she trailed past the ticklish spots on his flank. "I'm luckier."

"I disagree." She outlined the slender muscles of his stomach, the v-lines leading to his cock. Played with the springy, brown curls at the base of him. "Without you, I'd only have my work. Which was enough before. But not now." After a moment, she concluded she was being sappy. She had to change it up. "And I wouldn't be having the best sex of my life."

Clearly flustered, he muffled his laugh. "Really?" His blush was prominent, his grin ecstatic.

"Really." Groans short and sudden, he rocked into her touch when she encircled his ample girth. Her fingers danced along his shaft, marveling at the contrast of his velvety skin with how hard he was. Pumping up and down, she tugged at him, trying to match the speed of his thrusts. He nudged his nose to hers, gazing at her before his hooded eyes flitted to watch what she was doing. Then she looked, too.

The sight of him fucking into her hand made her dizzy with want, even though he'd just gotten her off. The crimson, swollen head glistened, slick beading generously at the tip. Y/N licked her lips and spread it around him with the pad of her thumb. Moaning sharply, he bucked harder. Her motions quickened, flicking repeatedly at the notch on the underside.

Demand was implicit in the grasp he had on her upper arm. And it strengthened as his hips' stuttered, becoming unpredictable. Ragged pants hit her face. "I'm- I'm gonna make a mess.”

"It's all right," she soothed. Keeping ahold of him, she lay on her back. He followed and settled on top of her. Whimpering her name, he rubbed himself against her labia. But she gently pushed him onto his knees and continued palming him, her fingers teasing the ridge on his erection. It wouldn't take long to make him come. She could see it in the clench of his jaw, the tightening cords in his neck, his abrupt, needy cries...

Plunging forward, he held himself in place, grunting, clutching her urgently. His release hit her abdomen, warm and wet, and she gasped, her body curving up towards him. The feel of him spilling onto her couldn't completely distract her, though. Not from the beauty of his parted lips. Not from the relief that gradually spread across his features. Not from the slackening of his muscles as tension ebbed.

Sweat had gathered on his forehead. A droplet ran from the end of a dark brow to his jawline. Then he kissed her, his mouth groping at hers. "I love you," he said. He gave her one last peck and sat up on his knees. Holding onto the arm of the sofa, he retrieved her underwear from the floor and wiped her belly off. "That was fun." He tucked his chin bashfully.

"I concur." She entwined their hands and sat, then stretched as she pushed herself to stand and walk to the bathroom. The washcloth he'd designated as hers hung on the hook by the towels. She cleaned herself, listening as Arthur started the show again.

A new round of questions was just beginning. "When you and your spouse first met," the host started, "what was your first impression?"

Arthur's answer was instant. "Nice."

Y/N said the first thing that came to mind. "Handsome."

She popped her head out of the room to find him leaning on the entrance of the short corridor, beaming at her with hitched giggles. He was probably waiting for his turn to clean up. Like he normally did. But she couldn't stop herself from staring at him. Loving eyes met hers and his brows lifted expectantly. "Yes?"

Smiling, she wrung out the washcloth and put it back in its place. She stepped to him with a smile and smoothed his hair back. The rush of happiness in her soul, one she wasn't even sure she had, enamored her. Not only at what they'd shared on his old, scratchy sofa. But at Arthur being Arthur. At knowing soon she'd get to sleep next to him every night. Build a life with him, one she hadn't dreamed of even six months ago. Nothing she could say seemed adequate. So she went with a kind gesture, one she knew he'd appreciate. "I'll make us some decaf. And I love you, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @howdylilflower​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @mrscarnival

[behind-the-hood]

@the nonny who sent the pet au ask

I have no idea what part this is. We'll call it ten and work from there.

Nicaise is perched at the end of his bed, filing his nails. Laurent closes his bedroom door, and waits for Nicaise to share his news.

"There's a woman, sleeping in his bed," he says, after nearly five minutes of silence. "She didn't come with their delegation, or anyone else's. She snuck in here." He turns to Laurent with a heavy look. "Or she was let in."

Laurent takes a deep, quiet breath, then lets it out. "Find out everything you can on her. I want a description."

Nicaise rolls his eyes. "Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Big breasts. Her name is Jokaste, or at least that's what Prince Kastor moans when they have sex. Has an attitude like yours, but she's more selfish."

Laurent doesn't smile at the last comment, it would only make Nicaise pissy. "Good. Go."

Nicaise cuts him a truly venomous look, then leaves.

Laurent has heard of the Lady Jokaste. Quite a few rumors surround her, actually.

-

It's late when a knock comes to his door. Late enough he considers not answering. But it could be an urgent message from his father, so Damen rolls out of bed and sees who it is.

He opens the door, and looks down to see Charls standing between his guards.

He's painted and bejeweled and wearing only guazy pants, and he gives Damen a coy smile. "Hello, Prince Damianos."

Damen can't help staring. He's not awake enough to articulate properly. "Charls."

Charls smirks and steps forward, but when he reaches out to lay his hand on Damen's bare chest, his guard catches his wrist in an iron grip. Charls' smile dies.

"Enough. He can come in."

Charls does, sashaying passed Damen and walking to the bed with the assurity that he'll be joined.

He isn't wrong.

Charls is artfully laid out, one leg barely raised, thighs slightly parted, his hands resting just over his head, his hair in a halo. "How have you been, Prince Damianos?"

It feels like an invitation. It looks like an invitation. Damen leans on the doorframe and folds his arms. "It's pretty late for a visit, wouldn't you agree?"

Charls smiles, cat-like and pleased. "I can leave, if you wish."

When Damen doesn't respond, he chuckles.

Charls rolls so he's on his stomach, and lifts his hips just enough to be both subtle and suggestive, looking at Damen from over his shoulder. "If you'd like to just watch, I can do that too."

Damen wishes he weren't nude, so that Charls couldn't see his cock twitch at the offer.

He isn't trying to be subtle anymore. He raises his hips, asking for it without words. He pouts his lips when Damen doesn't move. "Don't you want me anymore?"

"You have no idea how much I want you," Damen tells him, his voice lower than he feels it should be. He isn't even hard yet.

Charls smirks, turning once more. He sits prim at the center of the bed, on his knees. "Do you need me to say it?"

"Yes."

His eyes grow lidded. He crawls to the edge of the bed, and beckons Damen closer with a finger. When Damen is close enough, he lays his hands on his shoulders, giving a squeeze. He leans closer, close enough to kiss, and says in a husky voice that sends blood rushing to Damen's cock, "I want you, Damianos. I want you to bend me over and show me just how much you want me, how much you miss me." He licks Damen's bottom lip, blue eyes sparkling. "How much you need me."

Damen grabs Charls' thighs and pulls so his back hits the bed. His surprise last for only a second, then a smirk claims his lips. "I'm already prepped."

Damen leans over him, caging Charls' head in with his hands. "Why might that be?"

Charls smiles, and looks like he's genuinely having fun with this little game of theirs. "So that when you're done, you can use the plug to keep your cum inside me."

The image passes through Damen's mind, and he groans at the shock of arousal. He buries his face in the crook of Charls' neck. "You're going to be the death of me."

Charls chuckles, his hand ghosting down Damen's side, his hip. "You're more use to me alive than dead." Charls nips his earlobe. "My Prince."

Damen's self control, what little he's held on to, slips from his fingers. He grabs the metal belt holding up Charls' pants, and tries to tug it down. It doesn't budge. "Please," he begs into soft, creamy skin. He can't take one more second apart.

Charls chuckles, petting his hair. "Poor thing," he teases. "The folds of my pants are not connected."

Damen reaches down and feels out the gauzy material, and true enough, they come apart and reveal a bejeweled plug between Charls' cheeks.

Damen presses against it, and watches Charls' eyes flutter, his lips part with a soft sound. "Don't move."

Charls smirks again. "Yes, my Prince."

Damen kneels on the floor so he can see the glass plug, and the large, blue jewel on the end. He presses against it again and watches Charls' hole clench around it. Another soft noise from those plump, pink lips.

He smirks, pulling at it, and the hole still clenches, then relaxes. Damen pulls a little more, and watches the largest end stretch his hole wide, wider than Damen's cock, and then slip out the rest of the way. Excess lube slips out, and Damen puts a finger inside him.

Charls gasps, his hips shift.

"Don't move," Damen warns.

He twists his finger and presses up. Charls gasps again, but he doesn't move. His cock is hard under the front of his pants, and Damen would happily suck it if he knew how to get it out.

"We don't have all night, Prince Damianos," Charls drawls, sounding only a little breathless.

Damen keeps his finger moving against that spot, knowing the pleasure Charls will get from it. "I have nowhere to be in the morning. Do you?"

Charls is panting, softly, his fingers clutching the blanket. "I might."

Damen smiles at his petulant tone. He stands, removing his finger. "If we have so little time, then I guess we best get to business."

Damen walks around the bed for the lube in the sidetable, and smears some on his cock as he returns. Charls' eyes are dark as he watches.

Damen takes one leg, guiding it so Charls' foot catches over his shoulder, then he repeats it with the other, and leans over.

Charls' legs go forward until Damen can press a kiss to his lips. He has him folded in half. "You're perfect."

Charls lets a laugh slip.

Damen smiles, reaching down to line his cock up, then carefully thrusts until he's all the way inside.

Charls gasps, then curls his fingers into Damen's hair. "Show me that you want me," he demands.

He holds Charls hips down on the bed, then pounds into him.

-

Laurent whines as the plug is pressed into his abused hole. It's cool against his overheated skin.

Damianos kisses the crease of his thigh, then rises.

He has a strange look in his eyes, and his face is unusually unexpressive. Laurent tilts his head, flutters his lashes. "Is something wrong?"

Damianos starts to frown, his brows furrow. "How much is this unexpected visit going to cost me?"

Laurent smirks, then stretches. "I'll make a deal with you. Let me stay here tonight, and it's on the house."

Damianos raises a brow, and his face begins to relax. "That's all?"

"You have a very nice bed," he says. It's not quite as good as the bed in Laurent's rooms, but it is better than the beds in the pet quarters.

Damianos chuckles, and Laurent's plan begins to take action.

He gets in with Laurent, and pulls him close. "Is this okay?" His voice is quiet, like he's ready to go back to sleep.

Laurent puts a leg over Damianos' hip, a moan slipping passed his lips as it shifts the plug inside him. "It's more than okay."

Damianos plants a kiss to his head, because he's very affectionate after sex.

When he feels Damianos' grip start to loosen around him as sleep comes, he whispers a question. "Damianos? What did you mean when you said you were tired of people choosing your brother over you?"

Damianos hums, then takes a heavy breath. "I was courting a woman. We were supposed to be married, but I found her in bed with my brother."

Laurent shifts closer. "That sounds awful."

He hums his agreement.

Laurent gives it a little more time, for Damianos to start dozing again. "What was her name?"

"Huh? Uh, Jokaste," he mumbles.

Laurent furrows his brows, then blinks up at him. "You mean the woman in Prince Kastor's room?"

Damianos' eyes peek open then, staring down at Laurent in confusion. "Jokaste isn't here."

"Oh," Laurent says, then snuggles back into his chest. "I was just wondering who the blonde woman was. She's run off a few of the other pets."

He keeps his face relaxed, even as he feels Damianos tensing around him.

Laurent sleeps peacefully then, knowing the pieces of his plan have all fallen into place.

[milkte-aa]

" deal breaker! " (myg x y/n x jjk) 001

📍tags/genre ;; angst, satire, demon!au, prince!au.

📍summary ;; many many years ago, an ancestor of yours made a deal with two demon princes and never paid his debt. the demons, who lay dormant, have awoken and want their prize. and as a blessing and a curse, the prize is you.

📍author's note ;; the story is a bit mature, so chapters that don't have gore, violence, or smut, are still best for 16+ readers. but, of course, read at your own expense.

📍to find other chapters search #db-jjkmyg

"Come on, Jungkook! We don't have all year!!"

That loud voice resonated throughout the large, victorian styled manor. The dark hardwood floors were just a clean and shiny as they had been left, back when the victorian era was on the rise. It was a tragic day, when the manor was left behind, and that day would always be remembered as the day when the demons lost the great war. The two demon princes, who resided within this manor had fought and the front lines, and were forced into dormancy when they lost.

The heavy sound of footsteps could be heard at the home's entrance from deep within the many halls. Approaching every so calmly, Yoongi knew his call had been heard.

He gazed into the round mirror next to the coat rack that lay in the manor's entrance hall, fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek and jaw. The last time he'd seen his own face, was over 130 years ago, and there had been a long and deep cut that split his face in half diagonally. It was strange that they woke up, let alone come back completely unharmed or scarred. It left Yoongi to wonder why he was returned to his original state? Why wasn't his black hair matted with blood? Why was his skin left smooth and clean and not cracked, cut, and burned? Why was Jungkook so unhurt as he? He was greatful that his lover was back in the correct mental state, but why was it so?

"Weird isn't it? That we look brand new?" A chuckled rumbled across the entryway, taking Yoongi's attention away from his silvery reflection. He looked to Jungkook, the tall and handsome boy he'd had as a companion for centuries.

Yoongi nodded, looking back towards the mirror for a moment. He watched himself, quietly staring into his dark eyes. Jungkook cleared his throat in an attempt to get the other's attention, "So, hyung, why did you call my name?"

Jungkook had shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer, with a coy smile on his face. Depsite them having come back so 'new', they were still wearing the same clothes. Black blazer's and slacks, dress shoes, and decorative silk shirts with matching chokers. Silver and gold adorned their fingers and ears, matching the outfit and the era they had left behind.

"Ah yes, we have some unfinished business to conclude." Yoongi turned again to the younger male, "Sadly, that war interrupted us."

Jungkook tilted his head. He was tired and confused, and quite frankly it took a second for him to even recall the very war that took place. But he caught on, remembering the crippled old man that had begged them to cure his only child of an incurable disease. They had done so, with promise that they would be able to collect whatever prize they wished from him when they returned—whether it be riches, land, or a soul. He nodded.

"Is there any prize to collect?"

Yoongi licked his lips. "I believe so. I looked into while you took a nap. The current family isn't rich, so I think we'll be collecting a soul. Unless something else takes our interest."

Jungkook liked the idea of a prize, even though the last thing he could remember was losing a great battle. Souls meant servants. Servants meant things getting back to normal.

Yoongi approached his companion, placing a palm on the younger's cheek. He still saw the condition Jungkook used to be in. The beaten and swollen image lingered in his memories. "I'm so happy you're okay..."

Jungkook smiled, setting his own hand over Yoongi's. "Mhmm, me too. Now, let's go get our well earned prize before it runs away."

"Yes, let's."

Your ancestory had always been a mystery to you. It felt like living in fog, and only ever seeing what was closest to you. You never met your grandparents, as they were all dead before you were born, and so you could never ask silly questions about what wars they lived through or where they grew up. Your parents wouldn't talk about it much, especially after their divorce when you were thirteen.

Though, despite all that you didn't know, there was always one thing that remained clear—your family was cursed.

The story was simple; over 100 years ago, a man in your family made a choice. Would he save his daughter from death or would he let her go and end her suffering? Despite what his little girl had wanted, he chose to save her from the clutches of death, and looked everywhere for the cure. But no books held the answer and no doctor had the time. He had lost hope. That was, until the man was approached by a mysterious creature and offered a deal. He took it without much thought, not caring to ask what the creature was or where it came from. Because of that, his ancestors believed him to have cursed the bloodline— due to making a deal with something that has yet to collect its end of the bargain.

If the family really was cursed, then maybe that would explain why you felt like nothing ever went right. All through highschool, you made mediocre grades and never seemed to impress your parents while simultaneously managing to never make any long lasting friendships. During the year between highschool and college, you had gotten fired at almost every job you took for extremely stupid things. And now, in university, depsite having finally made some good grades you're knee deep in student loan debt. You could hardly pay bills as it was, and soon enough the bank would show up a take you shitty car and even shittier apartment.

But what could you do about that? Nothing, really. Life is just a series of miserable mistakes and regrets, with the only promising goal being growing old and retiring right at the age when freetime is uncomfortable and impossible. Yeah, life is shitty. Life was so shitty sometimes, that it made you wish that the deal your idiot ancestor made would come back and haunt you because then maybe life wouldn't be so painfully drab.

Though, your catch yourself in that thought because demons, or monsters, or fairy tales weren't real.

Ring ring ring!

The distint chime of your cellphone rang at you from your bedroom, gently calling you to answer an important phone call.

"Who is it at this hour? Its almost 10 o'clock..." You pulled yourself up from the old cushions of your hand-me-down couch, eyes briefly passing over the screen of your tv, which flashed with commercials at the moment. With quick steps, you reached your bedroom, which wasn't really that far away at all, and managed to reach your phone before it quit ringing.

"Hello?"

Nothing could be heard from the other end, thought you were certain someone was listening to you.

"Who is this? If you're trying to sell me something just do it already and don't waste my time."

Nothing again, and with that you hung up— people these days were rude over the phone too. You huffed, turning your phone off and chucking it on the bed with a soft thud. Through your annoyed attitude, though, a strange feeling of coldness swept up your spine. It swarmed your brain, filling your mind with a ice so black and dark that it stopped you from thinking for a moment. But it faded, as it some sort of fire or heat had burned it away. Strange, you thought, and then you snapped back into reality.

The tv show you were watching echoed in the distance.

You walked quietly back to the living room, gazing down at your index finger and grumbling at the chipped blue nail polish as you did. You hardly paid attention to your surroundings in this moment, and ran into the couch, slamming your toe against its hard bottom.

"F-fucking hell! Bitchass couch, always in my fucking way!" You yelled out, squeezing your eyes in pain as you reached down to hold your throbbing toe.

A soft sound eerily similar to the clicking of tongue of teeth could be heard, and then...

"Well that wasn't a very ladylike set of words." The low grumble of words jerked you out of your pain, your eyes wide as the shot up to see a man sitting on your kitchen counter, his legs crossed calmly over one another. He was cold. That very coldness you'd felt just before you left you bedroom.

"W-who'er you?!" You scrambled backwards, nearly falling your ass in the process. "How'd you get in my house?!!"

The man chuckled, cleary amused with your prey-like display. His dark gaze raked over you slowly, and his tongue peeked out of his lips for a brief moment. He had black hair, brushed out of his face to show a subtle bit of the pale skin on his forehead. The rest of him was pale, all except his eyes and hair... and the oddly Victorian outfit he wore. "Who am I? How'd I get in? Those are your questions?" He scoffed, "Mortals... You never cease to amuse...."

He trailed off just as you looked to your left, spotting a large black dog towaring over your couch and gazing at you. It looked like a hellhound, but there was something oddly human about it. At closer look, the dog had black horns atop its head and rows of razor sharp teeth and a two-pronged tongue. Its tail swung around carfully, like a snake.

The man on your counter spoke again, "I am a demon, little girl, older than your bloodline and nearly as old as religion itself. This here is my friend, who decided to appear in this form rather than a human one...."

You scoffed, definitely by accident. The reflex in you to pass off stupid claims as symptoms of a low IQ. You regretted this immediately.

The man showed you his teeth, a flashy way to tell you to know your place. "I'm serious, girl. You can stand there all wobbly kneed a pretend that you don't know, deep down inside what we are, but I see right through you." He looked to the dog, that looked back at him and let out an impatient whine. "But... I will be kind and tell you the story, so that maybe then you'll show us some more respect."

You blinked several times, a feeble attempt as waking up from this nightmare. Demons? Imposible! Such a stupid idea. These are just figmants of your imagination. Maybe your family was cursed; but it would be cursed sooner with insanity that it would with demons.

"Once upon a time, during the Victorian Era, a young girl suffered from a bad case of of some very mysterious disease. Her father wanted her to live so very badly, and sold everything he had to find her a cure. But no doctor could care to help, and no witch had a practical solution. He poor, little girl was dying and each day the pale horse grew closer. But, one day, he found himself in the presence of two strange creatures that he passed off as extremely smart hellhounds. Whatever they were, he made a deal with them, selling his soul for his daughter's life. The 'creatures' were nice, and decided to wait until the man got to live a happy life with his daughter before they came to collect his soul and his life. But, those 'creatures' got caught up in a war and were left dormant for over 100 years. And now, they need to get paid for their kindness..."

You could out two and two together, you were mental, the 'deal' your ancestor made was real and it was with this man here and his... dog?

"So that's not really a dog?" You pointed to large mass of dark fur that starred at your with red eyes.

The man shook his head, "No, that's my partner-in-crime Jungkook. And I'm Yoongi. Glad to see you've found your common sense, little girl."

"So, um, Yoongi, what do I have to do with this deal? You can't possibly be here for my soul, I didn't make that stupid deal..." You tried to calm down, but it was difficult to say the least. You were starring death and its dog, er, friend in the face. Who could stay calm during that?

Yoongi looked to his friend, nodding subtlety before he adjusted his hair with a heavily jeweled hand. "I hate to tell you this, but a soul is hard to get once its dead, not unless we were there to grab it. But as I said, its been 100 years, and your great great great grandaddy is probably deep within the inferno. Jungkook and I hardly have the time to find him."

"So, you're going to kill me?" The wind outside your apartment's front door howled, a sign of an on coming storm before it happened. You could almost taste the rain in the air.

The room was silent for a moment, giving your thoughts time to catch up to the situation. You've been acting like this were a real situation. As if! Demons aren't real. Neither was magic or curses ir any of that other mumbo-jumbo. To even believe it for a second would make your insane. Maybe you were. Maybe you were in some sort of looney-bin hospital strapped to a white table and screaming like all hell was loose.

Then, the more fake than real, Yoongi spoke up. He cleared his throat, hopping gracefully off of the marble countertop. The slender man approached you, peering into your fearful and confused face before looking to his hound-shaped companion. The hound thing nodded.

"Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but we can't kill you just yet." Yoongi seemed pleased, a hidden emotion swimming in the dark pools of his eyes. "Remember that war I mentioned? Yeah, well it drained us of our power, and now we can't do something as simple as collect a soul."

Crazy, stupid, gullible girl! This isn't real! Stop responding to your hallucinations!!

You shook your thoughts away, saying nothing to Yoongi at all. He was definitely talkitive and would more than likey continue speaking on his own.

".... So, girl, that means that you're coming with us and will stay under our watch until we're strong enough to do such."

And so he proved you right.

"You don't believe me do you? You think your just a normal, everyday psycho broad who dropped her marbles somewhere and can't find them." Yoongi chuckled. "Do you want to know something? If you were dreaming or imagining this, then you wouldn't be able to feel pain or taste things. And I do recall you jamming your toe not too long ago."

Defiantly, you looked up at him, meeting him eye-to-eye in a show of boldness. "That doesn't prove anything. I could've started hallucinating between then and now. God, look at me, I'm giving into this whole brain fiasco and talking to you! And you're not even real!" You laughed, making this possibility of madness grow.

"Oh how amusing! I, the wonderfully boring and dull, Y/n, have finally gone absolutely insane. I see demons and hellhounds! What's next, fairies and unicorns? Will I begin to preach that I have seen God's true fac-" Your babblings were halted by the most violently pleasant burning sensation, accompanied by the feeling of lips against yours. The mouth against your's was soft, gentle even, with not a hint of malicious intent. You gave in, melt into the touch the snaked around your body— your demon has kissed you.

The moment didn't last long, though you wished it had, because suddenly your bottom lip seared with pain and the taste of blood filled your mouth. Those soft lips tugged themselves away, leaving you with a bloody lip.

"You bit me!" You accused, touching your fingertips to your lip. Yoongi licked his lips, an remnants of your blood disappearing. He grinned.

"Better yet, you would've liked that pain if I kept on with that kiss."

"Why would you do that?" Your ears and cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had done that on purpose, to prove some point more than likey. But the fact that you felt it—his lips, the pain—it meant that-

"This is real. I am real. So is, my very annoyed friend over there." He gestured calmly to the hound who was scrunching its face up, a low rumble emitting from its throat. Your eyes darted back to Yoongi, who was still smiling. "So, sweetheart, are you going to give in and come with us willingly or is he going to drag you?"

You added it all up in your head. Demons, hellhounds, broken deals, war, soul stealing, and ownership. This was crazy... but real. Maybe. The mind is tricky. You contemplated locking yourself in the bathroom and waiting for them to leave, but Jungkook would definitely tear the door down and rip you into ribbons. You could go with them too. Its not like you would be leaving much behind. Your poor parents would be so torn up about it if you just went missing out of nowhere.

Yoongi still stood relatively close to you, so you backed up a bit before you spoke. "I'll go with you, but... let me pack a bag and write a note in case anyone comes looking. Alright?"

You were insane, this was insane, but you had no real choices.

Yoongi nodded, satisfied with your response. "Alright, but hurry. We don't have all year."

And with that, you scurried to your bedroom with two pairs of knowing eyes burying themselves into your back. What had you gotten yourself into, Y/n?