#Live action Monster is one step closer! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

izumkay · 2 months ago

Text

"CAUGHT, KEPT, CRAVED" |Ch-1|

❥Pairing- Hunter!Satoru × Fairy!Reader

❥Synposis- Satoru Gojo never believed in fairy tales—until he found one standing right in front of him. A real, flesh-and-blood fairy, in his forest. He should’ve been concerned, maybe even terrified, but mostly? He was just shocked as hell.

Fairies weren’t real. They belonged in bedtime stories, not in the middle of his hunt, staring at him like he was the strange one. And yet, days passed, and she didn’t vanish like a dream. Instead, she became something else entirely—something dangerous, something forbidden. Keeping her close is reckless. Letting her go? Impossible.

❥Gerne/theme- MDNI. Explicit sexual content, lot of sexual tension, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, forbidden love, fantasy AU, fire, abuse, possessiveness, SA attempts, longing, sacrifices, reunion, seperation, fluff too <3

→ WC- 10k

Satoru Gojo grumbled as he trudged through the dense forest, the heavy weight of his bow hanging against his back. The sun was high, casting harsh beams that barely broke through the thick canopy above, and yet, he still had to hunt. Of course, a hunter couldn’t survive without a kill, but he couldn’t help but feel frustrated.

Why did he always have to do this? It wasn’t like he needed the money that much—he lived alone, away from the cities, far from any expectations. His lifestyle was simple, and really, the whole hunting thing felt more like a chore than a necessity. But it was for his living, so here he was, walking through the damn forest again, tracking some monster or wild animal for dinner.

“I swear, if I see one more damn deer today—” he whined under his breath, kicking a stray branch out of his path. “I’ll—”

His words caught in his throat as he paused, his eyes narrowing at the sudden shift in the air around him. It wasn’t the normal breeze that rustled the leaves; no, this felt… different. Almost alive, as if the very forest itself was holding its breath.

He shook his head, chuckling bitterly at himself.

It’s just the wind, he told himself, moving forward again. But the deeper he ventured into the woods, the more uneasy he felt. Something was off. Something was watching him.

And when a faint, almost ethereal sound drifted through the trees—too soft to be an animal, too melodic to be anything but strange—he froze.

His instincts kicked in, the trained hunter in him waking up. The forest was quiet now. Too quiet.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for his bow, his eyes scanning the shadows.

Nothing.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to shake off the feeling. There was no way—he couldn’t afford to let his mind wander. Yet the sensation of being observed was growing stronger with every step. His pulse quickened, but instead of fear, there was an odd sense of curiosity—a pull, something he couldn’t explain.

With a quick exhale, he adjusted his grip on the bow and moved deeper into the forest, determined to uncover what was hiding in the shadows.

As he ventured deeper into the woods, a sudden loud thud echoed through the trees, followed by the unmistakable sound of something—or someone—crashing through the underbrush. Gojo’s eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips. Finally, some action.

He crept toward the source of the noise, his footsteps silent on the forest floor. As he approached, he spotted a foot sticking out from behind a large fern. He bit his tongue to suppress a chuckle. Whoever this was, they were about to get an earful.

Stepping closer, he peered around the fern to find a young woman sprawled on the ground, her wings—yes, wings—splayed out awkwardly beside her. She had a few branches and leaves tangled in her hair, and dirt smudged her cheeks. She looked up, eyes wide with surprise, and they both froze.

For a moment, neither moved. Then, in unison, they both screamed.

"AHHHH!"

Gojo stumbled back, nearly dropping his bow. "What the—?"

The woman scrambled to her feet, brushing off leaves and dirt. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Gojo blinked, still processing the sight before him. "I... I should be asking you that. What are you doing in my forest?"

She crossed her arms, her wings fluttering slightly. "Your forest? This is a public forest!"

"Not anymore," he retorted, smirk returning. "I just claimed it."

She rolled her eyes. "Typical. Another human thinking they own everything."

"Hey, I was here first," he shot back. "And last time I checked, humans were the dominant species around here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Because last time I checked, humans were the ones who needed to be saved from themselves."

Gojo chuckled. "Touché. But seriously, what are you? Some kind of... fairy?"

She huffed, wings twitching slightly. "Yes. I am. And for the record, not all fairies are tiny and delicate. Some of us can hold our own."

Gojo stared at her for a solid few seconds before scoffing. "Yeah, okay. Sure. And I’m a royal prince."

She frowned. "What?"

"Come on," he waved a hand at her wings. "Fairies aren’t real. You can just admit it now before this gets embarrassing."

Her glare sharpened. "I am a fairy."

Gojo crossed his arms. "No, you’re not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you’re not."

She exhaled sharply. "Why is this so hard for you to believe?"

Gojo threw up his hands. "Because fairies belong in bedtime stories! Magic, wings, flying around all sparkly—yeah, it’s cute for kids, but in real life? People don’t just have wings."

She rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"No, I’m just sane," he shot back. Then, his gaze flickered back to her wings, still skeptical. "What even are those? You make them yourself? They’re kinda impressive, I’ll give you that."

She twitched. "They’re real."

"Right, sure." His smirk deepened as he stepped closer. "Bet they’re just attached to your clothes or something—"

Before he could finish, his hand reached out, fingers just barely grazing the edge of her wing—

SMACK!

"Ow!" Gojo yelped, stumbling back as she slapped his hand away with a force he definitely wasn’t expecting.

"I told you not to touch them!" she yelled, wings flaring wide.

Gojo clutched his hand, eyes wide. "What the hell?! That actually hurt!"

"It was supposed to!" she snapped, her face burning with irritation. "Do you go around grabbing random people's limbs too?"

Gojo blinked, still holding his hand. "Well... I mean, if I thought they were fake, yeah."

She groaned, shoving past him. "Unbelievable. I don’t have time for this."

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" He quickly stepped in front of her, arms outstretched. "Alright, let’s just—wait a second." His blue eyes studied her, skeptical yet intrigued. "So you’re really trying to convince me that you’re some mystical, magical creature, huh?"

She folded her arms. "I’m not trying to convince you. I am one."

Gojo tapped his chin. "Mmm. Nope. Still don’t buy it."

She scowled. "You just saw my wings!"

"Yeah, and I’ve also seen some very good costumes."

Her eye twitched. "I flew before I fell!"

"And I’ve seen people jump off roofs and think they’re flying."

She let out a long, slow exhale, visibly restraining herself from strangling him. "You're insufferable."

Gojo grinned. "So I’ve been told."

Silence hung between them, thick with tension. She was clearly done with him. He was clearly entertained by her frustration. And yet, neither of them moved.

The forest had gone eerily quiet. The wind barely rustled the leaves. It was as if the world itself was waiting to see what happened next.

Finally, Gojo spoke. "Alright, fine—I’ll play along. So, fairy girl, if you’re real... prove it."

She narrowed her eyes, a slow, knowing smirk creeping onto her face. "Oh, you’ll regret saying that."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “Yeah, yeah. I’m shaking.”

Without another word, she stepped back, rolling her shoulders as her wings stretched to their full span. The soft glow of the setting sun caught on them, illuminating the delicate but powerful structure. Gojo barely had time to process the sight before—

Whoosh.

She launched herself into the air, wings beating with precise, controlled movements. Leaves and dust swirled around as she hovered effortlessly above him, the wind from her wings rustling his hair.

Gojo’s smirk faltered.

His brain short-circuited for a second.

She… flew.

Not jumped. Not swung from a branch. Not some elaborate trick of wires or illusions. No, she lifted clean off the ground, rising higher and higher with each beat of her wings.

“What.” His voice came out flat, his head tilting back as he followed her ascent.

She did a slow, mocking circle above him before descending just a few feet in front of his face, her arms crossed and a smug look plastered on her face.

"Still fake?" she taunted.

Gojo blinked. "Okay. Hold on. Wait a damn minute."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, what now? Are you going to say I’m on some invisible ropes? A hallucination, maybe?"

Gojo rubbed his temples. "I'm the hallucination at this point. This—this doesn’t happen. People don’t just—fly.”

"Well, good thing I’m not people," she shot back. "Say it. Fairies are real."

Gojo pointed at her. "You have to be messing with me."

She hovered a little closer. "Say. It."

Gojo squinted at her. Then at the wings. Then at her feet. Then back at the wings. Then—

"…Nah," he said, shaking his head.

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

"You’re still messing with me," he said firmly, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. “This is—this is a trick. Maybe some weird physics thing I never learned. Or—or maybe I’m dehydrated. Yeah. Maybe I hit my head. That would explain why I’m seeing some girl floatin’ in front of me with—”

She sighed deeply before flapping her wings hard, sending a burst of wind directly into his face.

"—AGH, shit!" He stumbled back, hands shielding his face from the sudden gust.

She landed smoothly in front of him, looking pleased with herself. "Convinced now?"

Gojo, hair now an absolute mess, slowly lowered his hands. His expression was unreadable as he stared at her, the gears in his head practically screaming as they tried to process the impossible.

Then, finally—

“…Okay, so let’s pretend for a second,” he began, still skeptical but clearly shaken, “that you are some kind of fairy.”

She groaned. "Oh my god."

"Hey, I’m getting there!" He waved a hand. "It’s just—you can’t expect me to accept that just like that. Fairies aren’t supposed to be real. They’re myths. Fantasy stuff! Kids’ stories! You can’t just—just exist like this!"

"And yet, here I am," she deadpanned.

Gojo dragged a hand down his face. “You see why this is a lot to take in, right?”

"Oh, I do. You’re just painfully slow."

"Excuse you—"

"How about this?" She stepped forward, tilting her head. "Instead of standing here having an existential crisis, you start believing what’s right in front of you?"

Gojo inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “Okay.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. I’m… open to considering the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you are not, in fact, a very dedicated prankster.”

She rolled her eyes. "Close enough."

Another pause. Gojo ran a hand through his hair, still visibly shaken.

“…So, uh,” he started, “if fairies are real, does that mean, like… elves are real, too? Or, like, dragons?”

She sighed. “Oh boy.”

Gojo stared at her for a long moment, his hands on his hips, lips pressed together like he was really trying to process what just happened. Then, with a deep sigh, he finally spoke.

"Okay. Fine," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Maybe—maybe—you're actually a fairy."

She crossed her arms. "Wow. That must have hurt to admit."

Gojo shot her a look. "Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited. But seriously—how? How is this even possible?" He gestured at her wings like they personally offended him. "People don’t just have these! There’s gotta be some explanation. Science? Magic? Divine intervention? Hell, did I eat something weird this morning?"

She just blinked at him.

Gojo stared back.

More silence.

Finally, she sighed and turned on her heel. "Yeah, nope. Not explaining anything to someone this stupid."

Gojo gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "Hey! First of all—rude. Second of all—I think I deserve some kind of answer here!"

"You think?" she scoffed, already walking away. "I don't owe you anything."

"You literally just fell out of the sky in front of me, flapped your little wings, and sent my entire worldview into flames!" Gojo threw his arms up. "The least you could do is tell me how!"

She ignored him, stepping over some fallen branches. "Not my problem."

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face before quickly following after her. "Oh, come on. Just a little hint? A tiny fairy secret? A—hey, wait up!"

She didn't wait.

Gojo let out an exasperated huff. "Unbelievable. First, I find out fairies are real, and now, apparently, they’re jerks, too."

She smirked but didn't turn around. "Took you long enough to figure that one out."

Gojo huffed as he followed after her, stepping over roots and crunching leaves underfoot. “You know, if you’re gonna crash-land in front of me, the least you could do is answer a few simple questions.”

She didn’t even look back. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Wow. The attitude.” Gojo scoffed, quickening his pace to walk beside her. “You’re seriously not gonna explain anything? Nothing at all? Not even a tiny little—”

“Nope.”

He blinked. “Not even like, ‘Oh, Gojo, I’m actually from a magical fairy kingdom, and I fell out of the sky because an evil wizard cursed me’?”

She gave him a look. “Do I look cursed to you?”

Gojo looked her up and down, taking in the dirt, leaves, and general mess she had become from falling. “Honestly? A little bit.”

Her eye twitched. "I swear, you're the most annoying human I've ever met."

Gojo grinned. “You’ve met a lot of humans, then? Or am I just special?”

"You're something," she muttered under her breath, shoving a branch out of her way as she walked faster.

Gojo followed easily. “Oh, come on. I get nothing? No tragic backstory? No mysterious quest? No ‘I’m the lost princess of the fairy realm’?”

“Keep guessing,” she said dryly.

Gojo groaned dramatically. “Unbelievable. I stumble across a real-life fairy, and she won’t even tell me how she exists.”

She suddenly stopped walking, spinning on her heel so fast that Gojo barely avoided bumping into her. She looked up at him, unimpressed. “Let me make this very clear, human—I don’t have to tell you anything. Not to someone as stupid as you.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest like she had physically wounded him. “Stupid?! Me?! I’ll have you know I’m very intelligent.”

“Oh, really?” she deadpanned. “Because a very intelligent person would’ve accepted reality by now instead of standing here whining like a child.”

Gojo pouted. “I’m not whining.”

“You are whining.”

Gojo scoffed. “I am not—”

“You are.”

“I am not—”

She sighed, turning back around and walking again. “I don’t have time for this.”

Gojo followed instantly. “You keep saying that, but you don’t seem to be going anywhere important.”

She ignored him.

Gojo smirked. “You do know where you’re going, right?”

Silence.

Gojo blinked. “Wait… do you not know?”

More silence.

Gojo grinned. “Ohhh, you don’t, do you?”

She exhaled slowly. "Shut. Up."

Gojo chuckled, hands behind his head as he walked beside her. “So what I’m hearing is—you’re lost.”

“I’m not lost.”

“Right, right. You just don’t know where you’re going. Totally different.”

She clenched her jaw, clearly regretting every life decision that led her to this moment.

Gojo leaned down slightly, tilting his head to look at her face. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed. I get it. You fell out of the sky, got dirt in your hair, met a very handsome stranger—”

She shot him a glare so sharp he actually paused.

“…Right. Moving on.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Lucky for you, I know this forest like the back of my hand.”

She snorted. “Oh, great. That makes one of us.”

Gojo smirked. “So, that means you do need my help.”

She looked up at the sky, as if praying for patience. “I never said that.”

Gojo’s grin widened. “You didn’t have to.”

She groaned, rubbing her temple. "I swear, if you don't shut up—"

"—You'll what?" Gojo cut in, completely unfazed. "Hit me again? Because, honestly, I think you just wanted an excuse to touch me the first time."

Her wings flared as she turned sharply. "I will throw you into a tree."

Gojo held up his hands, laughing. “Alright, alright, no need for violence, fairy girl.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t call me that.”

Gojo smirked. “Not a fan of nicknames? What about wings? Feathers? Angry little—”

She glared at him for another second before rolling her eyes and turning back around. “You’re so lucky I have better things to do than argue with you.”

Gojo hummed. “Mm. Seems like you’re still here, though.”

She clenched her fists, muttering something under her breath about insufferable humans.

She walked in silence for a while, probably hoping Gojo would get bored and leave her alone. That was adorable. Like he was the kind of guy to walk away from something this interesting.

After a few minutes, she finally sighed and turned to look at him. “Alright, human—what are you even doing here?”

Gojo blinked. “Huh? Oh. Hunting, obviously.”

After a moment, he tilted his head. “So… how long have you been coming here?”

She eyed him warily. “Why do you care?”

Gojo shrugged. “Curiosity. Humor me.”

She exhaled sharply, clearly debating whether answering him was even worth her time. Finally, she muttered, “Years.”

Gojo blinked. “Years?”

She shot him a look. “Yes. Why?”

Gojo gestured around dramatically. “Because I’ve been hunting here for a long time, too, and I’ve never seen you before.”

She rolled her eyes. “Clearly.”

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “So where’ve you been hiding, huh? Are you some kind of stealth fairy?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “No, you idiot. I come at night.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “At night?”

She nodded. “It’s quieter. No humans stomping around, killing things.”

Gojo smirked. “Ouch. That felt personal.”

She ignored him. “It’s peaceful when the moon is out. The forest belongs to itself again. No arrows flying, no traps waiting, no…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It’s just… better.”

Gojo hummed, tapping his chin. “Huh. Never figured fairies for night owls.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “You figured nothing because you didn’t even believe I existed five minutes ago.”

Gojo grinned. “Touché.”

Silence settled between them, but this time, it wasn’t hostile. Gojo watched her, something unreadable in his expression.

Years. She had been here for years, and he never even noticed. How was that possible? And more importantly…

Why did that bother him?

Gojo tilted his head, watching her with renewed curiosity. “So, you’ve been coming here for years, huh?”

She didn’t respond, just kept walking.

His grin widened. “Alright, next question—how old are you?”

She scoffed. “Not answering that.”

Gojo smirked. “Oh? Why? Is it a fairy secret? Or are you just—” He gasped dramatically. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re, like, a hundred years old or something.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not.”

“Two hundred?”

“No.”

“Five hundred?”

“Oh my god.”

Gojo tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Then… judging by your height, I’d say… what, fifteen? Maybe sixteen?”

She froze.

Slowly, she turned to glare at him, pure offense in her eyes. “I’m twenty-two!”

Gojo grinned like he knew that would get a reaction. “Ohhh, there it is.”

Her wings fluttered aggressively. “You are so irritating.”

Gojo shrugged, still smirking. “Hey, I was just guessing. But wow, twenty-two? You sure?”

She clenched her fists. “Yes!”

Gojo hummed, looking at her like he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Mmm. I dunno. You kinda give off little sister energy.”

Her eye twitched. “Say that again, and I will dropkick you.”

Gojo snorted. “I’d like to see you try, shortstack.”

Her wings flared. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” Gojo said casually, hands behind his head. “You just wish you did.”

She stopped abruptly, turning to face him with an exasperated sigh. “And by the way,” she huffed, “can you stop calling me random nicknames? I have a name, you know.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? You do?”

She folded her arms. “Obviously.”

He leaned in slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well then, mysterious fairy, what is it?”

She introduced herself in annoyance, voice clipped and impatient.

Gojo blinked, then grinned. “Huh. That’s actually a really nice name.”

She gave him a flat look. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, never,” he said, hand over his heart. Then, after a beat, his smirk deepened. “Alright then, fairy girl.”

Her eye twitched. “I just told you my name.”

“Yeah, and I heard it,” Gojo said casually. “But, y’know, ‘fairy girl’ just suits you better.”

She groaned, turning back around. “You’re impossible.”

“Or magical,” Gojo shot back, walking beside her. “You did call me stupid earlier, so maybe I just forgot your name already.”

She didn’t even dignify that with a response.

Gojo grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Alright, how about winged menace? Tiny terror? Ooh, what about sparkles?”

She stopped so fast that Gojo nearly bumped into her. Slowly, she turned, her glare sharp enough to cut. “Call me that, and I swear, I will bury you in this forest.”

Gojo pressed his lips together, looking like he was really fighting back laughter. “Alright, alright. No ‘sparkles.’”

She exhaled sharply, resuming her pace.

Gojo let the silence linger for a few moments before grinning.

“…But pixie is still on the table, right?”

She didn’t answer. She was too busy resisting the urge to strangle him.

She kept walking, clearly trying to ignore him, but Gojo was nothing if not persistent.

“Well,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head, “since you were kind enough to introduce yourself, it’s only fair I do the same.”

She shot him a dry look. “I don’t actually care.”

Gojo ignored that completely. “Satoru Gojo. Best hunter in these lands, possibly the most handsome man you’ll ever meet, and definitely the funniest.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “You really just talk like that, huh?”

Gojo grinned. “What can I say? Some people are born to be great.”

She sighed, muttering, “And some people are born to be insufferable.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Wow. Rude.”

She kept walking.

Gojo smirked. “Anyway, as I was saying—I’m twenty-four, I live alone, and I technically don’t have to hunt that much, but hey, a man’s gotta make a living.”

She side-eyed him. “You hunt for sport?”

Gojo scoffed. “What? No. I hunt to survive. But if I happen to look really cool doing it, that’s just a bonus.”

She exhaled sharply. “Right. Of course.”

Gojo continued, completely unfazed. “I don’t really like dealing with people, which is why I live on my own. Less drama, less noise. Just me and the great outdoors.” He spread his arms dramatically. “Peaceful, right?”

She glanced at him. “You? Living in peace? Hard to imagine.”

Gojo chuckled. “Alright, fair point. But hey, I could be worse. I could be some grumpy old hunter who never cracks a joke.”

“I think I’d prefer that.”

“Ouch,” Gojo laughed. “You wound me.”

She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Gojo, of course, followed right after her, still talking.

“Anyway, what else? Oh! I have amazing eyesight. You might’ve noticed.”

“Didn’t ask.”

“And I’m ridiculously strong. Seriously, I could probably carry you and your wings with one arm.”

“Not happening.”

“And, best of all—” Gojo grinned, stepping in front of her and walking backward so he could face her directly— “I’m really fun to be around.”

She stared at him blankly. “You’re really something, alright.”

Gojo smirked, absolutely taking that as a compliment. “See? You’re warming up to me already.”

She groaned. “You are so lucky I have more important things to deal with.”

Gojo chuckled, hands behind his head. “I am lucky. Lucky I found a real-life fairy to bother for the rest of the day.”

She let out a long breath, as if gathering every ounce of patience she had left.

Gojo just grinned, completely entertained. ThisGojo walked alongside her, hands behind his head, still grinning like he had all the time in the world. “So, fairy girl, where do you live?”

She glanced at him, clearly suspicious. “In the forest.”

Gojo snorted. “Yeah, obviously. But I mean, where’s your house?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickered ahead, wings shifting slightly as she kept walking.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “What? You don’t wanna tell me? Afraid I’ll crash at your place? I promise I don’t take up much space.”

Still, no response.

Gojo slowed his pace slightly, watching her carefully. “Wait… do fairies even live in houses? Do you guys have little tree villages? Hollow logs? Underground tunnels? Ooooh, or do you sleep in giant flower petals?”

She let out a sharp sigh before finally answering, voice quiet.

“…I don’t have one.”

Gojo blinked.

For once, he didn’t have a snarky response ready.

She kept walking like she hadn’t just dropped that information so casually, like it wasn’t something strange or concerning.

Gojo, of course, wasn’t about to let it slide.

“…Wait. What do you mean you don’t have one?” He frowned. “Like, at all?”

She didn’t look at him. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, processing that. No house. Nowhere to go. Nowhere she belonged.

Something about that didn’t sit right with him.

And for the first time since meeting her, his teasing grin completely disappeared.

Gojo stared at her, still processing the fact that she didn’t have a home. Then, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, he grinned and said, “Woah. You can live at my place.”

She stopped walking.

Gojo kept going. “It’s big enough for us, and I am an excellent host. I can take care of you—make sure you have food, a warm bed, maybe even—”

She turned to him with a look of pure disgust.

“First of all, no way am I living with someone like you.”

Gojo clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch.”

“And second,” she continued, rolling her eyes, “I can’t leave the forest.”

Gojo frowned. “Why not?”

She gave him a look like he was dense. “Because if humans saw me, they’d hunt me. Or—or worse. I don’t even want to know what they’d do.”

Gojo blinked, tilting his head. “I mean… I’m also a human?”

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then, without meeting his eyes, she muttered, “You’re different.”

Gojo stared at her, something unreadable flashing across his face.

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “And please… don’t tell anyone about me, okay?” Her voice softened just a little. “Not like they’d believe you anyway.”

Gojo watched her carefully, noting the way her wings folded slightly, as if she was trying to make herself smaller.

Then, with a smirk, he shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “Don’t worry, pixie. Your secret’s safe with me.”

She groaned. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

Gojo chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

But despite his teasing, something in his expression had shifted.

And for reasons he didn’t quite understand yet… he meant what he said.

Gojo kept walking beside her, his usual smirk still present but his mind running with thoughts he couldn’t quite shake. She really had nowhere to go? She couldn’t even leave the forest?

That… didn’t sit right with him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of whatever birds were still left in this part of the forest.

Then Gojo broke the silence.

“So,” he started, tilting his head at her, “you’ve been hiding here for years, huh? Just… out here, alone?”

She didn’t look at him. “I’m not alone.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You got a secret fairy society somewhere?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. But I don’t need one.”

Gojo hummed, unconvinced. “Must get kinda lonely, though.”

She stiffened slightly.

It was small—barely noticeable—but Gojo caught it.

“…It’s not so bad,” she muttered after a while.

Gojo watched her carefully.

Then, out of nowhere, he grinned and threw an arm over her shoulder. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got me now!”

She immediately shoved him off. “Don’t touch me!”

Gojo burst out laughing, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright! No touching the fairy, got it.”

She scowled. “You are the worst.”

“Aw, come on, I’m a great companion!” He smirked. “Super fun, super strong, and super annoying. The full package.”

She groaned. “Why are you still following me?”

Gojo stretched his arms behind his head. “Dunno. Maybe I’m just curious.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Curious about what?”

Gojo shrugged. “Dunno yet. Guess I’ll find out.”

She sighed heavily, clearly realizing he had no plans of leaving her alone anytime soon.

Gojo chuckled.

For some reason, that thought didn’t bother him one bit.

She sighed, her gaze dropping to the forest floor as they walked. Then, almost too quietly, she muttered, “But… I do want to go outside the forest.”

Gojo’s brows lifted slightly in surprise.

“But I’m scared,” she admitted, voice softer now. “If someone saw me—” She shook her head, cutting herself off. “I don’t know what they’d do.”

Gojo watched her carefully, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of her being scared—of her being trapped here—didn’t sit right with him.

And maybe he should’ve thought it through more, maybe he should’ve considered what he was about to offer—

But he didn’t.

Instead, he grinned, stepping in front of her and bending slightly so they were eye level. “Then let me do it for you.”

She blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Gojo smirked. “You wanna see the outside world, right?” He tapped his chest. “I’ll take you.”

She stared at him, clearly trying to figure out if he was joking. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am.” His grin widened. “C’mon. Who better to sneak you out than me?”

She hesitated, her wings twitching slightly. “You’re a human.”

Gojo tilted his head. “Yeah. And?”

She frowned. “You know why that’s a problem.”

Gojo chuckled. “Relax. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was still teasing, still playful, but underneath it was something else—something solid.

She searched his face for a long moment, uncertain.

He let her think. Let her weigh the idea, weigh him.

Then, slowly, she exhaled and looked away. “…It’s not that simple.”

Gojo just smirked. “Maybe not.” He straightened up, hands on his hips. “But hey, lucky for you, I love complicated things.”

She sighed heavily, like she already regretted this conversation. “You’re ridiculous.”

Gojo chuckled, turning to walk beside her again. “And yet, you still haven’t said no.”

She didn’t reply.

Gojo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his smirk softening just a little.

He didn’t know why he cared so much.

But he did.

And that was enough.

➽──────────────❥

You sat peacefully on a thick tree branch, the cool morning breeze brushing against your skin as you ran your fingers gently over the feathers of a small bird perched beside you. It chirped softly, pressing into your touch, unbothered by your presence.

This was your routine—finding solace in the quiet of the forest, away from the chaos, away from—

"Oi! Fairy girl!"

Your peace shattered instantly.

You stiffened, closing your eyes briefly, exhaling through your nose. Of course.

He came.

Satoru Gojo.

You glanced down, and sure enough, there he was, standing beneath your tree, looking just as insufferable as ever. His usual grin was present, but something else caught your attention—he was holding a brown cloak in his hand, waving it slightly.

You narrowed your eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Gojo smirked. "What, no ‘good morning’?"

You sighed, shifting slightly on the branch. "Gojo."

His grin widened. "That’s better."

You rolled your eyes. "Why are you here?"

Gojo held up the cape. "Brought you a gift."

You blinked. "…A what?"

"A cape," he said casually, shaking it out. "You did say you wanted to go outside the forest, right?"

You hesitated.

Gojo smirked. "Figured you’d need a disguise. Y’know, since your very obvious wings might make people lose their minds."

You frowned, eyeing the fabric warily. "And you just… had that lying around?"

Gojo shrugged. "Not exactly. But I may have borrowed it."

You scoffed. "You stole it, didn’t you?"

Gojo gasped dramatically. "Excuse me! I acquired it. Totally different thing."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You’re impossible."

Gojo chuckled, stepping closer. "C’mon. Try it on."

You eyed him suspiciously, but curiosity got the better of you. With a sigh, you leapt down from the branch, landing lightly on your feet in front of him.

Gojo handed you the cloak, watching as you hesitantly draped it over your shoulders. The fabric was thick but surprisingly soft, and when you adjusted it, it covered your wings completely.

Gojo grinned. "See? Looks good on you. Almost makes you look normal."

You shot him a glare. "Gee, thanks."

He chuckled. "So, what do you think? Ready to step out of the forest?"

You hesitated again, gripping the fabric slightly.

Gojo watched you carefully, his usual playfulness still there, but something else lingered in his expression—something patient.

You exhaled. "Maybe."

Gojo smirked. "Maybe is a good start."

You adjusted the cloak slightly, shifting your shoulders. The fabric was thick and heavy, pressing against your wings in a way that wasn’t exactly painful but definitely uncomfortable.

“…It’s kinda uncomfortable for my wings,” you muttered, frowning as you tried to reposition them beneath the fabric. “Feels weird.”

Gojo hummed, tilting his head as he watched you. “Yeah, I figured that might be a problem.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t you get something better?”

Gojo smirked. “What, and rob an entire tailor’s shop? I’m not that much of a criminal.”

You scoffed. “Debatable.”

Gojo laughed, but then his grin shifted into something a little more thoughtful. “Still, even with the cape, people might get suspicious.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gojo gestured vaguely. “You know, seeing me walking around with a girl they’ve never seen before? Might raise some eyebrows.”

You blinked, suddenly realizing the flaw in his plan. “Oh.”

Gojo grinned. “Yeah. I mean, I am quite the handsome and mysterious man—people tend to notice me.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not the issue.”

He smirked. “You sure? Could be a great excuse to say you’re my secret lover.”

Your wings twitched under the cloak. “I will punch you.”

Gojo laughed. “Alright, alright. No need for violence, pixie.”

You groaned. “Ugh, we’re gonna get caught before we even try at this rate.”

Gojo tapped his chin. “Hmm. Guess we need a cover story, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?”

Gojo grinned. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

You had a feeling you were about to regret everything.

You walked beside Gojo, your hands gripping the edges of the cloak as you stepped out of the forest for the first time in years. The open air felt different—less wild, less free. The towering trees were replaced by open roads, stone pathways leading toward a town that seemed to hum with life.

As you approached, the first thing you noticed was the people.

Children ran barefoot through the streets, their laughter echoing as they weaved between market stalls. Vendors called out their wares—fresh bread, spices, handwoven fabrics—all filling the air with an odd but strangely comforting mix of scents. Women strolled by in elegant dresses, their skirts swishing with every step, their hair pinned in intricate styles as they gossiped with one another. The faint melody of a musician’s tune drifted through the air, blending into the sound of horses trotting down the cobbled paths.

It was… overwhelming.

You kept your head down, pressing the hood of the cloak lower over your face as you walked closer beside Gojo.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You scowled. “No.”

Gojo smirked. “Right. That’s why you’re clinging to that cloak like it’s your lifeline.”

You huffed, loosening your grip slightly but still keeping your pace quick. “People are staring.”

Gojo chuckled. “They’re curious. That’s normal.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “That’s bad.”

Gojo just shrugged, walking with that same relaxed confidence he always had, completely unbothered. “Relax. Just stick with me. No one’s gonna do anything.”

That was easy for him to say.

You swallowed, ignoring the way a few passing townsfolk gave you curious glances.

You had made it this far.

Now you just had to blend in.

As you walked deeper into town, your nerves were starting to get the better of you. Every passing glance felt like it lasted too long, every whispered conversation felt like it was about you.

Then, without warning—

Gojo grabbed your hand.

You immediately tensed. “What are you—?”

“Relax,” he said smoothly, his grip firm but not forceful. “You’re looking too jumpy. This’ll make you seem less suspicious.”

You frowned, trying to pull away. “I don’t need your help blending in.”

Gojo smirked, effortlessly keeping his hold. “Oh, really? Because right now, you look like you just walked into civilization for the first time in your life.”

You glared at him. “That’s because I did.”

Gojo chuckled. “Exactly. Which is why you should listen to me.”

You tried again to yank your hand back. “This is unnecessary.”

He didn’t let go. “It’s convincing.”

You huffed, wings twitching uncomfortably beneath the cloak. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Gojo grinned. “A little, yeah.”

You groaned, giving up the struggle. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are, holding my hand.”

“I’m not—you are—” You shut your mouth, inhaled deeply, and faced forward. “Whatever. Just… don’t make it weird.”

Gojo squeezed your hand lightly. “No promises.”

You were so going to regret this.

➽──────────────❥

Gojo wasted no time leading you through the bustling streets, completely in his element while you tried your best to blend in. He was annoyingly casual about the whole thing, weaving effortlessly through the crowd, dragging you along as if this were just another ordinary day.

He stopped at a food stall first, handing the vendor a few coins before turning to you with a smug grin. “Here. Try this.”

You eyed the small pastry in his hand, then glanced at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Good,” he said simply, shoving it toward you.

You hesitated but took a cautious bite. The soft, flaky crust melted in your mouth, the filling warm and sweet with a hint of spice. Your eyes widened slightly—it was actually delicious.

Gojo smirked. “Told you.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, swallowing the bite before muttering, “…It’s alright.”

Gojo laughed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

And so it continued.

He dragged you from stall to stall, making you try different things—fruits so sweet they made your lips tingle, roasted nuts coated in honey, warm bread fresh from the oven. Every time you protested, he would shove something else into your hands, grinning like a child as he watched you try new flavors.

You were starting to suspect this wasn’t about “blending in” at all—he just wanted an excuse to feed you.

He guided you through the winding streets, pointing out different places—where to get the best food, which vendor had the softest fabrics, which alleyways to avoid unless you wanted to get robbed (which he said with way too much amusement).

And then, of course, people started noticing.

It started with whispers. Curious glances.

And then finally—

“Hey, Gojo,” a passing merchant called out, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s this girl with you?”

You stiffened. Your heart picked up pace. Shit.

More people turned to look, the attention settling heavily on you. Gojo, of course, looked completely unbothered.

Then he smiled. And opened his mouth.

“Oh, her?” He pulled you slightly closer, tilting his head as if the answer was obvious.

“My secret lover, not secret anymore though—”

Silence.

Every single person around you froze.

Eyes widened. Mouths dropped open.

The air grew thick with shock.

You blinked, your brain momentarily unable to process what he had just said.

Then—

Your eyebrow twitched.

Oh god. He really said that.

Gojo just grinned, clearly entertained by everyone’s reaction. He squeezed your hand lightly, as if sealing the deal.

You, on the other hand, were one second away from killing him.

Your fingers curled into a fist. Your wings twitched violently beneath the cloak.

Oh, he was so dead.

And yet, Gojo just chuckled, completely ignoring the way you were vibrating with barely restrained rage.

"What?" he said innocently, looking around at the stunned crowd. “Is that so hard to believe?”

You were so going to murder him in broad daylight.

The second the words left Gojo’s mouth, the questions exploded.

“Wait—seriously?”

“Gojo, since when?!”

“Where’s she from?”

“Why haven’t we seen her before?”

You stiffened as the crowd suddenly closed in, eager for answers. Oh god, what had he done?

Gojo, of course, was perfectly relaxed, grinning like he was enjoying every second of this. “She’s from a neighboring town,” he said smoothly, not missing a beat. “That’s why you haven’t seen her before.”

People nodded like that made perfect sense.

You, meanwhile, were standing there like a deer caught in torchlight, unable to do anything. You couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t argue. Couldn’t even glare at him properly because all eyes were on you.

You had no choice but to go along with it.

Gojo was still talking, still lying effortlessly, answering every question thrown his way.

“How long have you two been together?”

“A while now,” Gojo replied, slinging an arm around your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You nearly choked.

He was enjoying this too much.

Then, someone laughed—a young man standing by one of the market stalls, shaking his head in amusement. “Damn, Gojo,” he said, grinning. “You really broke all the ladies’ hearts, huh?”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

Of course he’d be popular.

You hated to admit it, but… Gojo was handsome.

Annoyingly so.

His bright blue eyes, his sharp features, the way his white hair somehow looked effortlessly perfect—he had the kind of beauty that stood out, that demanded attention. Even in a town full of people, he was the person you’d notice first.

You hated that you noticed.

Gojo just laughed, completely unfazed. “Ahh, what can I say?” he sighed dramatically. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

More laughter, more teasing.

You, on the other hand, were still recovering from the fact that he had just made you his “lover” in front of half the town.

This was not how you expected today to go.

And judging by the way Gojo was still smirking, you had a very bad feeling that this wasn’t over yet.

You could feel their eyes on you.

The women in the crowd—some subtle, some not—were all staring. Some whispered to each other, casting quick glances your way, while others openly examined you, their expressions ranging from curiosity to thinly veiled judgment.

You shifted slightly under the weight of their stares, resisting the urge to pull your hood lower, fidgeting with it.

It made sense. Gojo was handsome, charming, and irritatingly confident. He was the type of person who naturally drew attention, the kind who could have anyone he wanted—so why had he suddenly claimed you?

The disbelief in their gazes said it all.

You clenched your jaw, pretending not to notice the way some of them whispered behind their hands.

Gojo, meanwhile, was completely unfazed.

If he noticed the way the women were sizing you up, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just stood there, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in ages.

You, on the other hand, were not having fun.

Not only were you stuck in this ridiculous situation, but now you were also dealing with the silent judgment of people who had probably spent years fawning over him.

Great. Just great.

You subtly exhaled, trying to ignore it.

But the longer it went on, the more you wanted to strangle the man standing beside you.

And judging by the glint of amusement in his eyes, he knew it.

You exhaled slowly, keeping your expression neutral as Gojo continued to entertain the crowd like this was his personal stage.

The questions didn’t stop.

“Where did you two meet?”

Gojo hummed, tapping his chin. “Ah, it’s quite the romantic story, actually—”

You shot him a warning glare.

He smirked. “—but that’s a secret.”

The crowd groaned, clearly disappointed but still eating up every word he fed them.

You, meanwhile, were dying inside.

The stares from the women hadn’t stopped. Some of them had their arms crossed, unimpressed. Others whispered behind their hands, their eyes flickering between you and Gojo like they were trying to make sense of this unbelievable pairing.

And the worst part?

Gojo knew it.

You could see it in the way he smirked, the way his grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if to prove a point.

Oh, he was enjoying this way too much.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged at his arm, lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Enough,” you hissed. “Can we go now?”

Gojo glanced at you, clearly amused. “Hmm? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your eye twitched. “I will kill you.”

Gojo laughed. Actually laughed.

The crowd looked between you, interest piqued.

“You two are adorable,” one of the older women in the market cooed.

Gojo grinned. “Aren’t we?”

You resisted the very strong urge to stomp on his foot.

Instead, you yanked at his sleeve again, hissing, “If you don’t walk away in the next five seconds, I swear—”

Gojo chuckled, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

With that, he pulled you through the crowd, his hand still firmly holding onto yours, as if to make sure you couldn’t escape just yet.

The stares followed you as you walked away.

You could still feel them.

And as Gojo led you down another street, humming to himself like nothing had happened, you made a silent vow—

You were getting back at him for this.

As soon as you were far enough from the crowd, without hesitation—

SMACK.

Your hand came down hard on Gojo’s head.

“Ow—hey!” He stumbled slightly, rubbing the spot with an exaggerated wince. “What was that for?”

You shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe for LYING TO HALF THE TOWN?!”

Gojo blinked. Then smirked. “Ohhh, that?”

Your eye twitched. “YES, THAT.”

He chuckled, still rubbing his head. “Damn, fairy girl, you’re stronger than you look.”

“I should’ve hit you harder.”

Gojo grinned. “Aww, but then I’d have to tell everyone my lover is abusing me.”

You lunged at him.

Gojo dodged, laughing as he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Relax! It was just a joke!”

“Oh, just a joke?” You crossed your arms, glaring. “Do you have any idea what you just did?!”

Gojo tilted his head. “Uh… made you a local celebrity?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Now the whole town thinks we’re together!”

Gojo shrugged. “Eh, could be worse.”

You looked at him like you wanted to strangle him. “How?"

He smirked. “Well, technically, I could’ve said we were married.”

You gaped at him in horror.

Gojo burst out laughing.

“Ohhh, your face—” He wiped a fake tear from his eye, still grinning. “That was priceless.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you actually killed him.

Gojo smirked, tilting his head. “You’re really worked up over this, huh?”

You glared. “Because now people are going to keep asking about it! The women in town are already mad!”

Gojo hummed, amused. “Jealous, you think?”

“Oh, definitely,” you deadpanned. “I mean, look at you. Handsome, charming, the worst person I’ve ever met—”

Gojo placed a hand on his chest. “Aw, stop, you’re making me blush.”

You were so close to knocking him out.

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Just—just fix this, okay?”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “Fix it?”

“Yes! Tell them you were lying, or joking, or—something!”

Gojo just grinned. “Ehhh… I dunno.”

Your hands curled into fists. “Gojo.”

He leaned in slightly, still smirking. “But you haven’t denied it, have you?”

Your breath caught for a second.

Then—

You shoved him so hard that he actually stumbled back, laughing.

“Fix it.”

Gojo just winked. “No promises.”

You hated him.

You really did.

And the worst part?

He knew it.

Gojo was still grinning, completely unbothered by the fact that you had just smacked him.

Then, as if he hadn’t just caused chaos, he stretched lazily and said, “Alright, let’s go to my place.”

You blinked. “What?”

Gojo looked at you like it was obvious. “My house. You know, where I live? Where we can not stand in the middle of town while you plot my murder?”

You scowled. “I don’t need to go to your house.”

Gojo smirked. “Oh, so you want to stay out here where people might keep asking about us?”

Your lips pressed together.

Damn him.

“…Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “But only because I need to sit somewhere and recover from the disaster you just caused.”

Gojo chuckled. “Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, pixie.”

You shot him a glare, but he just grinned and led the way.

The walk to his home wasn’t long, but by the time you arrived, you were… surprised.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the small house in front of you wasn’t anything extravagant. It wasn’t large or overly fancy, but it had a certain charm to it. The wooden walls looked well-maintained, the small porch had a few crates stacked neatly against the side, and a window had soft, warm light spilling out from within.

It looked… cozy.

You glanced at Gojo, raising an eyebrow. “This is your place?”

He grinned. “What? Expecting a castle?”

You huffed. “No. Just… thought it’d be messier.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Wow. You really don’t think highly of me, huh?”

You smirked. “Not even a little.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he pushed the door open. “Well, come on in. Mi casa es tu casa, fairy girl.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him inside.

And for the first time, you stepped into his world.

The moment Gojo pushed the door open, you stepped inside cautiously, taking in your surroundings.

It was… not what you expected.

The space was small but warm, with wooden beams overhead and stone walls that gave it a sturdy, lived-in feel. A wooden dining table sat at the center, covered with a checkered cloth, a half-empty bottle of wine resting on it like it had been forgotten there. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with jars, plates, and random trinkets, while an old clock ticked softly above the fireplace. The scent of dried herbs and faint traces of smoke from the stove lingered in the air, making the place feel oddly inviting.

Your gaze drifted to the kitchen area, where pots and pans hung neatly from hooks, and sunlight filtered through a small window, casting a golden glow across the room. Everything had a simple charm to it—unexpectedly cute, even.

“…Huh.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, shutting the door behind him. “What?”

You glanced at him. “I don’t know. I just… thought you’d live in more of a mess.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow. So little faith in me.”

You smirked. “I mean, considering the way you act, I expected, I don’t know—half-eaten food lying around, arrows stuck in the walls, maybe a dead animal on the floor.”

Gojo snorted. “I am a hunter, not a wild animal.”

You hummed, unconvinced, as you wandered toward the table, brushing your fingers over the wooden surface. “It’s… cute.”

Gojo smirked. “Oh? You think I’m cute?”

You turned to him with a deadpan expression. “The house.”

Gojo chuckled, clearly entertained. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’re too proud to admit I’ve got taste.”

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. The chair creaked slightly under your weight, but it was sturdy, just like everything else in this place.

Gojo walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a couple of mugs from a shelf. “Tea?”

You blinked. “You drink tea?”

Gojo smirked over his shoulder. “What, did you think I just survive off the thrill of the hunt and sheer charisma?”

“…Yes.”

He laughed. “Fair. But no. I drink tea, and so do you now.” He placed a cup in front of you before sitting across the table, resting his chin in his palm.

For the first time since stepping into town, you felt yourself relax just a little.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

As you sat at the wooden table, fingers curling around the warm mug Gojo had placed in front of you, a strange feeling settled in your chest.

Comfort.

You weren’t sure why, but something about this place—this home—felt… good. Safe. Like it had been lived in, like it had stories within its walls. It wasn’t grand or extravagant, but it had warmth. The soft ticking of the clock, the scent of herbs in the air, the way the light spilled gently through the window—it all felt oddly familiar.

Like home.

You weren’t supposed to feel that way. Not outside the forest. Not in a human’s house. And yet…

You exhaled slowly, letting yourself sink into the moment.

Gojo, of course, noticed. He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a lazy smirk. “Comfy?”

You shot him a look. “No.”

His grin widened. “Liar.”

You huffed, sipping your tea to avoid answering. It was warm, a little bitter, but soothing in a way you hadn’t expected.

Gojo chuckled, but for once, he didn’t push.

For a moment, the two of you sat there, just existing in the quiet.

And for the first time in a long time… you didn’t feel so out of place.

The warmth of the tea seeped through the cup into your fingers, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the quiet, the stillness, the way the air inside this small home felt different from the outside world.

Gojo leaned back in his chair, watching you over the rim of his mug. “Y’know,” he started, voice smooth and teasing, “for someone who acted like they hated coming here, you’re looking awfully comfortable.

You shot him a side glance, unimpressed. “I can leave.”

Gojo smirked. “Yeah? And go where?”

That shut you up.

He knew you had nowhere else to be. That the forest was the only place you ever returned to, and even that wasn’t really a home.

You set your mug down, crossing your arms. “Don’t think this means I like you.”

Gojo grinned. “Oh, obviously. You just like my house.”

You scoffed, looking away. “Maybe.”

Gojo chuckled, but his expression softened slightly as he rested his chin in his palm, watching you. “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he said, voice quieter this time, “you can stay as long as you want.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like the idea of you being here, in his space, wasn’t strange at all.

You hesitated, glancing down at your cup. “…I won’t stay long.”

Gojo just smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

And for once, you didn’t argue.

The warmth of the tea, the flickering light from the stove, the faint creaks of the wooden house settling—it all felt strangely calm.

Too calm.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, letting the silence stretch between you and Gojo. But for once, he wasn’t talking. He just leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, watching you with that lazy, unreadable expression.

You didn’t like it.

It felt like he was waiting for something.

“…What?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Gojo smirked. “Nothing.”

You scowled. “Then stop looking at me like that.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up, grabbing your empty mug along with his. “Alright, alright. No need to get all shy, fairy girl.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your stomach twisted slightly at his words.

As he turned away, moving toward the small sink, you let your gaze drift around the house once more. The warmth, the familiarity of it—it was dangerous. It made you forget, just for a second, that you didn’t belong here.

You exhaled, standing up as well.

You wouldn’t get too comfortable.

Because sooner or later… you’d have to leave.

A/n- Honestly, writing this took longer than I expected, but I had so much fun with it. Gojo is already a menace, and reader is already so done with him, lmao. But hey, she did feel comfortable at his place… wonder what that means. I hope I didn't disappointed y'all:>

Chapter 2 is gonna be interesting, so stay tuned! And let me know what you think so far, have a great day🩷🫶

→ Series Masterlist.

→ you can comment under the series masterlist to be tagged.

Taglist🏷️- @mashtura @evilari111 @mikkmmmii @minascasket @indiewritesxoxo @myahfig4 @byakuya61085 @tbzzluvr @coffee-and-geto @miizuzu @blitziwitch @momoewn @gojobiggestslut @mypenguinobject @gojodihh

407 notes · View notes

diz-eaze · 2 months ago

Text

THE WAY I LOVE YOU (yandere! genshin women x female reader)

; soft yandere, written in 2023, pre-sumeru pre-fontaine and pre-natlan, manipulation, unhealthy relationships. characters listed; eula, mona, beidou, ganyu, hu tao, ningguang, shenhe, yelan, ayaka, kokomi, ei, yae, lumine, sandrone, arlecchino.

; Yandere drabbles.

MAYBE YOU had just been in the wrong place and at the wrong time. It started out innocently enough, going outside the city on Mondstadt to explore more areas - because there's more to life than just your everyday city, despite how EULA may protest against it. Despite how she claims that staying in Mondstadt is the best choice.

While you certainly do respect Eula, you disagree with her views. You're not someone born to just be limited within a city - you're not.

And so, with Eula's ignorance, you set off into the dark night to venture out into the green fields. Because you'll be fine, you know that. There's going to be hilichurls milling around but it's nothing that you can't handle, hopefully - you'll just run away or hide when you see one, easy enough.

When you do encounter one, your plan to hide crumbled miserably - not knowing there was a twig in your spot, you ended up stepping on it, resulting in a loud crack and thus alerting the nearby hilichurls. Running away from them isn't an option; you're trapped in your supposed hiding spot as the monsters circle around it.

Fighting back is a possibility, but you're so weak - you don't even have a vision, let alone carry around a weapon. So pray to tell, just how exactly can you win against them?

So, you think with acceptance, this is how you die. Disobeying your dear friend Eula only for you to end up getting mauled by the hilichurls - if you weren't in this life-threatening situation, you'd be embarrassed and sheepishly tell her that she'd been right all along. You can't, obviously.

It's useless to be sentimental, to cry - but you still do, feeling great pity for your friend. If you had just been more logical and accepted Eula's protective tendencies - you'd probably still be inside your apartment back in the city and enjoying the cool breeze.

You're not getting out of here alive and Eula is just going to wake up tomorrow to the news of your disappearance and discover your mangled body out in the wild-

In a split second, it seems like your surroundings looked so surreal as you spot blue in the distance - light blue hair, wielding a blue claymore. Blue, blue, blue. Are you hallucinating now? So desperate to live that your mind started conjuring up false images.

Hallucinating or not, you still hope - because it's the last thing you can do in this situation. But when the distant blur of blur gets closer and the features of the person are clearer - it's been made known to you that it is indeed Eula, angry and worried - but still Eula.

Relief floods into your body and you start crying for a different reason, glad to live to see another day. Because Eula is here to save you - to make sure you get back to the city alive and well. Though, one thought pesters in your mind, rolling around and never leaving you,

How had Eula known you went outside the city at night?

Astrology and magic have never been your strong suit. MONA knows that all too well - which is probably more reason as to why she's hellbent on teaching you what she knows about it. From her expensive books that contained teachings on astrology to her directly guiding you throughout the process of hydromancy, Mona doesn't cut corners when it comes to you.

Because in her eyes, maybe if you come to understand the inner workings of fate the way she does - then maybe you'll begin to find reasons behind her abhorrent actions - reasons why she's adamant when it comes to loving you.

But even as of right now, as Mona's hydro vision pulses with life as she uses her scryglass for live demonstration for you - it still stands true, astrology and magic are not your strong suit. It's not like you're imbecilic - you simply just don't find any reason why you'd take up astrology, especially if it's under the wish of Mona.

Still, just to appease her and keep her sated, you entertain the sessions she holds every day. Without a word of complaint or a sound of a groan - you remain compliant and willing because it's the best you can do in your situation.

Eyes focusing on Mona's hydro scryglass, you lazily copy her actions and summon your own. It's pretty, you'll admit - the scryglass. A wonderful gadget that only talented mages can use, you being part of the lucky ones, all thanks to Mona's hard work and dedication in teaching you. In contrast to Mona's blue one, yours is tinted in a different color - a pleasing shade to your eyes, something that lessens the burden of having to sit through her voice for hours on end.

Mona graciously showers you in praise, pride gleaming in her eyes. Then, with expert hands, she taps and maneuvers through the device - knowing it like the back of her hand. She instructs you to perform a basic spell - a transformative one. Turning an apple into another fruit or turning a frog into an inanimate object, it's simple enough.

As if reading off a manual, you follow what she asks - a tap here and there, and with the help of your vision, you turn a piece of paper into a pencil. You vaguely register Mona clapping and huffing in pride, too focused on the result of your spell.

It's so boring to be here and to learn a field that you have no interest in, and as Mona moves on to the next spell - astrology this time, most likely instructing you how to read the fates of other people - you just feel so numb. It's so lifeless to be stuck with Mona.

But like a robot programmed to do what it's told, you follow her instructions without complaint. Time and time again.

Dragging you out of the sweet comfort of your home into the unforgiving seas is BEIDOU's way of showing her love for you - if you can even classify her obsession as that. It's yesterday, you think, when she broke into your house while you were asleep in order to bring you aboard the ship she commands.

You'll love it out here, she boisterously states when you blearily open your eyes - only to be greeted by the sight of a wooden ceiling with Beidou right beside your new bed. This is home now, she says as she gently caresses your cheek. Me and the crew - we're you're new family!

But to be truthful, you'd rather not. Especially after you've been thrown into this predicament with absolutely no remorse for your personal feelings or comfort. In fact, you still haven't completely wrapped your head around reality before Beidou's hasty and swinging your arm to bring you up to the deck - where all her crewmates lie.

There, she introduces you as her lover. Despite your attempts to butt in and correct her, it's all drowned out by the sounds of the crewmates whooping and hollering - many congratulations are offered to Beidou, it seems that they weren't aware that she had a lover before all of this (even now, she still don't have one - you are not her lover, no matter how much she says so).

After the hype around you being introduced as her lover dies down, Beidou takes initiative to introduce you to each of her crew. And after that, I'll tour you around! - she said, tightly clinging onto your waist and not letting go.

The first you meet is Kazuha, a runaway from Inazuma who decided to stay aboard even after things have settled in his homeland. He's a sweet man - poetry and flowery words drip off his tongue like it's nothing and it brings you a sense of flattery when he earnestly compliments your features. A fact that Beidou takes notice of, as before you knew it, you're whisked away to meet another crewmate - Kazuha fading into the background.

You meet Furong, Sea Drake, and Xu Liushi who are all sailors. Huixing is a navigator and Suling is an ironworker. There are others but their names are only at the tip of your tongue - there but not enough for you to remember clearly.

True to her words, Beidou shortly takes you on a tour around the ship after you've met all of the people aboard. She speaks with enthusiasm and so much joy the whole time that you find yourself being envious of her, wishing that you can be happy even in your current situation.

But you're not. Not when you're here against your will - not when you didn't want to cruise the seas at all. You preferred your quaint apartment back in Liyue harbor than this rocky life as some 'lover' to the captain of the Alcor.

Day offs are rare enough for GANYU, considering her position as secretary and unhealthy work schedule - a complete workaholic, after all. But on the rare occasions where she's granted one, Ganyu makes sure to spend her free time with you. Nothing else.

It doesn't matter if the day is mundane or eventful - such fickle things don't matter to Ganyu, as long as you're there it's more than enough.

Though, it seems that Ganyu wanted to take you out into the harbor for her day off. It's a date, she bashfully tells you when you inquired about it. And so, with a muted sigh, you go inside your room to look for appropriate clothing, seeing as it's an important occasion.

It saddens you a bit at how being able to go outside is now a rare occurrence, but you force yourself to not linger on it too much, Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts - you repeat in your head.

After you pick out a dress - cute and quaint, something that you know Ganyu would enjoy (but she insists that she'll enjoy any outfit that you're wearing, regardless of style), you look for jewelry to match - making sure to pick stones and jewels that suits the blue that Ganyu's hair possesses (It'll please her, you would know).

Because you're not doing this for you, you're doing this for her.

And when you slide the door open, greeted by the sight of Ganyu's awed expression and amazed eyes, you simply smile and thank her (as you have done many times before). She stumbles over, with flushed cheeks and fumbling fingers, to hold your hand - eager to explore the harbor with you by her side, a pretty eye candy.

You giggle at her enthusiasm (A bit too forced than you'd like), and the two of you make your way to the harbor - making idle talk along the way.

This won't be the first time you visit the harbor, but it's been a while. A whole century, if you remember correctly.

After all, the very thing that made Ganyu so attached to you in the first place was your immortality. Someone that can stay by her slides for centuries to come - a person who she doesn't have to fear mortality with.

A perfect fit for her, she'd claim.

During the nighttime, it's normal for the entire city to be sound asleep - with the few exceptions of the millelith on night duty and those who simply have no need to. And at this point, you'd be off to dreamland too, if not for HU TAO, who had persistently dragged you off to Wuhang Hill.

If the two of you were ordinary citizens, it would probably take hours before you'd arrive at the aforementioned destination because of monsters and the like. But as vision bearers, a divine gift from the gods, it was nothing but mere exercise. And so, within an hour or two, you've arrived at the very top - where the creepy forest resides.

Earlier, Hu Tao had joked about her hand being free for you to hold in case you get scared (and you responded by kindly flipping her off), but as you gaze around the mist-heavy forest, you think you'll take her up on that offer. While you're on the edge of being jumpscared by the mere sound of a twig snapping, Hu Tao is at full ease - shoulders drooped and posture relaxed.

"Tao, Why are we even here?" But what you wanted to ask yourself was why did you even agree in the first place?

"Why not?" Comes Hu Tao's lax response, arms crossed behind her head as she mills around the place like she owns it.

You don't reply, unimpressed with her answer. Sensing your displeased attitude, Hu Tao cackles and grabs your shoulders in assurance. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding, We're here to explore, what else?"

"Explore what?" You retort, letting your body get pushed around by her.

"This," Hu Tao gestures to the forest around the two of you. "Duh!"

"Okay," You give in. "Lead the way, miss Hu."

Hu Tao giggles at your words (the sound is nice, you think) and boldly grabs your hand to intertwine with yours. Before you can ask, she beats you to it. "It's so you don't get lost, dummy."

Her hand fits into yours like a perfect puzzle piece (like you're made for her and she's made for you), and you try your best to ignore the way your heart races just thinking about it.

Forcing yourself to stop thinking about it, you smile at Hu Tao and ask her what she's gonna tour to you. It's a secret, she shushes you. So you do - you stay silent and follow where she'll lead you.

"Just make sure you make it quick, Tao." You quietly remind her. "I have plans tomorrow."

She knows, but she can't say it to your face - lest you find out about her stalking you to know your schedule. So Hu Tao grins and nods, grip tightening ever so slowly.

"I will! Don't worry, (Y/N)."

NINGGUANG places a hairpin on the crown of your head; it's a pretty accessory - the hairpin. Designed to imitate a glaze lily and holds the same beauty as the authentic item, it's almost impossible to differentiate the two, if not for the translucent material that the hairpin possesses. The material makes it glitter marvelously under the sunlight and only adds a dreamy gleam when decorated on your tresses.

"A pretty flower for a pretty thing." Ningguang remarks after she's finished securing the piece onto your hair, dainty and perfectly placed - as expected of her. You're sitting on a chair in front of her vanity, all of which screams expensive, bare as the day you were born. She studies your face for a few more seconds before moving on.

The next item to graze your precious skin is a necklace studded in the finest noctilucous jade - the ones that are mined with utmost precision and expertise, all at the order of the tianquan herself. You wouldn't be surprised either if this was custom-made, commissioned to be a glorified collar of yours - an item you will rarely take off and an item meant to symbolize the tianquan's ownership of you.

Still, you smile and thank her earnestly. It's what she taught you, after all.

Ningguang accepts your gratitude with a mirthful chuckle, opting to focus more on her fingers that were faintly tracing along your bare collarbones. Her touch is featherlight and it gives you shivers. After a moment, Ningguang leans in to kiss your lips - her lips are soft and yours are, too. You can still faintly taste the tobacco on her lips, most likely because of her smoking pipe.

For a while, the two of you stay like that - Ningguang savoring your lips as if they were candy and you taking it all, naked with nothing but a glaze lily hairpin and noctilucous jade necklace graced on your body. Ningguang's lips parted from yours slowly (a string of saliva present), maintaining eye contact with you all throughout - the intensity of her red eyes tempts you to look away, but you can't.

So you watch with bated breath as Ningguang wipes away the drool that's close to dripping off your lips.

She leans back soon enough, straying from you for a moment to look for the next item that's blessed enough to be decorated on your body. She comes back, her dainty fingers holding onto two matching sango pearl bracelets, one for each of your hands.

Without command, you hold out your wrists for her to clasp the bracelet on. She does so with such gentleness that it almost hurts, such care that it makes your eyes water - because you've never been loved so thoroughly as Ningguang has before.

Ningguang shushes you because your tears shan't fall for such a measly reason. For her, you deserve to be loved with every fiber of her being, and who would she be if she didn't fulfill that promise?

Prior to meeting you, SHENHE had always thought that she'd never fit into the human world as an adepti-raised mortal. The red ropes that bind her murderous intentions also bind her emotions as a whole - making her a somewhat blank slate of a human. It doesn't mean Shenhe cannot and does not experience emotions - she does, albeit. rarely.

But after Shenhe was blessed to encounter you for the first time, she finally understands what it means to be mortal - to love like one, and to care like one - or at least she thinks so. It's a bit unsettling, how despite the red ropes that bind her homicidal tendencies, some of them are able to bypass such adepti technic, all because of the strong urge to protect you like no other.

You're like a ray of light in Shenhe's bleak world, one that's filled with meditation on top of the mountains and maintaining to control her urges - all of which are repetitive and tedious, but she must, for the better. After meeting you, it opened up a whole new experience for her - the want to accompany you in the harbor, the longing to hold your hand (or maybe give it a quick peck), and the spark in her chest that erupts every time you so much as to smile at her.

You're addicting, Shenhe thinks. A sweet source of dopamine and serotonin - all for her to consume and devour like a man starved.

Sometimes, when you're too busy with life to invite Shenhe to hang out, she takes it upon herself to monitor your movement and watch your day as you mingle about - trying to bury the urge to slam the man down the concrete who previously flirted with you (patience is a virtue and it would be best to strike when there are no witnesses around).

Shene follows you from a distance, not too far to not see you and not too close to be detected - she's self-aware enough that you would not take it kindly if you were to discover the acts that she's been committing, such as stalking and murder. Not that she plans on stopping, she simply worries at the prospect of you distancing yourself from her - which would no doubt break her heart.

So, with skilled precision, Shenhe continues to follow you - remaining undetected with such ease that it's almost unfair.

She's doing this all for you, the love of her life.

Every high-ranking member of the society within the Liyue harbor knows that the Yanshang teahouse is actually a casino, a discreet establishment that only operates during the nighttime - where the gamblers come to life, ready to take on anyone that dares to. And as the owner, YELAN is obliged to indulge in the games that her own casino offers - all while you stick by her side like the good housewife that you are.

Every time you pass by those that occupy the casino, you're always met with curious glances and stupefied stares - Yelan wouldn't blame them, she knows you're a beauty and it's her job to ensure that the clothes and jewelry you're wearing tonight only amplifies this. It's not a crime to show off your significant other, after all.

The dress you're wearing is revealing, beautiful and tantalizing - all for her to undress when the time comes later in the night. It's a color that perfectly complements your (Hair color) hair and (Eye color) eyes, it's so you. The pieces of jewelry hanging off your body only adds more sparkle and expense to your charm - unaffordable to anyone else in the casino, save for Yelan.

But when some stare longer than she'd like, Yelan would bring you closer to her side - hands gripping onto your waist ever so tightly. She's a possessive lover, one that loves to show off - but still possessive nonetheless.

Soon, she settles down for a bit to play a quick game of poker - making sure that you sit down in her lap like the pretty eye candy that you're meant to be. Yelan is lax throughout the entire ordeal, never once letting up on her poker face, and when she inevitably wins - she gives an easy smile before collecting her prize and whisking you away, too.

You see the enraged face of her defeated opponents, though you say nothing. Whatever enemies and allies Yelan makes is none of your business, you're here to sit still and look pretty - not to blabber and annoy. This is something that she drilled into your pretty, empty head - back when your relationship was forced and loveless on your part (now, it's not much different, save for your newfound acting skills).

What she does is none of your business, Yelan is the moneymaker in your relationship - the one that works to bring home money to her adorable wife. While you, as the pretty housewife, is tasked to prepare her delicious homecooked meals and a loving embrace to come home to.

It doesn't matter that you, too, wanted to have a normal job. What Yelan wants, you oblige.

It's always been that way.

Usually, AYAKA would be the one who had an audience. It's her that has eyes all focused on. It's her that catches their captivation. But right now, the star of the show isn't her.

It's you.

You, dancing on the water and defying its properties with your vision. You, dressed in an intricately designed garb for this performance. You, looking as ethereal as the day she first laid her eyes on. You, who moves with grace and practice that only experienced performers could do.

You, you, you.

Ayaka watches with bated breath, utterly hypnotized with everything you do - like she was just a puppet on a string, and you, her puppeteer. She likes to think that during your performances, it's just you and her - no one else.

Just the two of you, entrapped in your own little bubble with no outside disturbances.

Of course, that thought is quick to crumble when your performance ends and the entire audience begins to clap, reminding Ayaka that other people get to see you, too.

Acknowledging it leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, denial, and jealousy mixing together like a perfect combination. She knows she has no right to act, let alone feel, like this - you aren't hers (as much as she wants it) and she isn't yours.

Really, Ayaka doubts you even knew her. Your relationship with her is nothing but a performer and a watcher. Nothing more.

(She hates it.)

But she can't just admit defeat like this, can she? Ayaka is a Kamisato, a noble family in Inazuma. Surely, with enough of a push, you'll come to her if she used her influence, no?

And she'll welcome you with open arms, too. Then, your performances will only be limited to her eyes and hers only - no one else within the audience as you dance and sing around for her.

Just like how it should be.

She'll even be the one to wake you up every morning, the one to dress you up and usher you to the dining room. No servant within the Kamisato estate deserves to see you bare and pretty - no, that sight should just be reserved for only her.

And maybe, somewhere down the line, she'll court you to earn your hand in marriage - just like what the fairytales do.

As the divine priestess of the Watatsumi island and tactician, KOKOMI holds a myriad of responsibilities, resulting in her work piling up with each day. From the complaints of citizens to negotiations with the shogun's army - Kokomi handles it all, with grace.

And with so many responsibilities to hold, Kokomi is bound to be burdened with stress. But, she doesn't mind.

Not when her cute stress reliever is you, after all.

There are countless actions she can command you to do and you'd do so in a heartbeat, but Kokomi finds that making you read aloud to her is the best.

Books read by your precious voice are a blessing to her ears. The genre of the book itself does not matter, whether it be a cheesy romance novel or a dictionary, anything you read is bound to be amazing - it's you.

So, with her head laid in your lap, and you preparing to begin reading a novel - Kokomi's accumulated stress from the week can already be felt vanishing.

"What novel is that, love?" Kokomi's soft voice questions, fingers lightly tracing the spine of the book.

You don't respond, choosing to read aloud instead.

The plane of euthymia unsettles you - EI knows that. But that doesn't stop her from forcefully keeping you within while the puppet handles the outside affairs, leading to Ei devoid of any disturbances and worries. Just her and you. As it always should.

The place is bleak and suffocating - the red hurts your eyes and the atmosphere is downright depressing, you wonder how Ei can live like this. To lock herself up and spend centuries meditating inside this plane - unlike you, who can't stand being here any longer.

You don't want to be here, you made it known from the very start. And yet, like a persistent bug, Ei ignores it in favor of meditating while you're within her eyesight - safe from any threats and dangers, or so she claims.

Yet, you don't have a choice - much less stand a chance against Ei when it comes to confrontation. What can you, a measly human, do in face of an archon?

As distasteful it is to admit, nothing.

It's best you keep your mouth shut and indulge Ei on her whims, lest you anger the god of eternity.

Grand narukami shrine is, well, grand. The exterior of the place is nothing short of breathtaking - the way the buildings were structured so intricately and the shrine maidens out and about only add a comforting air to the place. Not to mention the sacred sakura tree that's shaped into a fox - no doubt well taken care of by YAE.

For all this beauty and pleasing view from the top, it does not quench your longing to venture past this mountain - to experience more of Inazuma than what this place has to offer. Of course, the head priestess is opposed to that, for she condescendingly tells you that such musings bring nothing but demise to your life. Don't you know? The outside world is nothing short of traumatising, you're better off staying here - where your dear protector can keep you safe.

You protest and protest against her for what it's worth yet you're shot down each and every single time - Yae is always ready with a convenient excuse to tell you off. It's frustrating, to be treated like you know nothing better and that you're a dumb, stupid woman when you're clearly much more than that.

But every time you get the strength to potentially fight back against her, Yae's mischievous attitude crumbles apart - in place a stern facial expression that dares you to oppose against her - her, who is your lifeline. Her, who so graciously saved you from a life of poverty by letting you work for the grand narukami shrine. Her, who loves you as no one else will.

Yae supposes that she spoiled you too much. Maybe it's time for punishment? To remind you of your place.

Despite it all, you're grateful for the way LUMINE lets you travel around Teyvat - as long as you're with her, of course. It could be worse, you know. You've seen the way other people aren't allowed past the borders of their nation, sometimes even the comforts of their homes - you pity people like that. You truly do.

Paimon stays silent about the nature of your relationship, which is probably for the best (much to your chagrin). For a terrible liar, so far Paimon has been nothing but amazing in keeping her mouth silent - unlike her usual blabber mouth-self.

The first time Lumine took you to Mondstadt, she had introduced you there as her lover. Sweet and loving, is what your relationship appeared to the public eye with Paimon there to back it up. Still, the scope of green fields lessened your devastation to the situation - bringing comfort, even if just a little bit.

Liyue was eye-catching, the harbor built upon intricate buildings and rich history. Lumine toured you around where the population was at its peak - resulting in many curious eyes wondering just who you were to the savior of Liyue. A lover, perhaps?

You weren't able to enter Inazuma, not after the sakoku decree was lifted. Lumine told you the atmosphere was much more grim and cold when she first arrived, as opposed to the lively people and foreigners now plaguing the streets. She brought you along for the Irodori festival, where she made sure to conceal you from prying eyes - afraid that others would take a liking to you.

Yes, despite it all - no matter how suffocating her love is - you're truly grateful for the way Lumine lets you roam free. Or as free as you can be under her tight grip.

SANDRONE is known for her unpredictable outbursts - something that's more prone whenever you're involved. For this reason, the Fatui recruits make sure to distance themselves far away from you in order to not invoke the wrath of the marionette.

Unfortunately, not every underling can get the unspoken rule immediately - leading to dire mistakes so early on in their lives. How unfortunate - not that you can be of any help to them.

Especially when you're given a front-row seat by yours truly, where you're given a perfect view of just how she can turn this supposedly hideous man into an even more unsightly doll.

In the beginning, you vehemently protested - thrashed, shook, and pleaded for her to have an ounce of mercy. Though, now, you know better and choose to keep silent - blankly staring ahead with no visible emotion on your face.

When the scissors come into contact with the man's collarbone, ripping a scream out of his throat, you know that the show has begun.

It's only a matter of time until the poor Fatui recruit is transformed into a doll. Or a corpse, if Sandrone was feeling generous.

ou don't like children. That much you relayed to ARLECCHINO on your first meeting. At that time, she simply nodded her head and continued on with finishing her meal. Back then, when the two of you had only met - neither of you was aware of what would spiral down with this relationship.

Looking back at it now, you wished you never met the knave. Since it lead to where you are now, taking care of the orphans like you're someone being paid to do so - when in reality it's just Arlecchino wanting some sick version of play house.

But, you sigh and continue on with taking care of the countless children that the house of hearth houses. Endure, endure, endure - you tell yourself this every day, you'll break free from her soon enough. You can't stay here forever, it's illogical.

Or at least, you hope so.

291 notes · View notes

witchezandwonderz · 1 month ago

Text

Not Made to Kneal

Pairing: Ivar x Reader Word Count: 5.6k (did not expect this to be so long but I just couldn't stop writing it.) Ivar captures a Saxon girl Master list Prompt List (Requests are open) Tagged list: (If you want to be added or removed, please let me know.) @leftoverp1zza @somebody6468 @cheesesandwichsanto @diorpar @tessakate @miksmom-blog @whitedarkmoonflower @imagines-halfpai

(Image owned by myself- please do not use)

The smoke had not yet cleared.

It clung to the stone walls of the chapel like a shroud, curling into the rafters, trailing from the tips of broken candles. Outside, the sound of steel on flesh had faded, replaced now by the wails of the living and the uncomfortable silence of the dead.

She knelt in the pews, hands bloodied- not from battle but from tending those the battle had forgotten. A boy no older than eight clung to her skirts, his face smeared with soot. She stroked his hair absently, eyes fixed on the great oak door that would not hold for much longer. She wasn't a healer. Far from it. She was merely a girl. Well, young woman.

They had came.

The Northmen.

They knew it was coming, they just were not sure when. And there was nothing that could have prepared them for the sheer volatile actions that had played out.

Monsters, the priests had called them. Wolves in men’s flesh, come to tear down all that was good and holy. She had believed that once. But now, sitting amongst the wounded in a chapel that stank of blood and burning, she no longer believed in monsters- only men, and the things that they chose to do.

The door groaned. Splintered. Then shattered.

She considered pretending to be dead, but what if that ended up working against her?

The first of them entered in a storm of fur and iron, weapons raised, breath rising in the cold. She rose slowly, placing herself between them and the injured.

“Leave them,” she said, voice calm. “They cannot fight you.”

The warriors paused, exchanging glances. She expected mockery, violence- but it did not come. A hand went up, a command in a language she did not understand. The men stood down.

Then he entered.

Her breath hitched, thoughts whirling around in her mind as chaotically as ships on the sea within a harsh storm.

He did not stride like the others. He moved strangely, dragging one leg, leaning heavily on iron crutches carved with runes. His face was pale and sharp, his eyes the coldest thing she had ever seen- not angry, no. Almost hungry, and strangely excited.

Ivar the Boneless.

She knew the name. The youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok. The one who did not bleed like other men. A heathen prince with ice in his veins and no mercy in his heart.

He looked at her, a blank look on his face.

“And what are you, then?” he asked, his accent thick and foreign. “A nun? A healer? Or just brave enough to pretend you don’t fear me?”

She lifted her chin, pride standing in between them both, almost like a faux protection. “What I am matters little. What I will not do is beg.”

He tilted his head, intrigued. “Good. I tire of begging. You are too pretty of a woman to beg.” He smirked.

He stepped closer. The boy behind her whimpered. She did not flinch.

He smiled.

“Take her,” he said to his men. “Gently."

She did not react to his words, or respond to him. Instead, she quickly turned around so that she was facing the child and whispered "run."

Without a second thought, the boy took off as fast as he could, using his size to his advantage by slipping through the tiny gap within the door. The men braced themselves, ready to capture him, but Ivar stopped them and allowed him to run, strangely.

He watched the child disappear into the smoke and ruin out of the window, a small shadow swallowed by the city’s grief.

No one spoke.

The men first looked at each other, and then looked to Ivar, uncertain. He was not known for mercy-least of all toward Saxon brats who might live to raise a blade against him. But he merely tilted his head again, as if listening to something no one else could hear.

Perhaps he had voices in his head, she thought.

“You let him go,” she said quietly, almost in disbelief.

“I did,” Ivar replied, a sarcastic, sweet smile on his lips. “Shall I regret it?”

She turned to face him once more, eyes steady. “Only if you fear the vengeance of a child.”

He laughed. “Fear?” he echoed. “No. I’m curious to see if he lives long enough to remember me.”

A long silence passed between them. The chapel behind her was emptying now, wounded and dead alike being hauled away by the Danes. Still, Ivar did not take his eyes from her.

“What is your name, girl?” he asked, lowering himself slightly, his arms resting on the handles of his crutches, his eyes piercing into hers.

“Y/N ” she answered. “Daughter of no one you’d care to remember.”

“Y/N." he repeated, testing the shape of it in his mouth. “It sounds too soft for a woman with steel in her spine, I usually hate these Saxon names but I quite like this." He said, before repeating her name once again. She tried not to crack a smile, for although he had proven himself awful, he was quite amusing.

He motioned again to his men.

This time, they approached with less hesitation. One of them reached for her arm, but she pulled it away, not violently- just enough to remind them she was not theirs.

“I can walk, I am not a hound." she scowled at the man, he, confused looked at Ivar. Ivar was the only one there who could speak her language.

Ivar’s smile widened. “Good. Then walk with me.”

He turned before she could answer, limping from the chapel without looking back. She followed, because the only other choice was to die, and something in her, something burning and quiet, refused to give him the satisfaction.

Outside, York lay in ruins, winter ash falling like snow.

She had thought about this day since she was a child, yet, she thought that when it happened she would be dead with the rest of them. She also thought that she would feel emotional, and strangely did not feel anything. Maybe that was what adrenaline and shock did to you.

The cold hit her harder than expected as they stepped outside.

The sky hung low and grey, the kind of grey that sucked the colour from everything. Like the universe knew of the traumas of the day. Buildings once proud now stood in silence, some broken entirely, others smouldering like wounded beasts. The streets were slick with ash, snow, and blood- and the mingled stench of all three coated her tongue, and she felt slightly nauseous.

Men cheered in the distance- drunk on victory or drink itself. Others dragged spoils through the streets: barrels of ale, sacks of grain, women who did not walk willingly. Y/N forced herself not to look too long.

She followed Ivar in silence.

They passed a group of Danes surrounding a young monk, his robes torn, his face bloodied but unbowed. One of the warriors raised his axe.

“Stop,” Ivar said lazily, glanced over his shoulder at her and then commanded them to kill him once they had passed. She, of course, could not understand the command.

The axe froze mid-air. The men muttered, but backed away.

The monk, blinking through blood, looked directly at Y/N. She gave him the faintest nod- not a promise, but an acknowledgment. He was still breathing. That had to be enough.

"Please let them put him out of his misery." She asked Ivar, yet her pride wouldn't allow her to form it as a question. He was pleasantly surprised by her request; he assumed that she would want him to live. He shouted in old Norse, and winced as she heard his screams.

"Is this what your Christian god tells you to do?" He asked, still walking.

Y/N shrugged, "I do not believe in the Christian god." She stated, blankly. Ivar stopped suddenly and turned to her, sheer disbelief clouding his expression.

He let out a laugh, "You expect me to believe this?"

She mimicked his laugh, hers displaying much more sarcasm than intended, "You assume that all Saxons believe in the Christian god? Most do, but some, like me, pretend." She explained, and then looked around her, gesturing to the debris of her once home, "I do not see any point in pretending now."

"So who do you worship?" He asked quickly, like he needed to know immediately. He hoped she said Norse gods such as Odin, yet he knew that was highly unlikely.

She shrugged once again, "I worship the earth, the sun, nature and the world as we know it." She said simply, "that is what my people once worshiped."

Ivar grinned broadly, he liked that answer. She was teaching him things that he did not know. He respected that.

Eventually, they reached the steps of a commandeered manor house. It had once belonged to a merchant or alderman- the quality of the stone, the carvings, the remnants of wealth told the story. Now it bore the mark of the conquerors: shields leaned against the door, blood on the lintel, smoke curling from the hearth within.

Ivar turned to her at the threshold.

“This is mine now,” he said, casually. “So I suppose it’s yours, too.”

She blinked. “I didn't ask to be given anything.”

“No,” he said, eyes dancing. “But you've already taken up space in my thoughts. I find that annoying.”

He entered first. The walls echoed as his crutch brutally collided with the floor.

She followed, wary.

Inside, the warmth was jarring- firelight flickering across the walls, the smell of burning wood and roasted meat heavy in the air. Furs lined the benches, and carved bones lay scattered on a nearby table- runes, perhaps, or simple games. The world outside felt far away in here, like a dream she’d woken from too soon.

Ivar dropped onto a broad chair at the end of the long hall, his crutches cast aside like discarded weapons. Without them, he looked somehow more vulnerable- but no less dangerous. Definitely not.

“Sit,” he said, nodding to the fur-draped bench across from him.

Y/N remained standing. “You’ve brought me here for a reason. Say it.”

He smirked, drumming his fingers on the table.

“You’ve no interest in pleasing me, I see. Not even pretending.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” She lied, clasping her hands together to appear noble, but in actuality, she clasped them to prevent him from seeing her shaking hands.

“You should be.”

She tilted her head, the firelight catching in her eyes. “If you were going to kill me, you’d have done it already. If you were going to hurt me, you'd not have said ‘gently.’ So what am I here for, Ivar the Boneless?”

His eyes lingered on her. Something thoughtful flickered behind them- or maybe something lonely. Hard to say. Then, softly:

“I want to understand you.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because you looked at me like a man,” he said. “Not a monster. I don’t know if that makes you brave… or foolish.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, her voice steady. “Time will tell.”

He laughed at her response, "you are unlike any woman I have met." He said, his eyes still locked into hers.

"Then you must not have met many women." She retaliated. He titled his head to the side slightly,

"perhaps not." He agreed. "You will be my... assistant."

"Assistant?" She clarified, disbelief and uncertainty laced within her tone.

"Assistant." He repeated in a soft voice, closing his eyes and nodding as he said it.

"Is that a nicer way of saying slave?"

Ivar opened his eyes again, slow and deliberate. He didn’t smile this time.

“No,” he said, voice low. “If you were my slave, you wouldn’t be speaking to me like that.”

“Then what am I?” She pressed, folding her arms.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze raking over her- not with lust, but with calculation. As if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Or perhaps a threat he wasn’t yet ready to name.

"annoying," he answered swiftly, and when she reacted with a hurtful expression, he laughed. After all of the hurt that he has caused today, the only thing that seemed to hurt her personally was a comment that he did not even mean. She did not respond.

“You’re something in between,” he said finally, this time being serious. “Not Saxon. Not Dane. Not free. Not mine." He glanced up at her, "yet."

Her stomach tightened, but she kept her face still.

“I don’t like cages,” she said.

“Why would I put you in a cage?" He asked rhetorically. She knew the question wasn't to be answered, because when she parted her lips to respond, he continued speaking. "I do not like cages either, I was born in a cage, my father was kept in a cage before his death. I do not have a good relationship with cages." Although his voice was blunt, and his face was blank, his words carried emotion. She wasn't quite sure what kind, but there was emotion nonetheless.

“You’ll stay here,” he continued. “Keep your eyes open. Your mouth shut- when it suits me. Learn our ways. Translate when needed. And don’t lie to me.”

“Is that all?” she asked coolly, a false sweetness to her tone. He chose to ignore that.

“For now.” He paused, then added, almost amused, “Unless you plan to stab me in my sleep.”

She met his gaze evenly. “Would it work?”

He grinned. “No.”

Y/N didn’t smile back, but something in her shifted. A strange, uneasy truce had been born- not peace, not trust, but something else. Recognition, maybe. Or fate, tightening its threads.

“I’ll take you to your quarters,” Ivar said, reaching for his crutches. “It’s not a cage. But it has a door.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does it lock from the outside?”

His lips twitched. “It locks when I say it does.”

She nodded, and watched as he began to stand up. It was in this moment, that the door swung open and a man with long hair entered the room. He strode in, confidence being an obvious and familiar trait to him. Ivar did not look pleased that he had entered.

“Brother,” the man said with a booming voice that echoed off the stone walls. He raised both arms wide, a grin plastered across his face. “I was told you had shown kindness, and I thought it was a joke.” The laugh that followed was loud and entirely too carefree.

Ivar’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move, keeping his focus fixed on the man who had entered- Hvitserk, his brother.

Y/N watched the interaction closely, the air thickening as Hvitserk made his way further into the room. There was something in the way he carried himself that was different from Ivar. He moved with ease, as if the world already bent to his will.

“Ivar,” Hvitserk continued, his gaze briefly flitting over to her with a smirk. "this is the girl? What’s your name, Saxon?”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to Ivar for a moment, searching his expression, and she saw it-the flicker of a warning. She looked at him, almost for permission. He didn’t want them to meet. She could feel the undercurrent of something building, and it wasn’t a good feeling. Begrudgingly, he nodded at her.

“I am Y/N,” she said, her voice steady, deliberately not engaging in the casual mockery Hvitserk seemed to enjoy.

Hvitserk chuckled, taking a few steps closer to her, his smile widening. “Y/N… I like the way that sounds. Almost as soft as your people.”

Ivar’s jaw clenched. He shifted slightly in his seat, eyes narrowing on Hvitserk. "Hvitserk," he muttered, low and dangerous, but Hvitserk wasn't paying attention to him anymore.

“You are lucky to be in the presence of a man like Ivar,” Hvitserk said, his eyes never leaving Y/N. “Not every woman would survive such an introduction. But then, I suppose, you aren’t entirely… like the others.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. Her voice was sharp as she replied, “Perhaps not.”

Hvitserk’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the banter. But before he could say anything more, Ivar’s cold voice broke through the moment.

“She’s mine to deal with, not yours,” Ivar snapped, his eyes fixed on his brother. “Leave her be.”

The playful expression faltered for a moment on Hvitserk’s face. “Are you seriously going to claim her already?” he asked, taking a step closer, his voice shifting into a more mocking tone. “She’s no more than a Saxon, Ivar. A woman, and a soft one at that.” He looked Y/N over once more, then back at Ivar. “Tell me, is she even worth your time? You’re no man to her. Not really.”

The words hit like a dagger, not only was he speaking of her as though she was an object, placed in the centre of the room, but Y/N wasn’t prepared to just sit back and let them pass. She straightened up, her spine stiff with defiance.

“Funny,” she began, her voice laced with sarcasm, “I could have sworn a man isn’t measured by the blood in his veins, but the steel in his spine. But then again, I’m not a warrior, am I?” She turned toward Hvitserk, her gaze hardening. “I suppose you’d know more about that than anyone, considering your endless need to talk about it.”

Hvitserk’s eyes flickered with confusion for a split second before he recovered, but the damage had been done. The smugness faded from his expression, replaced by a flash of irritation that was quick to follow.

Y/N took a step forward, not backing down. “You stand here judging Ivar, yet you’ve been nothing but a grating voice in my 'soft' mind. Just because you can speak loudly doesn’t make your words worth hearing.”

Her eyes flickered to Ivar briefly before returning to Hvitserk. “And, I must say... Ivar might not be your idea of a man, but he’s certainly more of one than you. Far more impressive, more capable, and much, much more handsome."

Ivar’s eyes flicked to her with a mixture of surprise and something else, but he remained silent, watching.

Hvitserk, caught off guard, narrowed his eyes, a quick flash of irritation crossing his face. “You think-”

“I do,” she cut him off smoothly, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “He doesn’t need to shout to command attention. Unlike you.”

The room hung in silence for a moment as Hvitserk processed her words. His expression twisted with frustration, and for once, his bravado was no match for her sharpness. He cleared his throat and turned to Ivar, a flicker of unease passing through his eyes.

“Is this how things are now, brother?” Hvitserk asked, his tone softer but still laced with irritation. “You let the Saxons talk back to you?”

Ivar, ever so composed, looked at him with a cool expression. “If you’ve finished, Hvitserk." He raised his hand, signalling towards the door.

The challenge in the air was palpable. Hvitserk’s smirk quickly faded, replaced by a faint glimmer of embarrassment. He took one last glance at Y/N before turning towards the door.

“I’ll let you have your fun, brother,” Hvitserk said, a final flicker of mockery in his voice. “But remember… I don’t share.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

Y/N stood there, the briefest of smiles still lingering on her lips. It was then that Ivar, his eyes still on the door, muttered quietly, “You don’t know what you’ve just done.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze coolly. “Perhaps he will kill me." She shrugged, showing little care for consequence.

Ivar seemed momentarily taken aback by her boldness, but a faint glimmer of approval, mixed with a touch of amusement, flickered in his eyes. It was the first time she’d seen him look genuinely impressed.

“You are more than I thought,” he said under his breath, before turning away and reaching for his crutches. “Come. I’ll show you your quarters.”

As they made their way down the stone hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoed in the silence. Ivar limped slightly ahead, his crutches tapping against the cold stone floor with each step. Y/N followed closely, but there was a subtle shift between them now.

The brief encounter with Hvitserk had rattled him, but it also made something stir in Ivar. His mind was preoccupied, but he wasn’t one to show vulnerability, not even to the Saxon woman walking behind him.

He broke the silence first, his voice low but purposeful.

“You know,” he began, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was listening, “most people find it hard to believe that I’m capable of… kindness, or mercy, as you witnessed earlier. But what I really want to know,” he said, tilting his head as though to examine her reaction, “is whether you truly see me as... a man.”

Y/N’s eyebrow arched slightly, but she said nothing, simply waiting for him to continue.

“I mean,” he added with a sly smile, “it’s obvious I’m not exactly the traditional kind of man, is it? I don't look like a Viking warrior who can swing an axe with one hand and strike fear into a hundred men with a single glare.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “But I wonder if you, in your infinite wisdom, still see me as such.”

Y/N raised her chin slightly, meeting his gaze, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at her lips. “What is it you’re asking me, Ivar? Because, I do not understand this confusion. Yes, you do look like a warrior, and yes you quite clearly are a man.”

He glanced down at her, his eyes piercing through hers with an intensity that could make anyone’s heart skip a beat. He tried to hide how pleased he was with her answer. He let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again.

“I'm asking if you think I’m handsome, Y/N. Not in the way men are usually called handsome -you know, the broad-shouldered, wild-eyed way most of these men like to think they are.” He gave a small, self-aware smirk. “No one has ever described me as handsome.”

His tone was teasing, but there was something in the way he said it- a challenge. He wasn't just asking for vanity’s sake. He wanted to see if her perception of him matched what he thought of himself. If she could see beyond his physical appearance, beyond the ruthless side of him that everyone else saw, and truly understand the man he was beneath all the layers of power and pride.

Yet, Y/N did not know of his true past, his true insecurities. She did not know of his life long torments, or that his brothers comments had allowed him to believe that he was nothing. Despite all, she truly thought that he was the embodiment of handsome.

Y/N considered him for a moment, weighing her words. She could have given a simple answer, but she chose to take her time, her gaze unwavering.

“I think you’re very handsome” she replied finally, her voice smooth and simple.

The words hung between them like a challenge, but there was no mockery in her tone. It was simple. Honest. She could see what others might overlook. The way his eyes caught the light, the sharpness of his jawline, the way his presence demanded attention-despite the imperfection that defined him. She wasn’t blind to that. He had, after all, just killed her entire village, so she supposed that was not a necessarily attractive trait.

He tilted his head, an almost imperceptible surprise flickering in his expression, before it was masked again by his usual self-assured, false arrogance.

“You think so?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze searching hers. There was a spark of something in his eyes, something like curiosity, maybe even doubt.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she replied evenly, her gaze unwavering. “You have broad shoulders, strong features, and your eyes…” She let the words linger in the air. “They’re beautiful, Ivar.”

He let out a soft, amused breath, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles, though he said nothing. It wasn’t the answer he expected, but it was the one he had wanted, deep down.

"Why are you asking me this, anyway? You must have women clawing to get your attention and affections." She asked innocently. She did not know the half of the reality.

Ivar’s smirk faded as he processed her question, his eyes narrowing slightly. He wasn’t used to being asked about his relationships or affections-not in the way she phrased it. He wasn’t sure if she was toying with him, trying to see if he would admit something about his past, or if she was truly oblivious to the nature of his life. Either way, it struck a nerve.

“Clawing for my attention?” He let out a short, cold laugh. His voice was laced with a bitterness he hadn’t meant to show, but there it was. “Not quite. Women are hardly ever interested in me.” His tone was surprisingly frank, though there was a bitterness to it. He shot her a glance, gauging her reaction before continuing.

He paused, and for a brief moment, it almost seemed like he was truly thinking about the words coming out of his mouth. Then, he spoke again, his voice lower, more controlled. “You see, women, they’re usually horrified by me. They look at me, at my body... they see only the broken man, the crippled thing with no worth.”

Ivar’s lips twisted into a half-smile, but there was no humour in it. His gaze dropped to the ground for a moment before meeting hers again. “They flock to my brothers instead. Hvitserk, Bjorn… They’re the ones women want. The strong, handsome ones. The ones who don’t... limp, or drag themselves around.” He spoke with a sharp edge, as if the words had been stuck inside him for a long time.

There was a brief pause as his frustration simmered, but he quickly masked it with a sneer. “So, no, I don’t have women clawing for my attention. Not in the way you might think.”

His jaw clenched, and a flicker of something-vulnerability, maybe-passed over his face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Ivar immediately changed his posture, straightening up slightly as though to regain control.

Y/N, lost in the moment, and forgetting the events of the day, softly touched his arm with her hand. "Ivar-"

“Enough of this,” he said abruptly, shaking his head and looking away, his tone shifting back to his usual arrogance. “You’re just trying to make me... soft. I don’t need that. You don’t need to know any more about me.”

The tension in his voice was palpable, as if he were angry at himself for saying so much. He took a deep breath and glanced back at her, his usual hard expression now firmly in place. He nearly wavered, however, when he saw her sigh, and saw a flash of hurt in her eyes.

"Come. I’ll show you your quarters," he said, gesturing to the door. The sudden change in his demeanor was as swift as it was noticeable-he had shut down again, retreating into the shell he was more comfortable with. Now she understood what people meant when they referred to him as unpredictable.

As he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice cold and dismissive once more. “Let’s not talk about this again. I’ll not indulge you further, Y/N.”

She nodded, accepting his words. He turned to leave, and began to walk away, but stopped when she heard him call his name. He popped his head back through the door and looked at her expectantly.

"Thank you." She said softly, with a genuine smile. She meant it, for he could have killed her, but he did not.

Without a word, he gave a single nod before disappearing down the hallway, his crutches tapping steadily as he moved away from her.

Weeks passed, and as the days bled into one another, something between Y/N and Ivar had undeniably shifted. What had once been an uneasy truce was now something more complicated, something that neither of them could deny. They were no longer just captor and captive, but something... different. Something fragile, yet undeniable.

Ivar had begun to trust her in ways he never thought possible, and though he would never admit it aloud, he found himself craving her presence in a way he couldn’t explain. She saw him for more than just the monster others thought he was. And slowly, despite all his efforts to keep her at a distance, she had become someone he couldn’t ignore. Deep down, he could not be shocked, this was bound to happen.

It wasn’t often they spent time together without someone else around. Most of the time, Y/N stayed in her quarters while Ivar dealt with his duties. Yet, now and then, he would find some excuse to be near her. He’d bring her something- a trinket from the raid, a new book, or something odd that had caught his attention and made him think of her. Little things, but to him, they were gestures that carried meaning.

On one evening in particular, the great hall buzzed with the low roar of men celebrating, the smell of roasted meat and smoke hanging thick in the air. Warriors boasted of their kills and drank heavily from horns of ale. Ivar sat in his throne, quiet, watchful- his presence always commanding, always feared.

Y/N was seated to his right, not a prisoner, not quite free, but something else entirely. She no longer wore the look of someone surviving. Now, she carried herself with a calm strength that drew just as many eyes as Ivar’s silence did.

Eirik entered- a seasoned warrior and one of Ivar’s most trusted men. Tall, smug, with a sharp grin and a reputation for overstepping when drunk.

He approached with too much confidence, emboldened by drink and the sound of laughter. “Ivar,” he called with false cheer, “you’ve been hiding her from us too long.” He glanced toward Y/N with eyes that lingered too long. “A beauty like this shouldn’t be caged away at your side like a falcon. She should be flying.”

Ivar didn’t move.

Eirik took another step forward, crossing the invisible line that kept most men at a respectful distance. “Let me see her smile,” he said, reaching down, hand brushing along Y/N’s shoulder- light, but unmistakably invasive.

That’s when the world stopped.

There was a sound- metal on wood- as Ivar pushed himself to his feet, one crutch falling with a loud crack against the stone. His face was unreadable, but his eyes burned.

“Touch her again,” he said, voice low and venomous, “and I will cut off your hand and make you wear it around your neck.”

Eirik chuckled nervously, trying to wave it off. “Come now, Ivar. Don’t tell me you’re in love with the Saxon girl.”

Then it snapped.

With a roar that turned every head in the room, Ivar lunged-dagger flashing. The blade sank deep into Eirik’s side, and again, and again, faster than anyone could stop it. Gasps erupted as blood spattered across the floor and Eirik fell, coughing and clawing at the wound.

Silence fell like a curtain.

Ivar stood over him, chest heaving, hand stained red. His expression twisted-not with regret, but with something far more dangerous.

Obsession.

“She is not yours to speak of,” he growled at him as though he was still alive to listen. “Not yours to look at. Not yours to touch. She is mine.” He shouted.

He turned then, toward the crowd, his voice rising-louder now, without shame. “I have slaughtered kings for less than what you just did. Do you think I would hesitate to kill a friend for her?”

No one moved.

He turned to Y/N, gaze softer but still intense. She looked up at him and gulped, scared but slightly and strangely honoured. His voice dropped again, ragged with truth. “You don’t understand what you’ve done to me. I can’t breathe for wanting you. I’d burn the world to keep your eyes on me. That is what you mean to me.”

The silence in the great hall was heavy, every eye fixed on him.

He turned slowly to face the crowd, his voice rising- unshaken, loud, raw.

“Yes,” he said, tilting his head and daring any man to challenge him, “I am in love with the Saxon girl.”

A few murmurs, but no one spoke loud enough to be heard.

“I don’t care that she’s not one of us. I don’t care that she’s not some shieldmaiden. She’s mine. And if any of you so much as look at her with anything less than reverence -you’ll join Eirik.”

Then, without hesitation, he turned back to her. Everyone was still watching, but Y/N didn’t see them anymore. There was only him.

She stepped forward, close enough that her voice didn’t need to rise- close enough that it could be just for him.

“I would do anything for you,” she whispered, her eyes locked into his. “Not because I owe you, or because I’m afraid. But because I see you, Ivar. All of you. And I love what I see.”

It was more than he could bear.

He reached for her as if she might vanish- one hand cradling her face, the other pulling her gently closer. And then, as if no one else existed, he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It was all fire, and truth, and desperation. She kissed him back just as fiercely- not out of fear, or obligation, but because she meant every word she’d said.

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

Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated :)

Again, my requests are open so feel free to ask. Prompt list is linked at the top if you wish to use that<3

#vikings fanfiction #vikings #vikings ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader

97 notes · View notes

apollodarling-writes · 10 months ago

Text

yan! catboy! worshipper! levi

desc : you picked up a stray catboy from the alleyway and you find that maybe he has more problems than you’re equipped to deal with.

word count : 812

cws : yandere themes, scenting, jealous levi, dubcon implications, smut implications, murder mentions but it’s levi killing his competition and bringing it back as a gift and to prove he’s better than them, slight delusional thinking, desperate clingy bf behavior but you’re not dating and he’s more of an estranged roommate, MASSIVE personality switch up, ooc levi but i genuinely wanna see this man desperate and begging, implied dissociation, this is kind of bad im ngl.

author note : someone requested this, sorry it took so long to get to it. also, here’s a little something i had in my drafts while i finish editing this commission.

you remember how pitiful levi had looked in that alleyway — his clothes torn and too big on his seemingly frail body. he was drenched from the rain, the mud that had been caked onto him softening as shivers wracked his body. the bags under his eyes were heavy and dark, and you’d noticed that he was bleeding… and badly.

you remember the way his ears perked up, his gaze sharpening as he regarded you with a mixture of apathy and contempt; the way his pupils had narrowed into slits and his tail swished in warning. he’d attacked you that night, the wound on your hip later scarring. the levi from that night was so similar, yet so different from the man in front of you.

you were frozen in place, your eyes darting between levi and the corpse he had haphazardly discarded onto your living room floor. his face was marred with blood, a subtle look in his eyes that screamed pride. it didn’t feel real — there was no way this was happening. not to you of all people.

“what the fuck—“ you gesture to the body, your eyes filling with tears. “— is this?

“what’s wrong? don’t you like it?” levi asks, his expression morphing into concern the moment he recognized your appall.

was he serious?

“levi, you killed someone and brought them back to my apartment!” you exclaim, feeling bile rise in the back of your throat as you tear your gaze away from the corpse. “my home has become a fucking crime scene!”

levi’s brows furrow, his ears flattening at your words. seeing him clench his fist, you instinctively take a step back — a feeble attempt to put distance between the two of you. he doesn’t like that.

levi knows he’d be able to catch you if you decided to run, but he wanted you to stay — willingly. he didn’t want to have to force you, knowing that would only put a strain on your relationship. sure, he was biologically much faster than the average human, but he didn’t want to have to resort to using his anatomy to his advantage again.

he doesn’t regret killing any of them — especially not this one. this man was weaker than all of the others, obviously incapable of taking care of you properly. how was that human boy supposed to provide for you? protect you?

“that just shows im better for you, doesn’t it? if they can be taken out so easily, they couldn’t protect you. not like i can.” levi hisses, his features tightening with frustration. “i did you a favor. they would’ve gotten you hurt.”

his tone takes on a more desperate edge as he scrambles to justify his actions, his hand latching onto your shirt in an attempt to keep you in place.

“why are you looking at me like that…? like i’m some kind of monster? i’m not — i did this for you! for us!” levi shouts.

you can’t bring yourself to say anything, your mind spinning as you try to wrap your head around everything. levi had never been like this before; he’d always been distant and put-together, keeping you at an arm's length no matter how hard you tried to grow closer with him.

“say something… please.” the man begs, his arms snaking around your waist as he buries his face in the curve of your throat. levi takes a shaky inhale, your scent doing little to calm his racing heart. usually, it worked like a charm, but the cortisol radiating off of you worried him.

“let go of me, levi.” you mumble, your shaking fingers pushing at his shoulders. he only sniffles in response, his tail curling around your thigh.

“please — please don’t push me away.” levi pleads, his voice cracking. “i—i need you! i’ll die without you! please don’t do this to me…!”

“get out.”

levi’s hold on you tightens, his touch slowly becoming painful. despite your squirming and growing fear, levi only pulls you closer, peppering kisses along your throat and shoulders, mumbling apologies and promising to never do it again. yet, despite the ache in your chest, you stand firm in your decision.

“leave.”

levi’s body goes rigid, his fingers gripping your waist harshly as his voice grows quiet. “we can do this the hard way or the easy way — your choice... but, you’re staying with me whether you want to or not.”

levi takes your silence as an agreement, lapping at and kissing the focal points of your pheromones to mask your scent with his own. “‘m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine.” he breathes, a quiet groan leaving his lips.

his movements become more frantic, nipping at your skin in between planting open mouthed kisses against any visible flesh. “i’ll fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name — until the only scent on you is mine.”

255 notes · View notes

tinietaehyun · 6 months ago

Text

Whims of the Wicked

[Cheshirecat!Taehyun x Lost!Reader] [Wondrous Tales] [One-shot] [Series]

Pairing: Cheshirecat!Taehyun x Lost!Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy, dark fantasy, supernatural, dark romance, action, thriller, Alice in Wonderland inspired.

Contains: Profanity, mention of hallucination, spores, delusions, existential dread, asphyxiation, gaslighting, manipulation, obsessive behaviour.

Links: Wondrous Tales Masterlist || Masterlist

Note: Thank you all so much for the wonderful support on this one-shot series, I’m so glad you enjoyed them all! I hope you enjoy the last instalment of these one-shots!

Summary: You break the loop and take the Hatter off guard by your boldness, managing to somehow bypass his riddles and games. With all your remaining strength, you run deliriously, where? You don’t know.

All you know is the thousands of signs reading and pointing to an “exit” were taunting you. You couldn’t believe them. Not anymore, you couldn’t believe anyone, or anything in this world. You were not stupid enough to follow those damn signs and so, you go the opposite path. Into the Dark Woods.

Finding yourself even more lost and the last of your sanity crumbling away, the pollen in the air making you feel hazy, you’re startled to hear a voice, “Well, well, well, what a pretty thing has stepped into my woods today. Has no one told you I don’t like trespassers, hm?” Your eyes snap up to a man lounging in the branches above with a wide grin, “Don’t look so scared, I don’t bite too hard.”

Arrows. Lots of them. Bewildered, you continue walking seeing the hundreds of decaying wooden sign posts with crooked arrows pointing down a path. Exit signs supposedly.

However, after your delightful time in Wonderland so far, you knew those arrows were far from the exit, and far from pleasant. In fact they’d probably lead you even deeper into this hellhole and make you lose your sanity entirely. You certainly were on the precipice of losing it for sure.

Thus, you find your feet sharply walking in the opposite path. The path twisting and winding toward the Dark Woods, the home of the infamous Cheshire Cat. Well, infamous to everyone here, not you, you didn’t know him at all. Though, through your time here, you’d heard more about the Red King of Hearts more than him.

Perhaps that wasn’t exactly a good thing. It makes you anxious in fact, knowing so little. The Hatter and the King, you were anticipating but this…whoever this was, you had absolutely no idea. Your eyes drift to the murky, misty and dark woods up ahead. Living in a place, so dark, decrepit…such a stark contrast to the vibrant and colourful landscape of Wonderland - it makes you think, truly what would this individual be capable of?

Could you make it past him too, in a twist of fate, like you did the Hatter? You don’t know. Just something deep inside your gut, instinct, you could call it, made you feel borderline nauseous. What monster lurked in those woods. The crooked and jagged silhouette of the trees was already enough to spook you.

The path gradually grows crunchier, less neatly trimmed and pretty morphing into dark dirt, with decaying leaves and dark green and black foliage. Oh…how pleasant indeed. It almost looked like the real world (whether that was a good thing or not, was debatable!)

The trees seem to loom over you as you approach closer and chill runs up your spine making your hairs stand on end. The energy here was ominous, making you alert, even the slightest crunch in your footsteps seem to startle you. Every noise, every breath of yours seemed to be just a little louder than normal.

No birds chirping, no scurrying squirrels, not a single glimpse of a deer or even the buzz of a bee. Nothing. Just the trees and decaying leaf litter below your feet which seemed to sound like you were stepping on bones rather than just leaves, but you didn’t want to think too much into it. How on earth did that one escapee get here and make it out?

This place…it was just so different. So isolated, so secluded away from everything, almost like its own pocket dimension or liminal space unaffected by the insanity inducing tendrils of Wonderland. In fact…as odd as it was, whilst yes, you were shaking in your boots, so to speak, you were also relatively…calm.

Almost as if your fractured psyche was not so fractured, or well almost on a time-out of sorts. Your sanity was almost…suspended. An eerie anxiety inducing calmness within you - the calm before the storm perhaps?

You hated this feeling but simultaneously it was a welcome reprieve from your brain getting turned to utter mush and your perception of- well, everything becoming distorted.

You peer up at the sky, that sunset now moving far too fast for your liking (maybe the sun being stuck in one place was more beneficial for you than you had initially anticipated); the thought of being stuck wandering in here at night, not good. Not good at all. It was already dim, murky and misty enough.

Well fuck. You made it this far, that was certainly something right? Your heart pounds against your chest and shaky breaths leave your quivering lips. Was it just you or did it get rather cold?

No, no it wasn’t, you could see your breaths smoke and swirl in the air as you released them. Okay, good to know you weren’t quite insane just yet. It actually had gotten colder.

You find yourself walking a little faster. You yelp feeling a cold caress on the back of your neck. Was that merely the breeze? Oh fuck. You snap your head to the left - you heard a rustle there. To the right - a snap of a twig. With ragged breaths, you speed up your pace.

‘Run, run, run, pretty thing.’ A whisper crawls up your ear canal and you scream.

The world around you morphs and the trees seem to wane and grow, the spiky, crooked arms seeming to reach out towards you. Were those eyes or just the swirl of the bark? Is that a mouth or just a hole in the tree? Why did the ground feel so unstable?

With closer inspection, why did this air seem to have minuscule specs of white pollen suspended in the air. Had you been breathing all this in? Why wasn’t it there before? Your head pounds in disorientation. Every direction, every tree looked the same.

You grimace, clutching your head and crouching attempting to pitifully ground yourself, “Ah…shit, my head…” Scratch everything you had said before. This place was not relaxing by any means! You couldn’t even think straight anymore.

‘Confused?’ A whisper to your left taunts. ‘Dizzy?’ Another whisper behind you sneers. You frantically peer around only to see nothing. Your heart erratically palpitates in your ribcage, your mind attempts to make sense of the situation.

Taunting whispers, snickers, the rustle of bushes and phantom footsteps. You were going insane! You let out a yell of frustration, piercing through the forest.

A tsking mock resounds behind you making you spin around. You probably looked quite like a lunatic flailing around so pathetically. ‘Tsk, tsk, I didn’t think our newest guest was such a scaredy cat.’

You shakily yell, “Where are you? W-Who are you?” You knew who it was but had to confirm it. It had to be the Cheshire Cat! You hadn’t even seen him yet and here he was toying with you as if you were ball of yarn akin to a cat’s paws!

A malevolent giggle resounds out making a shiver travel down your spine. ‘Mm-mm, now that’s more like it! What a lovely little voice you have…’

A cold breeze brushes against your cheek and neck making you shiver. ‘So pretty too, what a shame; the others didn’t even bother to tell me there was a new guest? Then again, most never make it this far. So…that must make you even more special, hm?’

You snap, your senses becoming more and more delirious, “Show yourself!” A low chuckle reverberates as the mysterious voice muses, ‘Are you sure you want that? Don’t you think it’s safer for you if I remain hidden? But oh well, since you insist. Who am I to deny such a pretty thing, their wish?’ Oh hell no! You should’ve kept your mouth shut!

You begin sprinting, weaving your way through the brambles and foliage, feeling the branches tug at your clothes, scrape against your skin. You had to get out of here, escape these taunting voices, icy touches.

Everything seems to converge, everything looked the same, waning shadows, smiling trees, the darkening sky. It felt as though you were spiralling into an abyss of confusion and deliriousness.

Finding yourself even more lost and the last of your sanity crumbling away, the pollen in the air making you feel hazy, you’re startled to hear the voice again, “Well, well, well, what a pretty thing has stepped into my woods today. Has no one told you I don’t like trespassers, hm?” Your eyes snap up to a man lounging in the branches above with a wide grin, “Don’t look so scared, I don’t bite too hard.”

The air escapes your lungs for a moment as you process the sight. His ebony locks fall haphazardly across his forehead, a few strands over his eyes. Those eyes. Eyes which held forbidden knowledge, secrets, desires, twisted dreams and thoughts. Murky orbs which seem to glimmer with a twinge of curiosity, malice and desire? His gaze pierces into you from his position up in the tree, lounging with his limbs weightless as though he were a big cat. A pointed nose and lush rosy lips, stretched out into a wide smile, a little too wide.

Breathless, you utter shakily, stepping back, “The…Cheshire Cat…” His eyes glimmer and brows furrow as he tilts his head ever so slowly, as though observing every little movement of yours with precision, like a feline zoned in on its pitiful prey.

He laughs sitting up, “Oh…have the others told you about me? I’m flattered, usually they ignore my existence altogether.” Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong, none of the others had mentioned him, well outrightly you suppose, or at all. Only the Blue Caterpillar had.

Your heart races, adrenaline pumping through your vessels. Was he the cause of the voices…he had to be! Your gaze flits up again and you almost jump seeing him staring at you with such intensity. You notice his sharp black nails digging into the bark of the tree.

His grin widens impossibly so; you shake your head. Was your vision going bad? Were you hallucinating- you swore you just saw rows of teeth, his lips stretched impossibly wide. How horrifying. You peer at him again to see his resting smile again, accompanied with a mischievous gaze.

“Oh? Sweet thing, you look terrified. See something you didn’t like?” He coos swinging his legs off the branch. Your heart leaps to your throat, he was going to jump down.

Instinctively, you take a step back and another. However, as fate would have it, your foot catches on a tree root and you topple backwards with a shriek. You swear that root wasn’t there earlier!

The Cheshire Cat lets out a breathy laugh before leaping down with the utmost grace, knees bearing the brunt of the force of the jump down. His hands on the dark leaf litter brace the impact, not a single sound. As quiet as a cat… he tilts his head with a menacing smile, not showing quite so many teeth this time.

He was simultaneously alluring yet terrifying creating a whirlwind of conflict within your body. You could tell. He was different. Much different. Another entity entirely from the others here. There was a whole other aura surrounding him, making you feel nauseous but you also didn’t want to leave. Wait- why didn’t you want to leave?

The Cheshire Cat murmurs, one hand moving in front of the other as he almost crawls, no-stalks towards you, “So much fear, yet so little noise. Usually, my trespassers make so much noise from their screaming; it really does hurt my sensitive ears. I hear everything, you know. For example…”

In a flash of a second, you let out a shrill yelp as he’s suddenly in front of you crouching over your outstretched legs, placing a hand over his heart with a dark gaze, “…your heart. Pretty thing, it’s beating so fast. Are you scared of me?”

Close up, he’s even more infuriatingly mesmerising, a constant smirk on his lips, eyes that held depths that you couldn’t comprehend. His skin almost glistens alluringly under the dimming sky.

He shifts closer; your eyes widening and breath hitching as he outstretches his hand cupping your jaw, not too tightly but firm enough, and pushes upward closing your lips. You have to refrain from disintegrating on the spot- how embarrassing! Your mouth was hanging open!

With a sly grin, he leans down not letting go, “Having those pretty lips parted in shock, have we? Am I that terrifying to look at or…can you not get enough of me? Which one is it?” Even his tone of voice was enough to bewitch any man or woman. Slightly elongated words, a coy edge to his voice, complete with a touch of condescending and seductive tones.

You feel his nail press into the skin of your cheek and he groans, “Oh, you’re so soft. If I press just a little harder…” you whimper as he does so, “I’d have you painted in streams of red.” A delighted laugh escapes his lips making you shudder. “…Yes, yes, oh you’d look so pretty in red.” The Cheshire Cat gazes down at your fearful eyes and muses with an almost patronising coo, “Oh don’t worry sweet thing, I’m not that cruel. I don’t get visitors often, if at all, and well, you’re a sight for sore eyes, so I won’t rip you to shreds and leave you hanging on a branch to rot.”

You grimace visibly at such a revolting thought. He releases his grip and seems to rake his gaze over you with a widening grin, “I’m the Cheshire Cat indeed, but you, you sweet thing, can call me just, Taehyun. Got that?” You say nothing, still reeling in from everything.

His expression falls off his face and he snaps darkly, “I said. Got that?” You stammer, “Y-Yes-“ “Yes, what?” He purrs. You shakily reply, “Uhm…yes, Taehyun?”

An amused laugh almost mocking escapes Taehyun’s lips, “Oh, you humans are always so easy to control. A little fear… a little raising my voice and it gets you to do whatever I ask. How endearing…”

Taehyun reaches out, taking a strand of your hair, wrapping it around his index finger in a nonchalant manner as you’re sat bruised and scraped up, frozen in fear. “You’re rather delicate aren’t you? How did a thing like you make it out this far? Yeonjun would have eaten someone like you right up. Even so, you made it past him. Impressive. Even more so, is fleeing the Hatter. Oh poor Beomgyu. I’m sure you know his pitiful plight? Oh yes, you even managed to get the White Rabbit’s head chopped didn’t you? Oh dear…quite the mess, hm?”

Your eyes widen, he knew everyone. Knew all their mannerisms, situations. He sighs observing the soft strands around his finger, “The sky’s actually darkening. Perhaps I’ll see night for the first time in a long, long time. That’s because you broke the loop right? Quite the feat.” His gaze snaps back up to yours startling you, “Aren’t you just something, oh so, special?”

You murmur tentatively as he lets go of the strand, “How- how did you-“ Taehyun cuts you off with manic glee in his eyes, “How did I know all that?” You nod slowly, shaky breaths leaving you.

“Oh sweet thing…” he leans in incredibly close, breath fanning your face, his murky irises entrancing yours as he slyly grins, “I know everything that I need to know. Even about you..”

You? About you? What? You flinch back, “About m-me? What…that’s impossible- I’m not from here.”He lets out a chuckle, “You’re not. You’re from the other world. The real world, as you call it, no? The boring monotony of humanity lies out there.”

Taehyun’s hand tilts your chin up, his lips inches from yours as he whispers tauntingly. The same as the voices from before. “…that boring old job you have. Typing away. So much dismal paperwork. The same boring routine. Coming home and lounging around, turning that white cat lamp on. Aren’t you glad you set foot here? So much more fun.”

You shake your head frantically, “No, no- absolutely not! This was the worst experience of my life,” your voice cracks, “I feel-I feel like I’m slowly going insane! I can’t stay here any longer otherwise-“ you pause. Wait. White cat lamp? How the fuck did he know that?

You stammer delirious, “How did you-?” Taehyun grins, finishing off for you, “Know that?” Your blood runs cold. He coos, “As I said before, I know, everything. The moment you set foot into this place, you let me into your mind. Let me into your fragile little psyche.” Mockingly, his taps his index against your forehead.

“This little place here, who knows? How do you know if any of this is real? What if it’s just a lucid dream, a fever dream? Oh, did you take any drugs before this?” You shake your head, eyes glazing over as a disgusting sensation of existential dread fills you. “What if you’re just hallucinating? Seeing me?”

All of a sudden he disappears. You peer around in panic. You snarl teary-eyed, “Hey! Hey Taehyun! Get back here! You can’t just-“ He left. An eerie silence permeates the air and you tremble. No. No it couldn’t be. He was just toying with you. Right?

‘Am I?’ His voice rings in your mind. You shriek, “What the fuck?” Did you hear him behind you?

‘Look to the left of you, pretty thing.’

You slowly crane your head to your left and see him standing there with a twisted smile. He blows into your ear, and you grimace scooting back, “Don’t do that!” You splutter out.

Taehyun muses, “Oh? Did you miss me too much in the seconds I was gone?” You snap, “No! I didn’t mean-“ He murmurs, “Well, lucky for you I don’t care what you meant.”

What a piece of-

All of a sudden his index finger presses against your lips and a sly grin appears on his face, “Now, now, let’s not insult me. I don’t like being insulted, Y/n.” Fuck. Even knew your name!

The Cheshire Cat could read your mind. He really did mean that he knew everything. Taehyun really did mean that you let him into your mind!

A breathy laugh escapes his lips, “My, my, having a mental crisis?” He leans down with a dark gaze, “Don’t worry, I won’t pry into your filthiest crevices full of your precious secrets,” he pouts, “I’m not that cruel, you see. Everyone’s entitled to privacy of course, well, that and I’m not feeling that curious. Yet.”

Taehyun sits back leaning back onto his palms with a coy smile, “Ah, I’m beginning to get rather bored now. Should we play a game?” You shake your head frantically with your hands clasped together. “No, no, please. No more games…I can’t handle anymore. I beg.” You couldn’t take it.

Taehyun pouts with a condescending tone, “Aw, is Wonderland’s newest guest tired of playing already? The others must have done quite the number on you then, if you’re so reluctant. But that’s not fair on me, is it? You’ve played with them. Why not me?”

Because you knew this time, you wouldn’t be able to win. This entire place. He could manipulate it with ease, no matter where you ran, his voice would taunt you, distract you, make you spiral into madness.

A devious laugh emits from him, “Mm…quite the pessimist aren’t you, thinking like that. Not even going to try? I was thinking, Hide and Seek. Maybe Tag?” You shake your head, with trembling hands, “I don’t have the physical or mental strength right now for anything, please.”

Taehyun muses running a hand through his raven locks, “You sound so pretty when you beg and plead. Almost enough to make me consider your wishes.” Almost?

The tall man stands stretching his arms with a yawn. He towers over you with a menacing smile, “Yes almost. I like you.”

You peer up at him blankly startled by the random set of words. He resumes, “I like you a lot. So here’s what we’re going to do. As punishment, for trespassing in my woods, you’re going to play one round of tag with me. Think you can manage that?”

Pathetically, you splutter, “That’s not fair! You have so much advantage in this place- I’ll lose!” He lets out a giggle, “Ah, ah, ah, I never said if you lost that it’d be a bad thing. I just want to play. See you in action, after all, you slipped past the others.”

So…just for fun? For his sick amusement?

Taehyun leans down grinning, “Yes. Precisely, sweet thing. For my sick amusement. I want to see your pretty face scrunched up in fear, your delicate limbs deliciously tremble from the very thought of me hunting you down. And after I find you…” a malicious little laugh resounds from his mouth, “Well, anything really. Maybe I’ll comfort you. Maybe I’ll tie you up with some vines, leave you hanging upside down for a while. Perhaps…I can even offer you something that we’d both like,” a seductive twinkle appears in his eyes.

He had just said if you lost it wouldn’t be a bad thing! So what on earth were these options?

“Not a bad thing for me, sweet thing. A bad thing for you, perhaps. Don’t worry, I’ll try not to…maim you in the process. Let me apologise in advance,” he glances down at his nails, sharp enough to pierce skin, “My… nails can be a little…sharp, let’s say. But don’t worry, dying isn’t an option for you. Although, maybe you’ll wish to die, most people do, anyway.”

Your eyes widen mortified as his jaw moves with a sickening crack, rows of teeth appearing as his lips widen horrifyingly. His voice rasps out, “I’ll be a gentleman and allow you a ten second head start. Ten, nine…”

With that, you stand and bolt off in whatever direction. It was pointless, he’d win, you both knew that. It was just a sadistic game to him. However, instinct cried out to you to keep running. After all, you were the prey and he was the hunter.

‘…Three, two, one, here I come…’ his voice taunts you.

Panting, you run as fast as you can, weaving through the trees, jumping over the roots, ducking under branches. The waning shadows and crooked branches seem like they’re reaching out for you, looming ominously watching your every move. It was useless to run, he’d catch you. So why were you doing it? Indulging him? Because you were scared.

Perhaps you could prolong your inevitable fate just that little bit longer. You hiss in pain as a branch tears into your arm as you sprint past. This damn forest!

The caterpillar had said that the way out was here, Taehyun had to know the way out. There was clearly nothing he didn’t know. Would you be doomed to be his toy for his sadistic whims forever?

A menacing chuckle emits from your left side and then your right. ‘I can see you…don’t you look adorable running?’

You attempt to drone out his voice. Run. Just keep running. You couldn’t make it too easy for him after all. The forest seems to spin deliriously around you, your sense of direction lost to the wind.

Your lungs burn, muscles twitching and aching immensely as your stamina depletes rapidly. You weren’t exactly the most fit person- but having it bite you back now, was just dreadful. Maybe you should have paid a little more attention in Physical Education.

‘Slowing down? Don’t tell me you can’t run anymore.’ Taehyun snickers in your head.

You released ragged breaths leaning back against a tree. If you ran anymore, you were sure you would pass out. Tears brim in your eyes and your limbs tingle with pain at the sheer exertion. You close your eyes leaning your head back, lips parted for breath.

What a useless chase…worthless. For a moment, all is silent. You know he’s probably right behind you, prowling around somewhere. Oh well… some twisted part of you thinks, perhaps if you played along, he’d get bored and put you out of your misery.

What the hell? What were you thinking? Had you given up hope so quickly? Your heartbeat eases with your breathing. How has Taehyun not found you yet? Was he just waiting for you to open your eyes?

All of a sudden you hear a breathless laugh. He was here. Your body stiffens and you keep your eyes clamped shut. His voice purrs out, “Found you.”

Yeah, yeah. Of course, how surprising.

Another laugh emits from him, “Don’t think that way. It was rather fun, no? I made it easy for you; didn’t even manipulate the environment. You should be on your knees, thanking me, that I don’t have you hanging by your ankle right now.”

A scoff escapes your lips, “Seriously?” You slowly pry your eyelids open only to see nothing. You peer around the tree—both sides. Nothing at all?

What? Where was Taehyun?

“Tch, tch, tch,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, “Oh you guests always seem to forget to look up.” Your head instantaneously snaps up and you see him lounging in the tree that you were just leaning against. Holy shit! How long was he there for!?

“Since you decided to quit running, sweet thing,” he grins. His hand trails down the bark, nails digging into it, as he gives you a seductive smile, “I really, really like you, you know. You aren’t like the others. Most would have used this chance to try and pitifully escape or run back out of the woods back into Wonderland. But you…”

Taehyun slowly cranes his head, his smile widening into his terrifying grin and wide eyes, “…you didn’t run away, attempt to find your way out. You actually indulged me. You stayed put.” You remain silent.

It didn’t even register in your mind that you could run out of the woods, even if you couldn’t escape Wonderland, you could at least escape the woods and his grasp. So why…?

A giggle escapes his lips, “Perhaps I underestimated you. Maybe you’ve already lost your mind. Mm…or maybe you’re a little twisted, nothing wrong with that,” he begins clambering down, “Nothing wrong with enjoying a little pain, a little hunt—enjoying your sanity shattering.”

Within milliseconds, Taehyun stands right in front of you making you shriek as he grabs you by the throat, twisting you around and slamming you against the bark of the tree, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

A chuckle—half malice, half amusement emits from his lips as he peers down at you. Your lips part, eyes widening egregiously, his fingers squeezing a little tighter around your neck. Stammering, you say, “I-I-I don’t get it- what- why-“

“Because it’s fun,” he muses nonchalantly. “Have I mentioned how lovely your neck feels in my hand?”This sadistic piece of shit! He squeezes harder with a darker gaze, “Ah, ah, such a crude insult, insulting me like that, pretty thing? What have I said?”

Your gaze meets his, his face inches from yours. Your heart palpitates recklessly; shaky and strained breaths leave your lips. Such a piercing gaze, almost as if he were searching through your very soul. Your eyes flit over his face in partial wonder, how could someone so pretty be so deranged?

“It is quite the conundrum, hm?” Damn him and his unlimited access to your psyche!

A mocking hum leaves him as he tilts his head closer, “So you think I’m pretty, hm? My, you have quite the twisted taste. Most are terrified. Is it my smile?” His grip loosens on your neck momentarily allowing your shoulders to slouch in relief.

“Your smile…uh- I don’t think-“ you carefully structure your next words, “…it’s uhm, unique. Special.” He snickers, “Is it now? How cute. Nice white lie.” Taehyun seems to smile down at you, not a terrifying one, but ordinary. A smile carrying amusement, a touch of condescension.

Taehyun leans in even closer, “Mm…I’ve caught you. What should I do with you?”

Briefly, your eyes flit to his rosy lush lips as he speaks the words coyly. Focus. What was wrong with you?

“It’s okay,” he breathes out. “It's not like I haven't had fun with my guests before. In fact, looking at you…” his eyes take in your face and move downward, “I’d say it’d be an excellent use of time, driving you insane with my caress, having you see stars, spasm and come undone with my mouth and touch.” Would you like that? After all…you rather suck at tag. Maybe you’ll be better at this.”

You were sure if it weren’t for this abhorrent place, he’d make a great siren with how seductive he could get. Your knees feel weak and you close your eyes. No…no, he was stopping you from your one and only goal.

The Cheshire Cat was the only being in Wonderland who had such knowledge. Knowledge of the outside world. He had to know the exit. How to leave. Focus Y/n!

Taehyun’s low voice purrs out, “The exit…huh?” A smile coveting pleasure and secrets plasters on his lips. You whisper, quivering from his proximity, “Yes,” you inhale, “…the exit. I want to return to the real world,” your voice cracks, “Please.”

Taehyun’s hand grips your jaw as he coos, shaking your head slightly, “Aw, how adorable. Asking so nicely.” It takes all your strength not to lose your patience at his taunting and condescension. “Mm, so that’s why you’ve chosen to come to my woods and didn’t follow the hundreds of conveniently placed exit arrows and decided to risk everything by trespassing here, hm?” He muses.

“Why? Don’t believe those arrows?” Taehyun grins. You scoff softly, “As if it would be that easy.” He hums, “Mm, sometimes it really is you know. This place is just unpredictable. But in this case, you were right, those arrows lead to a lovely little hole, just waiting for an unsuspecting guest to waltz in and fall to their eternal descent.” Your heart drops, surely not? He was joking right?

‘Oh I’m not, sweet thing, believe me, it’s quite the place. Consider it the junk yard of Wonderland.’ His voice rings out in your mind.

Confusion batters your mind. You came into these woods only to get even more lost. Now that you were in his grasp, was it even possible to leave these woods and flee?

Taehyun’s grin widens, “I wondered when you’d realize that the exit isn’t so easy to find. You’re lost, aren’t you? So lost that you don’t even know which way to go anymore,” a malicious laugh escapes him.

You cry out fisting the fabric of his shirt in desperation, your mind couldn’t take this any further, “Please, Taehyun, please. I’ve had enough, you’re the only one in this place who knows the exit, knows of the real world. Surely you’ll indulge me? You’ve already let one person out of here right?”

He purrs, “Well, yes Alice was rather special, just like you actually. That’s why I adore you so much- just as witty, just as smart, if not more so, and very pretty,” he sighs frowning, “Oh, but she is now very old, quite elderly, truly a sad fact about the real world. You truly wish to return to the land of feeble mortality?”

You nod fervently, pleading, “Yes, yes I do! Just please show me how to leave!” Taehyun cocks his head, seeming to almost consider the request. A dramatic sigh leaves his lips, “Oh, how you guests are always the same, not even one person wishes to stay here.”

Goodness, who would? You just needed to leave no matter what, return to your meager and peaceful life!

Taehyun steps back but remains in front of you, ensuring you won’t just slip by. He says, “Oh, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re too eager to leave.” You stiffen, brows furrowing befuddled.

He resumes with a huff, “You’re so focused on escaping that you’ve stopped seeing what’s right in front of you. The exit isn’t some place that you can just walk into,” he spreads his arms wide as if to emphasise his point.

The fuck? You feel as though your head is going to implode. You didn’t need more riddles or philosophy! Impatiently, you snap, “I don’t care about your riddles! I just need to get out.”

He flicks his hand dismissively; his lips twitching to form another grin, “Oh, but you see, you’ve already found the way out. By engaging with me.” What? What on earth was he spouting?

Blinking, you go to speak but he cuts you off before you can even begin. “The exit is closer than you think. All you have to do is step through,” he gestures to the left of him with a sweep of his arm.

Your eyes widen in shock. Through the mist and amongst the dark trees just up ahead, you see a white glowing doorway bathed in a soft, inviting light. Exhaustion seems to weigh heavy on your limbs and you stare at it in sheer disbelief.

It seems so simple. Too simple.

You snap your head back to him and deadpan, “That’s it? So…that’s the exit?” Your tone is filled with uncertainty but you were genuinely drawn toward the door.

The Cheshire Cat answers, “Yes.” His voice drips with mischief, “It’s right there. All you have to do is go through. No more games. No more riddles. It’s your choice. The door is waiting.”

Your desire to leave Wonderland is overwhelming despite the odd tension in the air. You find your feet seemingly twist and begin stepping slowly toward the door, each step heavier than the next. You are entranced by the ethereal light it emits.

As you reach the threshold of the door, you outstretch your arm, and it seems to faze through the blank space, the space is comforting, like a hug, a warm blanket even. Your fingers wriggle on the other side, a soft breeze brushes past your fingers tempting you further. This…was your escape. Right? Why were you so inexplicably drawn to this door?

You move even closer, the light illuminating your features. Interrupting your moment of tranquility and bliss, Taehyun calls out, “Wait... don’t you want to know what’s on the other side?”

Immediately, you stop in your tracks turning back to him. Wait- what the fuck has gotten into you? Were you just about to carelessly walk into that doorway? Believing the Cheshire Cat of all people?

You stammer, shaking your head to clear your head, “What do you mean? Isn’t the exit the real world? Isn’t that where I’ll be free?” A shudder runs through you as you see Taehyun’s eyes flash with something darker now.

“You think the real world is your escape, do you? Ah, how naive. You see, the problem is that you don’t know what’s real anymore. What if this doorway is just another illusion? A trick, just like everything else in Wonderland?” He utters, voice devoid of any humour or mischief.

His words hang dangerously in the air and you feel your eyes water, you were so desperate. “But I’m so close. I need to leave,” you beg brokenly.

Taehyun raises his hand, with a flick of his wrist, the world around you warps and bends. The trees twist and wane unnaturally, the dark colours begin bleeding together and the mist thickens.

“And yet, here we are, standing at the threshold of the unknown. Tell me, pretty thing—how do you know that’s the right door? How do you know the world you’re so desperate to return to is any better than this one?”

You recoil at his words, any semblance of confidence, or resolute goal you had was in tatters. The forest around you seems to shimmer and shift - the world itself seeming unstable. Was it the world, or was it you? You couldn’t tell anymore.

As you stand frozen, drowning in your whirling doubts, you see Taehyun’s serious expression morph into a wide and sly grin. With a snap of his fingers, another doorway appears beside the first.

However, this one it’s darker, more ominous— glowing with an eerie, crimson light.

“Here’s another exit,” Taehyun gestures to it, “This one leads to another reality. Perhaps the world you’re so desperate to escape isn’t the ‘real’ one after all. What if there’s another reality waiting for you? One where you can have everything you desire. This one is a much safer choice, isn’t it?”

You peer back and forth between the two doors. Overwhelmed, you ask, “But which one is the real exit?”

“How do you know?” He questions, voice barely above a whisper as grins wider. “How do you know what’s real? Every path, every exit in Wonderland feels real. The problem isn’t about choosing. The problem is that you can never be sure. You think you can escape, but you can’t even trust the world around you.”

You clutch your head, shutting your eyes. Your mind is frazzled, your heartbeat seems louder. You were definitely going insane or had you died and ended up in some sickening version of hell? You simultaneously felt like you wanted to scream and weep. Why was everything so difficult? Why didn’t you know what to do anymore?

You stand almost paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong choice, the wrong decision. You were torn between the two doors. The longer you seem to regard the two doors, the more they seem to shift and blur, as if neither one is truly stable.

The leaf and twigs crunch and snap under Taehyun’s feet as he walks towards you, “You cannot trust me, you cannot trust anything in this place. But you can trust yourself. Can’t you?” His voice is mocking, twisted but serious.

“The only thing that is real is you and your choice to move. Because, in the end, the only thing that makes a door an exit is your decision to walk through it,” he finishes off coming to stand beside you.

For a long moment, you both stand in silence. Taehyun stares at you, his sharp eyes fixed on you, glimmering with intrigue, a sadistic delight, curiosity even. You continue to gaze at the two doors, processing his words as they ring out over and over again.

The unmelted remainder of your brain chugs and whirrs pathetically as you once again go over his words. There had to be something, anything to bypass this endless torture of uncertainty. That’s when your brain clicks.

Your eyes widen; a shaky breath resounds from you, these two doors were a trap. These shifting illusions were never meant to guide you out of here. These were here to make a point.

The point being, is choosing to embrace the unknown. Not needing to know the answers. The answer was what was holding you back, keeping you trained to this exact spot in hopeless despair. You had to choose.

The Cheshire Cat chuckles, “My, my sweet thing, you look like a mighty epiphany has been had.” Indeed you did! Taking a deep breath, uncertainty swirls around you but you suddenly feel something shift in the air. You meet his gaze, something had shifted within him too. The way he’s looking at you almost…proudly.

Without a single word, you step toward the door that calls to you the most, that you resonate with. Not because you felt comfortable, no—you had no fucking clue what was on the other side of either door. But you were just going for it. Standing here in insanity inducing contemplation wasn’t worth it.

In other words: fuck it.

As you take the first step toward the door, the world around you begins to unravel. You peer over your shoulder as you hear loud laughter echo. There he was, laughing, throwing his head back, grin as wide as ever. Taehyun runs a hand through his black locks with a twistedly exhilarated expression.

Both of you lock eyes as he steps forward, taking your hands with a manic gaze and wide beaming grin, he brings them up to his lips, a kiss on the back of both hands— enough to make your heart flutter impossibly so.

“Ah, finally. You’ve learned the delightful truth, sweet thing. There is no certainty, no guarantee. There’s only choice, and the courage to take the first step,” he coos, thumb running over the back of your hand, “I have decided to consider your plea, your freedom. You’ve thoroughly impressed me.”

Taehyun leans down, “You’ve certainly entertained me, another person who I’ll never, ever forget.” His hand cups your cheek, before his thumb trails down to tug at your lower lip making your breath hitch.

“Oh how special you are…” he breathes. You look up at him in realisation. As insane, as sadistic and twisted as he was, he truly was the wisest in Wonderland. A being who surpassed comprehension, someone- or something, that no one in their right mind could ever figure out.

All you had to do was last his game- a game in which the very fabric of your mind and psyche would be stretched to their limits. Then, and only then when the Cheshire Cat was thoroughly pleased, would he grant your wish. Guide you to the exit you so desperately seek.

His lips are inches from your, tension between you taut, imposing, some filthy, dark twisted part of you wanted to tiptoe up and press your lips to his. Why? You don’t really know why.

An alluring smile appears on his visage, temptingly leaning down just a little further, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. His other hand grasps yours, intertwining your fingers with his as he squeezes.

Taehyun whispers, “Sweet thing, how you tempt me so, I almost want to snatch you up and keep you here forever,” you stiffen and he muses, “But…that would not be fair, I am not so cruel to keep you here after making you lose your mind.” His gaze flits down to your lips, “Mm, but perhaps you could soothe my aching heart…with a goodbye kiss?”

This truly did feel like a goodbye. Throwing any decorum, any ounce of sanity or dignity out the window, you tiptoe up pressing your lips to his. He tilts his head, lips parting welcoming yours with a pleasant hum. Oh how good it felt, you hated yet loved it. It made you feel sinful but how you so craved it, something about him just made you want to…give yourself entirely.

His lips move against yours deliciously, enticingly before parting with a satisfied smirk and he whispers alluringly, breath hitting your face, “Sweet thing, do you promise to never forget me?”

Forget him? God, he’d be the last person you’d forget. You’d be surprised if you didn’t see him in your dreams (or nightmares), after all this.

Taehyun tilts your head up slightly, “Hm?” You shake your head with a breathless laugh, as you step back prying his hands off you, “I promise I won’t. Definitely not for a while anyway.”

“Not for a while, huh? Oh, I think it’ll be a lot longer,” he muses, raising his hand into a wave. “Now get going, weren’t you so pitifully desperate to get back to that awfully boring place you call home?”

You hear a click of a door opening and you gasp seeing the door you chose open up. The familiar trees of the park, the skyline of buildings, the sky. Home! You step forward, stepping into the threshold and feel the Dark Woods fade behind them. The weight of doubt and indecision lift from your shoulders.

It was about deciding to move—trusting yourself enough to take a step without knowing for sure what lies ahead. The real world isn’t perfect either, and it may not be as certain or clear-cut as you once believed, but you’re free because you are no longer waiting for the ‘right’ door to appear.

With that, your vision becomes pure and vivid white, blinding you with its brightness as you feel almost weightless. Finally, your consciousness fails you as you seem to let your body fall into nothingness.

Soon, a gentle breeze brushes across your cheeks and hair. You feel something soft, something crunching under your head. The scent of grass, a touch of street food, (perhaps a hot dog, or was it pizza?), dust and traffic and vehicle horns resound out as your consciousness slowly comes back.

A buzzing and murmuring infiltrates your ears. It felt as though…there was someone talking. No- a lot of people actually. The murmur of a crowd. All around you.

With a final push, you pry your eyelids open and sit up with a large gasp. A few yelps and a cacophony of muttering, whispering and gasp resound from around you. You squint as the daylight burns your eyes and you raise your hand to block out the ray of sun.

‘What happened to them?’ ‘Is she okay?’ ‘Why were they just passed out on the grass like that?’ All questions that seem to hover around you adding to your confusion and disoriented state. It had seemed in this world only a matter of a few minutes had passed.

You just looked like you had fainted, passed out even. A twinge of embarrassment fills you for a moment. Then you peer down seeing the horrendous black and red envelope that you seemed to be clutching tightly with trembling hands.

With a piercing scream, you toss the envelope away startling the small crowd that’s seemed to form around you. The invite daintily flaps and dances around against the ground being strung by the strings of the wind. God forbid, you ever accidentally enter such a world again.

Never were you picking up random shit on the road after this.

The people around you whisper and murmur whilst you groan clutching your head. Oh you must look crazy right now…

Seems about right, no one has the damn courtesy to help you up! Your body feels heavy, exhausted and fatigued with limbs shaking.

With a painful grunt, you bring yourself to your knees and place your hands onto the floor to steady yourself before you get up. The last thing you wanted was to stand up only for your legs to give out on you.

As you go to stand, you spot a pair of sneakers walking toward you, and you crane your head up to see who is walking towards you. Huh? Purple laces?

You stiffen seeing the person’s hand outstretched. You feel the entire world shift on its axis as any remaining breath promptly leaves your body at the abysmal sight.

“Grab my hand, I’ll help you up. These inconsiderate losers can’t be bothered to help you up? Can they?” His voice muses quietly as he doesn’t wait for you to take his hand, in fact, he wraps his hand around yours and tugs you up. You stumble into him wide eyed and speechless.

The crowd begins to disperse rapidly as you’re standing up and you have to make sure you are still in the real world as you frantically look around.

How the fuck? Since when was this possible?

“Since now,” he finishes off for you clutching both your hands. You tilt your head up to meet his dark gaze, “After all, you promised you wouldn’t forget me, didn’t you?”

Fuck.

“I-I- how- but that doesn't explain- how are you here in the real world?” You splutter and stammer.

You feel a tap on your shoulder seeing an elderly woman, “Dear, are you okay? Seems like you must have taken quite the fall, and understandably so, you must be rather disoriented but,” the woman uncomfortably peers in front of you, “But… are you in the habit of talking to yourself, or is it just rambling?”

What? Yourself? But- you gaze back over seeing Taehyun gazing at the woman who just spoke to you. He grins widely, clutching your hands tighter. “Go on, don’t keep the nice lady waiting.”

Your blood runs icily cold. No way.

“So, I’m sorry to ask, I’m just so confused at the moment, did I get up myself?” You question timidly. The lady seems to fidget awkwardly, “Uhm, yes? Yes dear, you did. Quite surprising, you got up so smoothly, after such an event. Do you need any medical treatment? I know a clinic nearby-“

No you didn’t. Taehyun helped you up. You spin back around with a scream as you fist his shirt, “You followed me out here? She can’t see you? She can’t see you? Only I can? How the fuck is that possible?”

The woman seems frightened by your outburst and steps back, “Uhm- alright dear, I- I best be going, just rest for a bit-“ she seems to back away, rushing off.

A cackle escapes Taehyun’s lips as he covers his hands over yours, grin frighteningly wide as he towers over you, “How? How, you ask?” One hand raises and his index finger trails up the bridge of your nose and rests right in the middle of your forehead.

With a delightedly mischievous chuckle, he whispers, “Because of this,” his finger presses into your forehead. “This wonderful mind of yours. Now, you’ll always have someone to talk to, isn’t that lovely? You should be honoured, Alice has got the same present. Not to worry, I can be in two places at once, three, four. Everywhere. All at once.”

Taehyun cups your cheek once more with a twisted adoration, “So don’t worry, you won’t have to keep those wondrous memories of yours, just that, memories. We can keep them alive, even in this world. Isn’t that nice? Your life won’t be so boring anymore.”

As the words hang in the air, you fall to your knees and let the most soul shattering scream you’ve ever released in your existence.

Oh, did you really think you escaped? Did you really think that pesky little invite would be harmless?

No, no, that invite was the gateway to madness. There was no way you’d come out of that world with any sanity left intact.

After all, that would be preposterous wouldn’t it?

Taglist: [CLOSED]

@naoristerling @staaaarykids @tremendousphantommiracle @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @baekberrie @syraphyina @fullbodyblankets @soohashits @f4iryfever @themochiverse @atiny-chocolate-chip @nothingwithoutgyu @ethystclove @hancafe @nap-of-a-starr @isa942572 @evn-09 @ninitorih @m3chigo @tenleeluvr-blog @matcha-binz @soobunnymoa @sleepyygyu @nicngyu @vicurious28 @kurokkkiko0 @zyoopioo @noraimp @bvqler @lailols @iiisusy @astridxxxx @kookiesbunny @scrumptiousloser

185 notes · View notes

marsborne · 4 months ago

Text

Untold Weight - Pinocchio x f!Reader

After the events that happened at Arche Abbey, Pinocchio is left to think about all that has happened. The thoughts that run around in his head are not very pleasant.

Set after the Rise of P ending

- warnings: sad pino at the beginning - word count: 1.6k

AU where Antonia lives

It’s been a few days since Pinocchio returned from the Isle of Alchemists with Sophia, and ever since, unease seemed to settle over him like a shadow. He’d shared everything with you—every trial he faced, from his battles against countless enemies to his fight with Laxasia, and even his confrontation with Simon. His silver hair, gleaming softly in the moonlight, a sort of proof of setting Sophia free and her being with him until the very end. She was happy now, radiantly so, and yet…something lingered.

He told you about Geppetto. About the Nameless Puppet. About Carlo. About his own heart.

When he returned, it was you he sought out first.

He found you in the library of Hotel Krat. There were no words, only action. He wrapped you in an embrace so tight, so full of sorrow, it felt like he was holding onto you for dear life, afraid you might slip through his fingers just like his maker.

He didn’t know what to think. His father—his creator, the man he had idolized and obeyed without question, had spoken such hateful words. Yet, he had shed tears for him.

Tears for a monster of a man.

And still, those final words haunted him.

"I’m sorry, son."

They echoed in his mind, turning over and over like the mechanisms in his chest. The more he thought about them, the more he believed they weren’t meant for him at all, but for Carlo.

Everyone at the hotel noticed the shift in him. Some more than others. It was Antonia who noticed first.

She called for him one day. Life at the hotel had started to mend—rooms restored, halls repaired, the echoes of despair replaced by the tentative whispers of hope.

He sat on a stool by the piano in the library, his elbows resting on his knees, his silver hair falling like a curtain to hide his face. Across from him, Antonia sat in her wheelchair, her gaze warm with quiet understanding.

He told her everything.

Antonia, who had loved Geppetto and Carlo so dearly, found her heart twisting in ways she hadn’t expected. She had never imagined this of Geppetto, the man she once held in such high esteem. Carlo was gone, but her love for the boy remained steadfast. Yet, in the time she had come to know Pinocchio, her affection for him had grown just as strong. In many ways, she saw him as a son.

But there was another weight Pinocchio carried, one he couldn’t voice so easily.

He worried about what you might think of him now.

His father’s words had cut deep, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t silence them. He was just a puppet. Nothing more.

But oh, if only he could see himself through your eyes.

Antonia saw it too.

“Oh, dear child. That girl holds you so very dear—more than you probably know. Don’t think I didn’t notice how she looks at you, from the very first day you arrived here. I may have been ill, but I wasn’t blind,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Talk to her and see for yourself. She has a pure heart, and she loves you truly. She would never discard you, just because you’re not made of flesh and blood.”

Her words stayed with him, echoing in his mind, until finally, he found the courage to come to your door.

You had been worried sick. For days, he had barely spoken to anyone, least of all you.

When you opened the door, his gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet yours. You could see the weight he carried, feel it in the air between you. You knew what had happened—everyone did. You couldn’t claim to understand his pain. You didn’t, and you never would.

But you had resolved to be there for him, through it all.

He stood before you in his simple white shirt and dark pants, a picture of vulnerability. You stepped closer, your hands reaching up to cradle his freckled cheeks, gently lifting his face so you could meet his eyes.

His eyes shimmered—not with the polished quality of their craftsmanship, but with unshed tears.

“Pino, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

It was a silly question. You knew what was wrong.

He said nothing, only wrapped his arms around you. Carefully, always carefully with his Legion arm. He buried his face in your shoulder, silent tears soaking into your shirt.

Your heart ached. You held him close, your fingers threading through his silver hair, offering comfort in the only way you could. For a while, the room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of his mechanisms and the steady beat of his heart. Then, finally, you spoke.

“You are enough.”

He froze. For a moment, even his gears seemed to halt. Slowly, he pulled back, his face a mix of surprise and something else—something raw.

“…What?”

“You are enough, Pinocchio.”

And just like that, he broke.

He kissed you with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that felt like a plea and a promise all at once. His hands moved with a careful kind of desperation—one resting on your back, pulling you closer, as if he could fuse you together and never let go. The other found its way into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as though seeking solace in their softness.

It was not a kiss of hesitation or doubt—it was everything he couldn’t put into words. His fears, his sorrows, his love for you—all of it poured out in a torrent, raw and unrestrained.

For a moment, you were stunned, caught off guard by the sheer weight of his emotion. But then, like the tide rushing to meet the shore, you responded without hesitation.

Your hands found their place, one on his cheek and the other curling around his neck, pulling him even closer. The heat of the moment wrapped around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the outside world. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring every ounce of love, every whispered promise, and every silent vow into the connection between you.

His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, as though trying to memorize every detail of this moment. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you felt a soft, shaky sigh escape him. The hand in your hair tightened just a fraction, his thumb brushing against your temple in a touch so reverent it made your heart ache.

Your senses were overwhelmed by him—the faint metallic tang of his scent, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic ticking of his mechanisms mingling with the steady beat of his heart. It was a symphony of contrasts, both human and mechanic, and it was him.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn’t from a lack of desire but the need for air. His forehead pressed against yours, his silver hair falling between you like a shimmering curtain. His breaths came in soft, uneven gasps, mingling with yours in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You simply looked at each other, his glossy eyes searching yours as if trying to confirm that this was real, that you were here, and that you loved him as fiercely as he loved you.

And you did.

Without a word, your thumb brushed against his freckled cheek, a silent reassurance that you weren’t going anywhere. His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and in that instant, you knew. No matter the hardships you faced, no matter the doubts that plagued him, you would face them by his side.

---

An hour later, you lay together on your bed. Pinocchio rested his head on your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your torso. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat was his anchor, grounding him in a world that often felt too overwhelming.

Your fingers played idly with strands of his silver hair, curling them around your fingertips as you stared at the ceiling.

For Pinocchio, this moment felt like heaven.

The thought came to him suddenly, yet it rooted itself deeply.

He thought of Julian, the gentleman who had entrusted him with his wife’s most cherished possession. Their wedding ring. His words rang in his head.

"Please remember the love Melody and I shared. Who knows? Maybe you'll find true love one day, too."

He thought of Polendina and the love he so clearly felt for Antonia—a love so pure and steadfast it seemed to transcend everything.

And then, he thought of you.

He adored you. Completely and utterly.

“I want to marry you,” he said, breaking the silence.

Your fingers stilled. Your heart skipped a beat, and he felt it beneath his ear.

“I…what?”

“I want you to be my wife,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

Now he lifted his head, propping himself up on his arms. His silver hair framed his face, strands brushing your cheeks like a veil between you and the rest of the world. Your face burned crimson, and he chuckled softly, a flicker of mischief breaking through his seriousness.

“You’re not…proposing to me right now, are you?”

He faltered, guilt flashing across his face as he began to sit up. But before he could pull away, you grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead and tucking a few silver strands behind his ear.

“I’m not complaining,” you said with a soft smile. “And I want you to be my husband as well”

For a moment, he looked as though he might short circuit entirely.

Little did you know, the residents of Hotel Krat had already begun planning your wedding long before either of you realized you wanted one.

Heyy so school started and I'm not okay with that

Anyways I finished ng+ and immediately started ng+2 and my brain slapped me with this idea

I put my whole nervous system and brain power into that kissing scene I hope it's alright-

Also that ending was so random I felt the need to add that

#i love him sm ohmygodosjjshsbsjajajaisixjhx #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #x reader #fluff #lies of p fanfic #lies of p game #oneshot #female reader #slight angst #p x reader #headcanon #lies of p headcanon

140 notes · View notes

smallestapplin · 17 days ago

Note

I am resquesting headcanons for being Pharma’s newest obsession as his human pet. Maybe the obsession started after the reader comforts him when he’s sad despite being held captive by him.

*sigh* this is what I get for liking crazy

Warnings : mentions of dissection but nothing graphic, implied murder, Pharma himself is a warning, yandere

* You are such a cute curious little thing he found, ah yes he just had to keep you. So small, you fit perfectly in the center of his servo, so cute with the fear in your tiny optics it makes him want to dissect you, take you apart, study you! Dragging a sharp digit across your cheek, he can’t help but coo at how soft you are and how easily your energon spills, yet it’s red? Interesting!

* Scared, you do your best to just survive the crazed mech’s antics, trying to stay alert, trying to hide or find ways out of this place, but he’s always right there to catch you. It’s difficult to remain strong, to not tremble in his hold, but you can’t. You can only hope someone will find you before he’s done terrorizing you.

* So why on such a day does he look so tired, so worn, so beaten down? He pays you know mind, just taking a cube of high grade and downing it. His masking slipping in that moment, showing a pitiful mech broken to his core. You feel so bad for him, you shouldn’t he’s a monster you know what he’s done, what he will continue to do, and what he plans for the future, you should loathe him and leave him to cry in his sorrows.

* You want to punch yourself for finding a way to his desk, no matter how unsafe. He still hasn’t looked at you, down his second thing of high grade with ease. Pharma blinks as a small cube bonks against his forearm, and with it is you slightly out of breath pushing it towards him.

“It’s not good to drink on an empty stomach, or, well, fuel tank in your case.” You smile up at him, but step back not quite fond of the stare he is giving you.

His optics wide as he takes in your words, his processors spiraling. Such a tiny little thing you are and yet you carried a cube bigger than you to him, just to make sure he was okay? You squeak as he picks you up, his engine purring with a smirk cuddling on his face.

Perhaps you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

* You are an interesting little thing! His darling, his sweet, nothing can take you from him now. Pharma’s engine purrs deeply anytime he spots you, his engine growing louder the closer he gets to you. Always picking you up and cooing sweetly at you, it scares you how he flips between the most romantic poetry, to nuzzling his face against you speaking of melding your bones to his metal to be one.

* Long gone are the days he’s torment you, now it’s nothing but overwhelming affection and protection, ‘patients’ whom manage to escape and find you don’t often live long and he’s upset he loses control! Now there is hardly a thing for him to take. But even covered in energon he goes to you with worry on his face plate, checking you over for any injuries and making sure you’re okay.

* Showing him such an ounce of empathy has made him hunger for more, hunger for you, his tiny little human! Such an adorable little thing you are, always getting his wings fluttering. You are smothered in nuzzles, kisses, and carried anywhere and everywhere, he even human proofs his medbay so you can get around and be with him easier!

* Such softness compared to him, so squishy, he’s addicted. Anytime you move anywhere by yourself or tell him you can do ir yourself, he is there hovering behind you, almost uncomfortably close not giving you an ounce of space. He needs to be near you at all times, he can’t function properly without you, for you are his adoring light, his spark is yours to hold.

* if anything you could compare his actions to you like a sweet (overbearing) loving(unhinged) husband returning home from work when he greets you, at your side in a moments notice.

#yandere #tw.yandere #tw yandere #transformers pharma #transformers Pharma x reader #transformers yandere #transformers x reader #mdni #mdni blog

124 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 8 months ago

Text

getting sick of this noise, m | myg, jjk

misfit toys au continuation of intro >> don’t play >> this game >> those graves

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader

summary: You won, Min Yoongi. Isn't this what you wanted? You ran away from it all and now lose yourself in the forbidden passion of your stepsister's body day and night. Closer to her than ever. Careful now. The monsters that hide in the dark could tear you apart.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; warning! graphic sexual abuse of a minor — please do not read further if you are not comfortable; reader is the victim, mentions of hard drug use; shitty wealthy parents that abuse their adult children in the name of filial piety narcissism; toxic relationships; angst; stepsiblings; intense smut (fem reader, D/s (sub!JK), restraints, forced orgasm, cum eating, f and m-receiving oral, semi-public m-masturbation, edging, cock-and-ball torture (self + received), hair-pulling, nipple play, cumming on reader's face + chest, anal shower sex, choking, fingering, blindfold usage, heavy bruising / scratching, spit kink); non-idol!AU - orange-haired!Yoongi x savage, bad bitch!reader, ft obsessive, security guard!Jeon Jungkook; shifts between Yoongi’s, yours, and JK’s POV

Once again, be warned. This chapter details abuse of a minor, notably sexual as well as physical and mental. Reader is the victim. Although she is aware of how such abuse has warped her psyche, it is apparent that she uses dissociation as a coping mechanism from the worst of it. It is still awful. You are responsible for what you choose to consume. Please do not proceed unless you are in the headspace for monsters that do, sadly, exist in real life.

I do not condone this behavior. For storytelling purposes only.

He sat down on that black leather couch.

Spread his legs for his own comfort. His jacket was tossed to the side, out of the way. The living room was dark. All blinds drawn. Breathe out. He pushed his hair back, getting it out of the way. He set an arm on the back of the couch and raised his head. His skin prickled, warning him.

An icy itch slithered down his spine.

Min Yoongi looked up.

His stepsister smiled, a vicious image, and then she let her black lace dress slip down her body to step out of it.

He knew there was wrong in this world and Yoongi knew he was part of it. There was better than him. There was worse than him. Hell, his closest family was the epitome of the worst. He was definitely one of the wrong ones, by blood and by the path he had chosen to take. He had always been a runner, an escape artist, a bad son. He didn’t give a shit. The definition of insanity was doing something over and over again expecting a different result. Why continue being frustrated with something he couldn’t change? Why continue being berated and beaten repeatedly for not copying his father’s obscene behavior?

Why not do one better and take the one his father wanted most, over and over again?

Yoongi lifted two fingers ad curled them inward, beckoning his stepsister to him.

Life was about getting there.

This was true from the very beginning. You did what you had to do to keep living. It did not matter how you felt about it, and you did what you had to do so often that you forgot to feel something about it. Run. Hide. Cry. Be humiliated. These actions became second nature. The more you did them, the more detached you became. And so you did what you needed to do and felt nothing, just to retrieve your mother’s unconscious body back from whatever she had put herself though. That was the game. She counted on your part in the game. You fulfilled it. She rewarded with trinkets, a little treat, or something equally meaningless that meant everything to an impressionable child. Back then, it was easy. It was easy not to know better. It was easy to be a deceitful heart when nothing was wrong. Like your mother said, nothing could be wrong when you were born to play.

It had to become a game for it to be bearable.

You played the game.

What your mother didn’t count on was you becoming a slut to gain your own freedom. After teaching you to trust no one, she really thought she could make you dependent on the fragile bond of mother and daughter. After all, it was you and dear mother against the world, right? She never thought you would have the guts to make your own terms. Never thought you too could manipulate the people around you.

She wasn’t sober enough half of the time to stop you either.

The world around you was so, so fucked up and dear mother was the one to throw you to the wolves.

At some point, you had your revelation.

The first one was a son of some old guy.

Definitely older than you. Definitely should not be touching you. Didn’t want to either because he was repulsed by pussy. He did what he had to do so his dad wouldn’t know. You happened to be the easiest target in his line of vision. He had cornered you to do the deed, but was too terrified and too limp to do anything. You had been prepared to fight, steak knife behind your back, but the man ended up breaking down and crying. A first. Saying all kinds of things that you didn’t really understand, such as I can’t do this anymore and I have to and I’m sorry, they can’t know, who knows what, and you were looking down at him wondering how someone could have so much money and not be entirely selfish.

“Why don’t you?”

It was like a light bulb turned on in that vacant little brain.

Tear-stained face of a cowering naked creature under your narrow, barely-clothed body. He was bigger than you but, in this moment, he was small in the grandeur of your delicate, adamant defiance. You held up the knife, observing the way the low light gleamed off the blade, knowing you would have used it without hesitation. There was no fear in the desire for survival. You had tilted your head.

And you had felt it.

Power.

“W… W-What?”

You had smiled.

“You can keep a secret, right? Let’s make a secret.”

Your mother had no idea at the time that you were the one to provide the leverage she needed to leave that marriage. She just thought she had gotten lucky stumbling on her stepson in the middle of a gay orgy. Alimony and a quiet split as long as the shameful truth wasn’t revealed to the public. It had taken some time, but not as much as you had originally thought. You had simply copied what she did – created an addiction. Eventually, the addict went out of control. So what if you had to sleep with a few people? So what if you had created a cultish circle of rich kids fucking each other to get the curiosity started? It got you out of the house, away from hungrier eyes always straying from your mother.

Dumb bitch.

“It’s not so bad.”

A couple of men later. This one had been younger than your mother. Cutting lines of white right in front of you. Your mother was passed out. You weren’t worried. She wasn’t that pale. The man had offered you some but oddly accepted your declining. He did not accept you leaving his lap and his half-hard dick though. He snorted a narrow strip of few centimeters and sniffed hard.

“I bet you think all this sucks, doncha?” His satoori and drug habit had corroded his voice. His other hand was on your thigh. He squeezed. “But it isn’t so bad. I see you. You’re different. You’re not all here. And I bet you think people like me are dumb as rocks.” He tapped the side of his head, his pupils expanding like black holes. “But I ain’t dumb. I know your mother is here for money. That’s fine. I like dumb bitches who like getting face-fucked and think they’re making money by playing nice. She’d be making a lot more if she actually became a hooker. But you. I see it in your eyes.”

You had shrugged.

“Heh. I knew it. I knew you weren’t just a dumb little girl. Tell you what. I like you.”

You had stared at him. He offered you an obscene amount of money to suck his dick. But not only money. A safe box at the bank with your own key. It would take years for you to legally have your own assets. It was pointless to give you money that your mother still had access to. He promised to keep the key and give it to you when you came of age.

“I don’t trust you.”

He had grinned.

It was manic.

“Okay. Then you choose how I get off.”

You had frowned. You would always remember his face. Inviting. Sickly. Unfocused and ravenous like a hyena. His pupils had looked as if they were swallowing his irises. Ironically, his dark hair had been bleached, but the strands were turning a sickly orange due to poor upkeep. He would have been handsome if it wasn’t for the drug habit.

You also remembered how impressed you were at how he had played his game.

Then put your palm on his still-hard dick, leaning your weight on it. Gripped hard, as hard as your smaller hand could, crushing his balls into the seat, watching his features contort in pain.

And glee.

“You’re a liar,” you had said slowly, confirming it by digging your blunt nails inward. “You don’t like dumb bitches.”

He had been telling the truth about giving up a whole lot of money for what only you could give.

Jeon Jungkook was a security guard for a gentlemen’s club.

He also had a particular obsession with his boss. Not the old Master. Fuck no. The young Master, her daughter. And, although he doubted the feeling was mutual, they now shared a secret. It had to be intentional. She would do no such thing without purpose. Whether that purpose was in his best interest remained to be seen, but Jungkook didn’t really care. The world was fucked anyway. Might as well do some fucked-up things.

He was at work when he received the notification that the young Master was at her condo.

This was not uncommon. There was no need for the Masters to be here to constantly oversee operations. That was why they had managers and supervisors, after all. As for why Jungkook received the notification, well, he had begun to pay the security at that particular building a bit of money to let him know who was going in and out of that particular condo.

Not to do anything.

He just wanted to know.

A few nights ago, she had blindfolded him in the basement. Handcuffed him to a metal bar, naked, and done all sorts of things to him with ice, vibrators, and her pointed manicure. He still had scabbed lines over his back from where she had broken skin. His favorite part had been when she orgasmed while sandwiching the wand vibrator between his balls and her pussy. Holding his cock out of the way, of course. He could feel her cum seeping onto his inner thighs and her hot breath on his chest as she did it. He especially liked it when she scooped up her cum and shoved her slick fingers into his mouth and almost made him choke. Jungkook hadn’t liked it when she stimulated him with a vibrating silicone sleeve rather than her hand. He had begged to at least cum on the stone floor. She only let him if he spit in her hand first and then she used that as lube to jack him off to completion. He wished she had made him lick it up, but the basement floor wasn’t exactly clean.

She did, however, let him get on his knees and clean up her pussy.

Jungkook had an obsession.

He wanted to know who came in and out of the condo. He and the young Master shared a secret. He was a security guard. Hers. He wanted to protect. The best way to protect was to have information. The more information, the better. Spending a bit of money was not going to prevent him from protecting.

On his break, he was in his car when he checked his phone.

The people who had entered the condo were the young Master and her stepbrother.

This was no cause for alarm, but it did greatly piss Jungkook off.

Not for any good reason, he knew. He was in no place to think he was entitled to anything. Nor did he have any delusion about what his relationship was with the young Master. She had the body. She had the money. She could do whatever she wanted as long as she still cared enough to keep their secret. But Jungkook was still mad, because Min Yoongi was an asshole who couldn’t even see who was on his side.

He was also pissed because this information didn’t curb his hunger.

Jungkook sat back in his car and ran his fingers over his erection throbbing in his work pants. His left hand followed the side of his pants, to the slim pocket that held the black switchblade with the engraved tiger motif. It took some effort to unzip his pants. Even more to lower his boxer briefs. His hard cock sprang out, suddenly exposed in the cool air. He stared straight ahead, keeping his breath steady. Glanced at his rearview mirror to make sure his expression didn’t change. No one was coming to the employee parking lot anyway, but there were still cameras. He doubted any of them had the correct angle to see inside his car, but he also didn’t care. He ran the fingertips of his right hand over the head, smearing the pre-cum. Shivered, but otherwise didn’t let the pleasure show. He traced the hard lines of the tiger and stroked himself all over, his swollen cock throbbing uncomfortably, almost unbearable.

Remembered the way his Master touched him and made him sore.

Perfect.

Jungkook knew what the young Master was doing with her stepbrother.

He told himself he didn’t care.

But, still, sometimes he would miss the feeling she gave him. He kept his left hand on the knife she had given him and gripped his balls, squeezing hard. Delicious pain shot up his core. He kept his eyes open, staring straight ahead, aware of the movement around him, imagining her torturing him as he tortured himself, right in the open. Smacked his cock so hard that it hit his pant leg, the slap resounding in the confides of his car. He had to bite his tongue to avoid letting the illicit ecstasy show on his face. He did it again, louder, harder, squeezing his balls again right after to prolong the suffering, and none of it showed on his face even as his lower half vibrated with craving. He wanted her to tell him to stop. He wanted her to punish him. The edges of the switchblade cut into his palm as he hooked thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock and tightened.

The throb of pleasure was so powerful that his hips threatened to rise.

He used all of his willpower to prevent himself from doing so and instead smacked his abused cock once more, his toes curling inside his shoes to maintain the tension of staying upright and appearing unemotional so no one would even suspect how desperately and deeply he wanted to be tied up and used by his Master.

He needed it.

Needed it.

He loved having this secret with the young Master.

He carefully corrected himself. Zipped up his pants and, in doing so, noticed the faint white stains along the inner thighs of his pant legs. He let it be and returned to work. He received a few interesting looks from the working girls but Jungkook only thought about one person. Only one. He finished his shift with his underwear soaked in his pre-cum. The first thing he did when he left work was check his phone.

No new notifications.

He went straight home.

The last thing Min Yoongi knew was the right words to say.

It was one thing to be sure of something and another to hear the outward, sickening proof of it. It was one thing to know his own father was despicable and deplorable, but another to hear his own stepmother saying, what is the big deal? The shameful anger flared within him once more as he remembered. The suggestion itself, vile. The way it was presented even more so. But the anger came from somewhere else. From nights of tangled hands and skin-to-skin. From his teeth sunk into flesh, from his hands around her throat, from his cock buried deep inside his stepsister’s pussy. His. His, because she wanted him, because she willingly toyed with his emotions and pushed all his buttons and coiled around him like a viper, her saliva a venomous aphrodisiac. And the shame, well. The shame didn’t come from the wrongness.

No.

“Strip.”

The shame came from jealousy.

Jealousy from her reaching back so confidently and unhooking her bra, so casual and unbothered by his spiteful order. Her shoulders dipped, left, right, the straps smoothly sliding off as she held the lace cups. Too practiced to be accidental. Too graceful to be a novice and Yoongi was ashamed, ashamed for the way he watched her every move, ashamed at himself for how deeply it affected him, ashamed not at his cock twitching but at his chest tightening, his heart racing, the tremble in his own breath.

She slowly let the bra fall into her hands and tossed it aside, letting him look at the shapely curves and stiff nipples.

He had none of that.

And Yoongi was angry, so angry at his own father for trying to take her from him even though he had no right and no claim over this woman, but all the same, she is mine, mine, and you are a shitty father and took away any hope I had in this life so it is about time I take something for you too.

An eye for an eye.

She paused a few steps away. Hooked her finger over the sides of her black lace panties and bent forward, sliding them down, down. Her breasts fully exposed and, as she stood up, her pussy as well, the low light catching a hint of glistening slick. The blinds were all drawn, but it was still daylight outside, allowing the seeping bright cracks to light up the living room.

He breathed in and was greeted with the potent scent of sex.

One hand on his bare knee. Then the other. Yoongi was still wearing his charcoal, paint-stained jeans. The large rips in the knees allowed for the skin-to-skin contact. He didn’t say anything as she lowered herself to her knees. Didn’t dare breathe under that serpentine gaze. He was still wearing his designer t-shirt and made no move to take it off.

She smiled, her pink tongue tracing the edge of her smirk.

His cock throbbed, stretching out his boxer briefs.

Yoongi cocked his chin and stuck his tongue in his cheek.

Then he shot out his hand and grabbed her by the throat, pressing his fingertips inward. Dragged her neck towards him, growling in his chest, his pulse quickening at the sound of her gasp, his blood racing at the feeling of her hands sliding up his thighs, the now-familiar, ravenous desire coiling as her body slid up against his legs.

“How many times you get on your knees for a man?” he hissed, low and violent.

Her chuckle was so dark that he almost let go.

“Very kind of you to think of them as men, brother.”

Her fingers were at his zipper, yanking hard to pull it taut so she could unbutton his jeans. As if she had done this hundreds of times. He hated them all. He hated them and he had no idea who they were but he hated them all.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, letting his seething anger command him.

“I’m not your brother.”

He threw her back, unzipping his pants and shoving them down, underwear and all. His cock snapped out, bouncing slightly from the force and its stiffness. He didn’t bother to give any warning. Simply seized her shoulders and pushed her down, shuddering from seeing her slide down so readily, and he thrust into her already open mouth.

Fitted his palms to the back of her head, pushing her hair out of the way, and began to fuck her face.

Soft lips, rubbing tongue, tight throat. He didn’t care. Deep, rolling his hips, not moving too quickly on purpose so he could last. So he could feel his girth stretch out her muscles, so he could savor the wet constriction, so he could stare into her eyes gazing back at him from below and tell himself I don’t care, clenching his jaw to avoid moaning, I don’t care, the harsh pleasure eating up his thighs and sliding up his spine, I don’t care, sucking in a stinging inhale as her tongue teased him, stimulating the thin skin under the head, burning heat searing the back of his neck.

She stared into his eyes.

Somehow, Yoongi felt as if she was seeing all of him. But that was impossible.

His shoulder blades pressed against the back of the sofa and he smacked his hips into her lips over and over again, one hand on the back of her head and the other bunching up his shirt, his labored breathing meshing with the lewd sound of her sucking him off, his legs shaking badly, threatening to collapse from the sinful delight tearing at to every nerve of his body.

He kept going.

Her hands spread over the couch, steadying herself as he built the pace, her naked body under him.

Her tongue flicked over his balls.

Mine.

He bit back his groan and snapped his head back, gasping as he felt his core lurch, the high shooting though him like an erotic bullet ricocheting through his ribcage. Hips driving forward, shoving her head down, tightness in his chest as he pumped his release into her throat in thick uncontrolled streams. His lips parting. Her name leaking out in a weak snarl.

He should have said something.

Yoongi wouldn’t know what to say but this, this happening between his legs right now, this was not what a good person would have done. Not that he had any grasp of what the concept of good could be. He just knew it wasn’t this.

The pulse rippled through him and he shivered, tightening his grip on her hair.

Pulled her mouth from his cock.

She leaned back, following his hold, and opened her mouth, displaying a wet pool of saliva and milky cum trickling down to a black hole, her pink tongue flattening out so he could see everything. He watched her swallow. He watched her savor his taste without guilt.

His dripping cock jerked, still hard.

“Play with your tits.”

He kept his left hand twisted into her hair and wrapped his right around his wet length, forcefully pushing himself to the edge as she squeezed her breasts. Pinching her hard nipples, pulling at them, unapologetically sighing in lustful satisfaction, flicking them. Large, swollen, stiff. His eyes shifted to her face. She watched him through lashes. The corner of her lips curved upward, amused. He cocked an eyebrow. Slid his ass forward to the edge of the leather sofa, gripping himself tighter, faster, using the base of his palm to shove down the crown of her head so she was forced to crouch.

She didn’t seem surprised.

He curled his fist downward, pulling on her hair hard enough to be painful.

Her head whipped back, plush lips parting, smokey gasp escaping.

Yoongi stared into her eyes.

They reflected his face, glassy and dark.

“I… I fucking hate you.”

Those dark eyes glittered with glee.

He came on her face.

Her eyes instantly snapped closed as he raised his hips and shot a streak of white over her cheek and onto her open lips. Thrust into his hand a few more times, hissing at the sensitivity, dribbling more down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally shoving the hot, pulsing head against the top of her breasts, pressing into the softness and growling, feeling flare after flare of feral pleasure. Her hands came up and cupped her breasts, pushing them together. He shoved his softening cock into the crevice, smearing his orgasm into her skin, the heavy, strong scent mixing with the honey still wafting up from below.

His entire body shuddered.

He unclenched his fingers from her hair and wiped his cum on her cheek into her mouth, shoving two fingers into the hot wet warmth. He pushed them in and out. His exhale shivered as her lips closed around them and she sucked, sensual and wrong, sucked all the way up to his knuckles as he lightly thrusted into the pocket of her breasts that she was pressing together.

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t.

He leaned down and replaced his fingers with his mouth, kissing his stepsister roughly, his own cum sticking to his face and tongue.

Back then, lying was so normal that the concept of truth became foreign.

“You look so pretty when you cry with my cock in your mouth, babygirl.”

You didn’t even have to think about it anymore while it was happening. You just did what you needed to do. You already knew the timing. Intoxicated and pissed from that younger guy turning her down, your mother would come home early, storming into the master bedroom without knocking. The entire scene laid out. No mistaking the situation. Instant incrimination. Immediately screaming her head off, hitting her current flavor-of-the-month boyfriend with her clutch, yelling about how it was over, and that argument would drag on with your body lying face-first into the carpet, your mascara tears soaking into the white shag, and the ache of your wrists tied behind your back with a men’s tie.

Inside, you would be laughing.

Your mother would then force yet another man to pay her a lot of money to keep her mouth shut. She always played her cards right. She always knew too much. She knew what kind of men to target. She knew what truths to say to render them speechless and so deep in the fog that they simply did whatever she asked. These men stood no chance in the wake of her manipulation. It was a talent, really. She would look at you and you would look back. Not saying anything. Slap you too, perhaps, if she had thought she could get more money out of the rich fucker. She probably assumed you were jealous or suspected that you wanted her spotlight, maybe.

Didn’t matter.

Because the night before that younger man that had turned down your mother at the bar, he had paid you even more money to be in your lap dressed in a lacy nightie with his own wrists tied behind his back, violently riding your large strap-on while you pulled on the leash around his neck, and you had whispered behind his back.

Low and dark.

“You gonna cum for your daddy, babygirl?”

Your mother really was a dumb, dumb bitch.

She made sure you were stuck in a world where everyone shot everybody. And so you did, although you only had one true target. Slowly, delicately, precisely. Needle by needle. Man by man. Old, young, in between. Sick fantasies and voracious greed in the shadows. Each conquest without remorse, creating a cyclic lifestyle your mother became so used to that it became an unbreakable habit. An addictive drug with soaring highs and explosive lows. You could have used a gun. Of course. How easy it could have been to ruin the life of the one who gave birth to you by exposing time after time she had exploited your youth for her own gain. But that would have been too quick of an end. Too merciful.

She didn’t deserve that.

Did your mother know? Probably. Did she want to stop it? Of course not. A constant flow of hush money and a revolving door of rich dick, oh, how could she refuse? The luxurious benefits were too fruitful to resist. And when she got bored, she could make your life insufferable until you pulled out that get-out-jail-free card. Most of the time, though, you simply sensed when she was over it and ended things to move on to the next best thing.

Searching.

Hunting.

You just had to be patient.

And then Min Yoongi came along.

Everything falling into place.

Bored, frustrated, agitated with having to play this part for so long and wanting to use you again to get her out of it. A small snag. If your mother was the one to ask for the divorce, she would get nothing. Prenuptial agreements were a bitch. He was disgusting person, but unfortunately not an idiot. And Papa wasn’t giving up yet. After years and years of relying on someone else to do the dirty work, and then being silently refused by that same someone, well, who was going to help her now? Still, she tried to manipulate you.

Your mother was too much of a narcissist to see that you had already surpassed her.

In addition, at this point, she had too much pride to change tactics now. It was a matter of principle. A matter of exercising her power over you, vain was it was. The perception of control. She thought she had won all the battles but she had already lost this war. No. No, she would not allow it. It didn’t matter if it was becoming clearer and clearer each day that she was stuck in a cage. So, your mother did what she always did. Drink. Seek out the high in others. Run. And, at the end of it all, kicking and screaming, getting dragged back to be Papa’s good, obedient wife.

Heh.

Revenge was delicious.

His fingers wrapped around her left wrist, around the chain bracelet with the black glass beads.

He was already inside.

His right hand was around her neck, pulling her head back to force her spine to arch as he shoved his hips forward a little more, making them both hiss. Him from the tightness. Her from the fullness. It must have hurt, but Min Yoongi was fucking his stepsister and he didn’t have time to care about things like that.

“Your ass is much tighter than your pussy,” he growled into ear, pushing back her wet hair.

The raining showerhead thundered down. Warm droplets splashing against burning skin. She had both palms against the vertical, smooth white tiles, using the leverage to push her body back into him, squeezing his length. He didn’t care. The grimace rippled down his body, his core tightening, his hard cock twitching. Not moving yet. He would be damned if he moved right now. Kept his grip on her wrist and neck, feeling pulse after pulse race through his blood, his erratic breath against her ear, not looking up from the curve of her tense neck.

Yoongi just stood there in the opulent shower, his fully erect cock buried into his stepsister’s tight asshole, clenching his pelvic muscles to make it throb inside her.

It was wrong. It was demeaning. He hadn’t even asked. She had left him on the couch and walked past him, still painted with his cum, and said nothing as she entered the bedroom. A few seconds later, he had heard the running water. Yoongi had sat there, pants still undone, dying in the weight of this watery silence, feeling both the sting of pain and blind anger. He didn’t care. He didn’t care, and the lies he told himself were second nature at this part, something so lived-in that they became real, even as Yoongi flung himself off the leather sofa and yanked his clothes off, throwing them on the floor. All the way to the bathroom, laying false claim on this condo, seeing himself in the mirror for a second before entering the shower.

His gelled, orange-dyed hair in disarray and his lost expression.

His dark eyes misty.

It must have been a trick of a light, a result of the steaming air, that his vision blurred unexpectedly.

Without another thought, Yoongi had opened the glass door of the shower and let himself in, pushing her body against the tiles and not letting her see his face because even he didn’t want to look at it now.

She moaned under him, not moving away.

I hate you.

He let go of her left wrist and reached down, sliding his fingers between her open legs and tracing the slick, wet lips of her pussy.

“Must be awful for you to have this hole empty.”

A wicked, dark snicker flowed out from her open lips, more telling than any words.

His chest to her back. His hand around her neck, tightening, and he pressed his rough fingertips to her swollen clit, relishing in the depraved satisfaction of her hips shivering, bucking back against him in response. He pressed down, sliding back and forth. Slow, with pressure, and moving his own hips. Drawing back, almost, her tight ring of muscle clutching around the base of the head. He hoped it tortured her. He hoped it felt good to be denied, hoped she felt the empty ache as he rutted the engorged tip of his cock in and out, in and out, then he shoved his cock back in, all the way.

The pleasure flared, burning all of his nerves and making his legs scream in tension.

He hoped she could feel the hurt, because Yoongi could.

Choked her harder and began to fuck her ass.

Close, his breath into her wet hair. Water streaming down his shoulders. Thrusting up and with effort, slow at first, but forceful, suffocating his arousal with the depth. He bit his lip, hard, letting the pain eat through the pleasure. So tight around his hard length, so soft along the sensitive, throbbing head, sucking him in, her thin moans echoing throughout the bathroom along with the slapping of hips to ass. Her body shaking under him. He let go of her neck suddenly, gripping her hip instead, driving his fingertips into her folds and rubbing tight circles, flicking his blunt fingernail over the packed nerves.

She hissed, her shoulders caving in, and growled his name, the tendons of her hands popping out.

“Fuck, Yoongi!”

There was an abrupt convulsion around his buried cock and passionate electricity radiated all over his inner thighs, up his stomach, to his throat, turning him viciously breathless, her orgasm slick on his fingers, and his hand on her hip gripped tighter, pausing to feel the aftershocks.

He hoped he left bruises.

On her body and in her memory.

So tight, uncontrolled now, chasing the wicked pleasure. He thrust in, again and again, loud and lewd and wet, her back arched, lower torso nearly parallel to the ground, and Yoongi sank his hold into her lush hips, dragging her to him and his unforgiving cock, his vision blurring, his hair sticking to his face, fuzzy smears of dark orange eclipsed with droplets clinging to his lashes, and he closed his eyes, pretending there was nothing but this, nothing but tightness and pleasure and her cries for him, wanton and unsatiated. The water tumbled, down, down, splashing over the tiles. He was drowning, drowning in lust, and the water drowned out his sudden hungry moan.

Smack!

She gasped sharply, on the edge of pain.

He groaned, violent and possessed, spilling into that soft clenching hole, and he could feel every jerk, every shiver, every twitch that shot a little more. Could feel even the way the choked head of his cock was being squished up against his own cum, the delicate rubbing sending a fresh wave of piercing pins and needles tearing through him.

Couldn’t breathe.

Staggered back, slipping out, and it was obscene. His orgasm wasn’t as much, of course, but even in the hazy falling water he could see his own cum dribble out of her ass and stick to the curve, clinging there for a violating millisecond before being washed away, dragged down the drain along with his sins.

Yoongi panted, the back of his throat feeling as if an animal had clawed at it.

He looked up.

Her head was turned, hair flat against her cheeks, one eye seeing him, and the fingertips of her right hand toyed with the chain bracelet with the black beads. There were red marks on her left wrist, underneath the jewelry. The edge of her lips raised in gratification.

The water fell down, down.

He didn’t say anything.

Reached forward and smeared what was left along her hole, then remained tight-lipped as he shoved his finger in, sucking back a breath. She gasped, but it was faint and not a whimper. It was lustful and carnal satisfaction. He pushed in and out. In and out. Still tight, still gripping him, pulsing around his finger, learned behavior, and Yoongi wanted to scream.

Mostly because he knew this practiced response was most likely not from instances like this, but much crueler, hateful moments.

He placed his palm along her jaw and turned her face more to face him. Leaned in without another word, sliding his tongue into her open mouth and slowly thrusting his finger into her ass. All the way to his knuckle, slow and deliberate. Gentle pleasure. The water rained down, down. It washed away all sins. He pulled his finger out. Turned his back to her, taking the soap.

Couldn’t look.

Yoongi told himself he didn’t care. Cleaned off his hand. Covered himself in the soap, rubbing the sweet lather into his skin while staring at the white tiles. Told himself there was nothing to say. Told himself the tingling left on his skin was just from the physicality of it all and nothing else. Nothing else.

He stiffened as he felt her hard nipples ghost his skin.

“I’ll wash your back.”

He tightened his jaw.

“Brother.”

Her full breasts pressed against his back. Her hands on his shoulders, caressing them. All over, body to body, slippery, fragrant. He bit back his sound, killing it. His chest vibrated, the snarl inside fighting him. Snapped his head around, knocking her hand away, his wet hair over his eyes.

Couldn’t quite catch her expression from behind the dripping curtain of red-orange.

“Stop calling me brother.”

He didn’t care.

Didn’t care.

He was no different from anyone else who touched her. Yoongi reached out, closing his grip around her shoulder. Pulled her to him, their bodies colliding, his heavy breath on her face.

Avoided her eyes.

“We are alone. Stop pretending,” he mumbled, leaning down to those lips, bruising them with kisses to avoid any more slip-ups.

You awoke to silence.

Turned your head and Min Yoongi was staring at you in the semi-darkness. Shirtless. Arms crossed, looking down, with the duvet pooled around his lower waist. His dyed, dark orange hair hung down, slightly frizzy and unkempt. Not styled. Air-dried from the shower. His pale skin seemed even paler than usual, the pallor reflecting the grim expression on his face. Narrowed, guarded dark eyes. Frigid tension between his lips.

A slow breath weaved through the tightness in your chest that was slowly dissipating due to now being conscious and in control.

You could feel your nakedness under the duvet.

The curtains were barely open, allowing a strip of moonlight and city light to illuminate the dark bedroom. You gazed back at Yoongi but said nothing. He must have witnessed. You inhaled again. A slow, measured breath. Held it. Exhaled. It was almost unnoticeable, barring the fact that your stepbrother was staring right at you.

“You had a nightmare.”

His lips barely moved. Each word came out deliberately and impassively, trying to avoid the true intention behind such words, and, in doing so, revealing everything. You almost expected the low edge of irritation. You could tell he regretted not adding it.

You almost lied.

Almost.

“I always dream,” you whispered back with no emotion, desensitized.

Complete and utter stillness.

A single shift and tilt of his head, not accepting your response. You looked up at him from the pillow, the images flashing in your head, but they quickly disintegrated, leaving only the crawling sensation of distorted parasitic desires forced upon you at one point in time. You ignored it. They always came in dreams because they couldn’t reach you without the shackles of sleep.

“You mean you always have nightmares,” Yoongi corrected you.

Inhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You had no reply to the truth.

Maybe it was the surrealness of the dead of night. Maybe it was the unholiness of what happened in your bed with your stepbrother earlier. Maybe it was the used condoms on the floor and the torn wrappers all over the nightstand. Maybe it was the scent of sex and sin weighing heavily in the air. As close as possible and yet so far away. His dark brown eyes flickered to the empty easel on the other side of the bedroom. Then back to your form coiled in the sheets, serpentine, and yet in a rare moment of calm. Hunger satiated, at least for now.

Yoongi asked you a question with no notable inflection. Perhaps it was the low volume of his voice, raspy and dreamlike.

“Am I ever part of your nightmares?”

You almost twisted the truth.

“You are related to one of many monsters I have encountered,” you breathed, staring into the shadows of his eyes.

Loathing flared within in at the mention.

Your stepbrother looked away.

“I know.”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see any more.

“There are always monsters,” you whispered to the surrealness of the night.

Yoongi said nothing.

He had never seen you sleep before. Even on so-called family vacations, you had never shared a room with him. More often than not there would be a mix-up and you would end up having a sleepless night in the same hotel room as your stepfather and mother. That or running off with a local to finally get some sleep. It was safer to be in a stranger’s home than in a hotel room with those two. That was the truth. Those vacations were only for show anyway; there was no meaning to them other than a chance at coercion. You knew Yoongi knew that.

He hadn’t known about your nightmares though.

You had grown so used to them that you had forgotten. A strange slip-up for you. No, you concluded, not a slip-up. You didn’t have them every night. Just most nights. You knew there could have been a chance the moment you closed your eyes while in bed with him. You hadn’t planned for him to know, but this was not a mistake. Making plans was for novices. Plans never succeed. Capitalizing on the moment and turning it into an opportunity at the right time, why, that was what constituted a villain.

And, sometimes, one had to become a villain to survive.

You waited.

Min Yoongi didn’t move for a long, long time. He stayed where he was, not laying back down and not adjusting. You would feel and hear his actions if he did. He did not. There was nothing but his calm, nearly inaudible breath and soon it became a lulling rhythm, swaying your consciousness between reality, nightmares, or total blackness.

You hoped it would be total blackness this time.

Deep, deep down, for yet another countless night in a row, you wished for the total blackness to become eternal despite knowing full well that you would never be that lucky. That was the funny thing about wishes.

Even the most unworthy cling to them.

On the cusp of falling asleep, you felt the weight on the bed shift. Yoongi left.

A few blocks away, Jeon Jungkook stood shirtless in his bathroom and locked eyes with his own reflection.

The hot sweat along his shoulders was drying. He savored the way his heart raced in his chest, thud-thud-thud, matching the click-click-clicking of the images flickering through his mind. He closed his eyes and he could almost feel it again, once again, the crawling sensation of forced desire, her slick tongue sliding over his collarbone and then her spit hitting the back of his throat, his mouth open and already primed to receive. In his dreams, there was no blindfold.

In his dreams, Jungkook could see her face.

In his dreams, he could relish in the power thriving in those downcast eyes, watch her nails sink into his stomach as he whimpered, witness her delicious body roll as her slippery pussy rubbed against his hard length trapped in an uncomfortable and unbearable position, the dark purple head leaking against his lower belly. The young Master would not give him what he wanted and Jungkook would cry. He would beg.

And he would hate and love hearing the denial.

Jungkook breathed in slow, recalling the dream and committing it to memory.

Inhale.

The ache within him grew and grew.

Inhale.

He knew exactly where she lived. The building. The number on the door. He even knew how to bypass the security. He had memorized their schedules and gathered enough damning information. It was always good to have ammunition, after all. The young Master had taught him that.

Exhale.

Then again, she was most likely fucking her stepbrother right now.

His eyes snapped open and Jungkook growled at his reflection, tension creeping all over his body.

It took him a moment to calm down. There was nothing he could do about it. He breathed out again, his shoulders falling. His reflection observed him as closely as he did. His black hair fallen over his forehead, tangled from sleep. Eyes sharp, brows furrowed. His hands gripped the edge of the sink. He could see how wound up he was by how white his knuckles were. He let go. She shared a secret with him. He had to trust in that. He was confident in that secret.

He had to be.

He worked for her. He was of service. He took that very seriously, regardless of what an outsider might think, because he had chosen to be a man of loyalty. Jungkook knew where his loyalties lie, and he was not a man who could be swayed by irrefutable truths because he could always recall that look in her eyes. That poisoned guilt, that vacancy, the look of a child begging for someone to help, and he had made a silent promise that even she didn’t know about.

To those eyes.

To her.

In a world there everyone backstabbed everyone else, Jungkook had chosen to be the knife to be wielded by one who still believed she had no one by her side. Of course, it was stupid. Of course, she was not faultless. Of course, everything was all wrong.

But they shared a secret.

He turned his head, not quite facing the mirror, but instead in the direction of the location of her condominium, and spoke to the air, to the dead of night, across the distance of many heads in between reality and dreams. She could not hear him but that did not make his declaration invalid.

“I will protect you.”

And perhaps his loyalties would eventually turn the young Master against him. He hated that that could be true, but such was life. And maybe he definitely couldn’t save anyone, but he would die trying. Did she not deserve such loyalty? Even the most unworthy didn’t deserve to be abandoned.

After all, there was always some awful truth to villainous behavior.

He missed her.

He wished he could hold her, someday. He wished for that to be possible, even if it was the slimmest of chances. He hoped she had understood him back then, hoped he had conveyed how serious he was every time they interacted. I like it with you. It’s different. That was right. She said so herself. And so, Jungkook promised to play with game with her, no matter what it looked like, no matter how much he wanted to punch that self-centered Min Yoongi right in his stupid pretty face, no matter how much he hurt because his hurt meant her happiness and eventually she would come back to him.

Of course.

Jungkook bit his lower lip, inhaling slowly.

Right?

Held it.

“Come back to me,” he whispered to the surrealness of the night and he knew damn well she couldn’t hear him.

Min Yoongi sat on the couch in the living room of his stepsister’s condo with only his underwear on after his business with the bathroom. He had gone to the kitchen to wash his hands because he could not stare at his own reflection in the mirror.

He inhaled a shaky breath.

The proper thing to do would be to go back to the bedroom. Well, proper was the wrong word considering he was sleeping with his own stepsister. Perhaps the better word for it was… ethical. Fuck, even halfway decent. He couldn’t get the image of her distress out of his head. Waking up suddenly to her hands clutching the pillow, her knuckles white, her breathing rapid and labored. At first, he thought his brain had made up the sounds. Nonsensical muted cries. Pained noises trapped in her throat. Her entire body tense, on the verge of thrashing but not. Rigid.

Couldn’t.

Paralyzed in fear.

Yoongi tried to gulp down more air. Shuddering. Swallowing. Feeling like it wasn’t enough, falling forward and running his hands through his hair, his elbows on his knees.

He had never seen her afraid. Truly and utterly terrified, and it only appeared because she had been asleep. The moment he hesitantly touched her shoulder, she startled awake, instantly vigilant. The transformation had been seamless, and then she was herself. Calm, collected, calculated. Only now did Yoongi realize it was a caricature. A front so practiced that it had become second nature. Not intentionally but out of necessity. It frightened him, because now Yoongi had confirmation that his father was just another in the long line of self-centered assholes that attempted to take advantage of her and he was no better.

He was no better.

He shakily exhaled, torn and in tatters.

There are always monsters.

Of course, there were always monsters and Yoongi was one of them.

He wanted to run. Throw on all his clothes and run to his studio, locking himself in there and not coming out until he couldn’t stand being alone anymore. He wanted to scream and drown himself in alcohol. He wanted to pick a fight with some hapless stranger and feel powerful. Even if just for a second. Anything. Anything but this. An awful crawling sensation travelled all over his bare back. He shivered even though it had no physical basis. He wasn’t stupid. Yoongi had seen the way men looked at her – as if she was a thing to be used. He had convinced himself not to care. Why care? She didn’t. He had vowed himself not to get involved like that but now he was sitting in her living room wanting to tear his skin off thinking about the probable shit she had been though in her childhood and having the horrifying realization that the truth was probably beyond his imagination. Attempted to take advantage of her? He was lying to himself again.

He wanted to go home.

Except he knew damn well he never had a home.

Yoongi had lived his life in the shadow of a greater man, or so he was led to believe. Even if this didn’t turn out to be true, he could not undo the paradoxical thinking of overwhelming self-importance and the constant struggle of trying to reach an unattainable goal. He was never enough for his father. Eventually he just stopped trying to be. Every achievement was met with the accusation, a need to be more. More ambitious, more strategic, more intelligent. It was impossible. He had long stopped giving a fuck, or so he thought.

And yet.

Like her nightmares, his own personal hell came back to haunt him all the time.

He dug his fingernails into his scalp, on the cusp of screaming.

The only reason he didn’t was because he didn’t want to wake her. Or perhaps it was because he didn’t want her to know. There was nothing he could do. He could do nothing. He never could, according to his father. Lacked resolve, or at least that was what Yoongi had been told over and over. You are a disgrace. There was at least solace in knowing that he wasn’t his father, right? He didn’t know. Was that even true, considering all of this? I always dream. She was so used to them that nightmares were simply considered regular dreams to her. How fucked was that? Shit, her entire life was a goddamn nightmare and she didn’t even know. Or maybe she did, and had adapted accordingly, something he could never do, something Yoongi could never admit to himself, at least not unless it was times like this, trapped in the surreal depths of the dead of night.

He tried to breathe but it seemed impossible.

He knew deep down that he was worthless, but even the worthless had desires. And he wasn’t stupid either. She was using him. He was using her. She wanted him for her reasons and he wanted her to get back at his father. Shit. She was afraid and she showed no one, not even herself, dealing with it in her sleep. Didn’t trust him. Why the fuck would she? He was her stepbrother, they were having an incestuous affair, and not once did she rely on him.

But he did.

Yoongi shuddered.

That was true.

He relied on her to want him so he could feel better about himself.

I am so fucking vile.

She didn’t even make him feel guilty about it. There are always monsters. She could have. She could have emotionally manipulated him, she could have said something to get a rise out of him, but all she did was tell him the truth of how desensitized she was to malignance. She had options. He did not expect to be so shaken by the one she chose. His fingernails dug into his scalp some more, causing stinging pain. Yoongi dared not look up because he knew her paintings were hanging on the walls around him. Multiple canvases painted black all over with thin lines of dark blood-red drawn onto the murk like arteries. He had found them unsettling and rightfully so. Underneath them were secrets. “I love you, so I act this way.” “You should accept love. It’s not that easy to be loved in this world.” “You can keep a secret, right?” “Let’s make a secret.” Scrawled underneath and then covered with heavy layers of paint, almost certainly hundreds of secrets, and the awful crawling sensation travelled up and down his spine like hot acid.

He didn’t want to know.

Yoongi knew that he should go back to the bedroom if he was even halfway decent of a man.

But he was terrified.

He could not be like her.

He couldn’t deal with it.

He had to make a decision. He forced himself to take a breath. Then another. He forced himself to stand, to exhale, to walk. What was not supposed to be ingrained in memory already was. All he had to do was follow the trail of discarded clothes. Vile. He stepped between darkness and light, but the faint glow was artificial, bleeding into the windows from the city below, and Yoongi knew he could not be like his stepsister but he wanted to believe that he could. He wanted to believe he could play the game. He did not want to believe he was just another discarded misfit toy. Couldn’t. And so he chose not to believe the irrefutable truth, turning the corner to see her eyes closed. Her lustrous hair draped over her pillow. Her facial expression not in distress but, instead, nothing. A mind trapped in total blackness.

Dreamlessness.

Yoongi had never been so grateful to see nothing.

He stepped to her side of the bed.

In some ways, she resembled a child, or at least the peacefulness of one in slumber. His hand lifted. Each strand of her hair, the curve of her cheek, the line of her closed eyes. From moonlight to memory, although at the time he didn’t know it yet. He reached out. His fingertips hovered above the crown of her head and Yoongi realized, with a tightness in his chest, that he would be perhaps the first and the only person to do this for her.

His palm touched the top her head.

His stepsister remained fast asleep. Yoongi stayed like that for a moment. He knew damn well that she would never feel the sensation of someone patting her on the head but he did it anyway.

You left before your stepbrother woke up.

To be more precise, you didn’t confirm or deny if he was faking his deep breathing. You simply accepted it as truth. Dressed in your closet, picked up your purse, and stepped out of the apartment, heading for your car. Not looking back. Purchased a light breakfast, spending some solitary time in the hotel restaurant. Headed to your appointment with Valentino, where you absentmindedly picked a few pieces for work, thinking about the word nightmare.

Dreams.

You called them dreams. Yoongi had called them nightmares. The correct word was memories. Ones that you did not acknowledge. The times you were the prey before you became the predator. The times you were weak before you were strong. The first time you felt power was the first time. Not all those other times where you hid and prayed not be found before the drugs or drunkenness set in. Not those other times you were approached, despising it not because of learned morality, but because the touching placed you in the same category as your mother, something you loathed more than the wrongness. Misery was something unnecessary and meaningless. Pain was something you could acclimate to. Death was something you could aspire to. But being known as your mother’s spitting image was a fate worse than death.

You had a nightmare.

You made your luxury purchases. You window-shopped at a few other spots, all while questioning your humanness that you had thought you had lost long ago. You could sense the judgement in the eyes of the other patrons. The employees were sincere because you were holding your black card, but not a single one dared to ask you about your personal life. It was not about whether you seemed stuck-up in your long structured black wool cape, nor the subtle sensuality of your fitted, slinky black dress with the high slit, studded Valentino black pumps, and small black handbag.

There was just something not quite right about your presence.

You slipped into this persona when you didn’t want to be bothered. Natural, but perhaps not. The eyes felt louder than usual today. You had dreams. Everybody had dreams. You had a nightmare. You had heard the word before, and yet the way he said it. You placed your shopping bags in your car and drove away with no destination in mind. Flashes of memory. Whiskey and a hand on your wrist. You waited for the light to turn green and ventured forward. Nights in private rooms in bars you were too young for. You stopped at a nice restaurant in a high-rise, sitting at by the window with a nice view, slicing into your steak in silence as you pondered how it would feel to throw your body against the glass and plunge into free-fall, wondering if you would have the life-flashing-before-your-eyes-moment, if you would recall all the countless hands and the whispered placations and being awake for all of it, so much so that you caged those memories into dreams.

You patted your lips with the cloth napkin before paying the check.

A man said something to you as you were leaving and you looked at him with such hollowness that he took a step back, visibly shaken. You forgot about it. You shopped for a little longer, purchasing another pair of nice, wickedly tall heels. There was one final errand to complete before heading home to fuck your stepbrother. You took your time.

Days passed.

And then, elation.

Jeon Jungkook stood in front of the door of salvation. He raised a hand to the heavy wood. Held his breath. Savored the sensation of his need crawling up from his insides, rearing its ugly head and shaking his heart to a rapid, telltale pulse. He knocked.

“Come in.”

His breath hitched at the familiar voice.

He opened the heavy door of the office on the highest floor of the gentleman’s club and the young Master looked up from the other side of the desk. Hair swept back in a graceful updo with a few tasteful strands framing her face. The dark silver blouse clung to her curves. Silk. The fountain pen in her hand paused.

Her eyes roamed all over him.

He almost collapsed in desperation.

She said nothing. She did not stand up from behind the dark-stained cherry wood. He stepped in cautiously, placing his body on the other side of the door. It was a large office of black floral wallpaper, large black filing cabinets, and chairs positioned along the walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind her desk were bulletproof glass. One-way view. This was one of the areas that had no cameras. Even the bathrooms had cameras positioned outside the stalls to catch any nefarious acts. He knew all of this. The chandelier diffused cold-blooded white light in reflected fragments all over the room.

The look in her eyes pinned him to his spot.

His spine tingled as an n icy itch slithered down to his groin.

“Lock the door behind you,” the young Master commanded him.

He did as he was told, with every cell in his body vibrating for the pain. Turned around. Like a snake, she had already risen, gliding around the desk. Her hips were tucked into a skin-tight pleather pencil skirt. The wicked high heels were silent against the vintage Persian rug. She was probably standing on over a hundred million won. She stopped in front of her desk.

Unfastened the button of her left sleeve.

Casually looked down to smoothly fold it back to her elbow. Jungkook remained rooted, not crossing the distance without an order despite his growing erection already fighting against his pants. Golden light glistened along her periphery, highlighting every line. Hell turned heavenly. She completed the left sleeve and paused, raising her right hand to waist height.

Tilted her head back and beckoned him with two fingers.

“Come forward.”

With each step his own heart beat against the confines of his ribcage. With each step Jungkook knew his arousal was becoming more and more obvious. He deliberately kept his hands by his sides, not hiding anything, and her eyes flickered down as she folded her right sleeve back. There was a ripple of knowing across her features. He stopped at a respectful distance. They were alone. The door was locked. This room was soundproof. He was in the middle of his shift when he was called up, which never happened unless one had committed a grave mistake. He knew this, and yet he was still inappropriately, obscenely, violently turned on. She finished rolling up her sleeve to the elbow and reached back to an object that was behind her, tucked by the computer monitor in between papers.

A black leather blindfold.

She tilted her head. He was taller than her, but that meant nothing. She ticked the blindfold in her hand, wordlessly telling him to come closer. He did so, his face frozen, on the cusp of falling apart. He was in his full uniform. Cap and all. It was as if none of that mattered. He tried to search for some kind of emotion on her face but she remained impassive.

“On your knees.”

He obeyed so quickly that they both heard the heavy sound of his weight hitting the floor under the carpet. She did not even smile. She stared down at him. He looked up at her. He wanted to say he needed it. He wanted to say do anything to me, anything you want, please do it now, and yet all she did was hold the blindfold in one hand with her ass against the edge of her desk, gazing down at Jungkook’s spread knees and trembling body.

He was so hungry for it that he was shaking.

Her eyes stopped at the obvious bulge in his pants and she declared in a noncommittal tone, “I am going to hurt you. Right now.” His breath froze in his throat. “On my dime, I’m going to hurt you. And then you will go back to work, hurting, and you will not let a single person know.”

No explanation about what happened the past couple days. Jungkook knew she had left her apartment and always gone back. He also knew her stepbrother had not left with her during those outings. That meant when she went back, she was most likely fucking him. Jungkook knew that. But she came back here. Here, to the gentleman’s club she owned. Where he worked. She came back, and probably not for him. And yet.

Yet he was on his knees right now because she forced him to.

She owned him.

That was all he ever wanted.

“Yes, Master.”

Her line of vision raised. She stepped forward, and placed her right shoe on his thigh. He gasped, feeling the pressure in the toe of her heel and then the tip of the stiletto. His cap was removed from his head and delicately placed on the desk. Her face lowered. For a single, hovering second, they were eye-to-eye.

“Close your eyes, Jungkook,” she whispered against his lips.

He did and she slipped the blindfold over his eyes before buckling it tightly in place.

You straightened.

Looked down at him.

You had never done this before. Not in the middle of the day, in this office that used to be your mother’s. These walls had seen a lot of fucking, you knew. Your mother used to be notorious for it. This place was tainted. Festering with immoral intent. You removed your shoe from his leg. Heard Jungkook’s small gasp of relief whisper past his quivering lips. You previously used the basement because it was the place where horrible acts were meant to be committed, the place your mother refused to go because it was beneath her to do such nasty things. You had turned the basement into your safe space. This office was her space. Her space to use her sexuality as her power, and therefore you had only used it to conduct official business. Until now.

You placed your shoe on top of his pant-covered erection and put pressure on it.

He whimpered, locking his knees and taking it.

You violated your mother’s space with Jungkook’s pure, ravenous need to service you.

“Have you been wanting me?” you asked, placing a hand on the edge of the desk so you could rub back and forth while stepping on his cock.

“Y… ah, y-yes…”

“Craving me?”

“Yes… oh, f-fuck…”

You shoved the tip of your stiletto in between the dip of his thigh connecting to his crotch, digging into that soft part without remorse.

“Touching yourself thinking only of me?”

His voice shook but his resolve did not.

“Only you.”

Jungkook made no move to hide or conceal himself. You removed the pressure and stepped around him, admiring the angles on his body. His hands were fists, knuckles pressed into the carpet. The clip of the tiger switchblade was visible from the side pocket of his uniform pants. You stopped behind him. Laced your fingers into his short black hair and yanked, hard, making him gasp to the ceiling. You leaned down, breathing out just above his open mouth. He inhaled greedily, his broad shoulders vibrating with need. You stared straight down his chest, to his exposed crotch, and whispered into the black hole of his throat, “Take your cock out and show me.”

He whined as his hands left the carpet. Centimeter by agonizing centimeter. His belt unbuckled, flopping to the side. Time slowed down despite his haste to undo his pants, nearly ripping the zipper, but you did not relieve him of your grip, staring straight down as he pushed down his pants. Pushed down his black boxer briefs, and then pulled out his stiff, leaking length. The head was dark red and glistening. He moved his right hand closer to the base of the shaft. You pulled on his hair, making his lower lip brush against your chin as he moaned, immediately backing off.

“Your balls too. Out.”

He reached again, but only to scoop his balls out, leaving his genitals fully exposed to the air.

You breathed in, savoring his unique scent.

His hard cock twitched, bobbing.

You let go of his hair.

Backed up, saying nothing. Stayed silent, admiring everything about him. He could certainly hear the movement of your skirt, but he remained head back, his hands hovering by his hips, and you sank to your knees between his.

And slapped his cock.

His head snapped to the side and he cried out.

“Louder,” you ordered, and slapped him again.

His screams radiated throughout the office.

You gripped his balls and squeezed, listening to the effect of your assault ravage his lungs. His torso writhed. You released and dug your nails inward, making his shoulders flinch strongly. You smacked the shaft again, watching it bounce from side to side from your force. His deep voice cracked. You wrapped your hand around him and his cock was hot, pulsating, needy. Again and again, you slapped his cock, reaching up with your free hand to unbutton his shirt.

One.

By.

One.

His naked chest was exposed in a deep v-line. You reached in and dragged your nails down as you ghosted your palm around his sore, abused cock, delicately rubbing the length against your skin as you tore him up. Jungkook couldn’t help himself. He reached up and unfastened the rest of the buttons, pushing his shirt past his shoulders and exposing more of his body to your nails. His nipples were already hard. You pinched one and made him yelp. The result was instant, rippling throughout his body, even making his cock jolt against your hand, smearing pre-cum onto your wrist.

You collected saliva on the edges of your teeth.

Leaned in and placed the flat of your tongue onto his shivering collarbone, leaking spit down his pecs.

“O-Oh my god…”

Closer.

You kept a hold onto his cock until your skirt was pressed up in between his thighs, and then let go. There was an audible, visceral smack of his thick length hitting the pleather against your thighs. He moaned deeply. You grabbed him by the hair and pulled, relishing in his groan of discomfort, and pressed up against his aching body, thrusting your tongue forcefully into his mouth.

You made sure the blindfold was in place.

His hips bucked, desperate for friction, and you kissed him roughly, demandingly, uncaring to his plight and him grinding his balls into the hem of your skirt. Your other hand slid down the nape of his neck, scratching up his back too as you tongue-fucked him. Your lipstick smeared all over his lips, a blue-scarlet dark as blood.

You pulled back, wiping the back of your hand over your back and seeing red.

Then you wrapped your hands around his throat and closed in on his blood supply.

“Touch yourself.”

Jungkook gasped, whined, and reached for his abused cock, slowly stroking the length as you toyed with his blood flow. Tighter. Letting him have a breath before pressing on the sides of his neck once again, and from your shoulder blades the prickling began, a nebulous want surfacing as you choked him and watched him stumble towards orgasm. Closer. The pad of his thumb grazed over the dripping opening of the head and his entire body flinched, writhing, his Adam’s apple straining against the underside of your thumb.

You released him and dove down.

Almost burned your knees from your speed. It required an almost uncomfortable folding of your body, but none of that mattered as you descended, closer and closer, your tongue cupping the tip and sliding down. Immediately, Jungkook removed his hand, letting out a string of nonsensical moans that only intensified as your teeth closed in around the shaft. Deliberate, pulsing pressure. His cock throbbed in response, relishing in the attention as his familiar heavy scent penetrated your throat.

Possessiveness laced int your veins as you tasted him.

You forced your head down and took him all the way to the base. One hand on his thigh and the other locked around his balls. You pulled. You squeezed. You raked your nails over that soft, supple skin, and sucked him off in deep, expansive thrusts, filling your mouth over and over again. Until your muscles strained. Until your body shook with tension. Until he was half-crying, half-groaning to the ceiling, vibrating in your mouth. He came. You swallowed. And kept going. His body twisted and he begged to be let go and you ignored him, coaxing his softening cock to swell again. Despite your knees protesting, you kept going until you could tell he was about to orgasm again, and you pulled back.

Silent.

Wrapped your hand around his jerking, spit-covered cock, and pumped him hard. Intense. He was falling apart, shaking his head from side-to-side, and thrust his hips into your hand. You did not stop him. He came again, and cum began to pool, so you pressed his length back and let him continue, the hot milky streak streaming down your fingers. It was clearly uncomfortable.

He did not complain.

You closed the distance as his head lolled back, whispering to his face as you casually wiped your wet hand onto his shuddering chest.

“Something for you to keep close to your heart as you work for me.”

With the same hand you gripped him by the hair, stilling him, tasting his erratic breath, and you found yourself entranced. Strands of black stuck to his forehead and against the leather blindfold. His cheeks flushed pink with effort, hollowing slightly with each heavy pant. His lips swollen and covered in red lipstick. His tan skin gleaming with sweat. The muscles of his neck and chest tensed, reddened from your scratches, and he was.

Was…?

You opened your mouth, but all you could think was how beautiful and perfect he looked just like this.

You released him and caught his jaw with your palms, pulling him towards you.

“I am your only one. Don’t you dare desire anyone but me,” you hissed, and then kissed him deeply, suffocating any response he had.

“Open this fucking door!”

He didn’t bother using his knuckles. Min Yoongi used the heel of his palm, slamming it against the heavy wood door. The zippers of his leather jacket flapped with weighty clinks. The security guard behind him bristled. They hadn’t wanted to let him in. He hadn’t cared. He growled under his breath and narrowed his eyes, glaring over his shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

Despite his professionalism, the guard let some of his distaste show in his face. It quickly disappeared, but Yoongi flung his arm anyway, making him take a step back.

“I told you to fuck off,” he snapped. “Let me talk to my sister alone, prick.”

There was some hesitation, and then the guard stepped away with his line of vision travelling upwards. Yoongi’s eyes followed, seeing the round lens of a small camera perched high above. He snorted. Instead of bowing to him as one would to the other guests, the guard simply kept his eyes on him as he backed up, as if Yoongi was a delinquent off the street and not a filthy rich grown man. Asshole. He quickly turned back around, his messy dark orange hair swinging by his eyes. He didn’t care about that. Under the leather jacket, he wore a white t-shirt with a monochrome graffiti print and torn slate-blue jeans. A suitcase of his stuff had appeared after the first night. He hadn’t questioned it. It was obvious his stepsister had brought it somehow. He kicked the door with his black boot in frustration and was disappointed that he hadn’t left a dent.

It opened.

There was a faint click and the heavy wood swung open so fast that Yoongi stumbled back, surprised at the abruptness, and then the stern glare of his stepsister was directed right at him.

An icy itch skittered down his spine, prickling at his vertebrae.

She was backlit from the back wall of windows. The sun was lowering, turning her outline a ghostly orange. The sleeves of her gunmetal silk blouse were folded back to her elbows. Her sharp eyes glanced past him, presumably to the retreating back of the security guard. Her tight pleather pencil skirt caught the light, accentuating her hips. But what Yoongi noticed was her face. Her smokey eye makeup was intact.

Her lips, although flushed dark mauve, were bare.

Her hair was swept up, but there was something off about it. As if the intentionally messy strands framing her face were not intentional after all.

“Hello, brother.”

Her voice was crisp. Almost icy. His brows furrowed. She smiled at him, with the same hospitality as a snake would greet a rat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Yoongi hissed.

She did not invite him into the office. He could see the grand room behind her. Dark wallpapered walls, large solid wood desk, high backed black leather chair. Locked cabinets along the walls. He didn’t know what they were for and he didn’t care.

Her eyebrow raised. “Working. I assume you’re familiar with the concept.”

He scowled. "Why do you even bother working? Your mother put you up to this?"

A hostility darkened over her features so quickly that he involuntarily flinched, preparing for her to strike him. But it was gone as soon as he saw it, causing him to question if it was ever there at all. She answered him with a small, soulless smile.

"People depend on me for their livelihood."

He snorted in disbelief.

His stepsister’s gaze sharpened.

"I am immoral, not unjust," she coldly stated, dropping the façade.

Before Yoongi could say anything more, he noticed the looming darkness falling into her shadow. Recognition burned through him like hot fire.

“You,” he spat, locking eyes with those black-brown ones looking down at him from under the black cap. He knew that face. From the hotel room back then. Sharp jaw, broad chest, younger than him, and the disapproving look of seeing something he would rather not. “You bastard. The fuck you doing here?”

A flutter of satisfaction gleamed from those shaded eyes.

“He works for me.”

For some reason, intense anger flared through his ribs, seeping into the depths. Oh, he heard what she said. Yoongi glanced from his stepsister to the security guard. She regarded him with head held high. Unfazed. The guard stood behind her, but there was a possessiveness in his stance. Hands behind his back. Yoongi slowly looked back to her.

Inhaled.

A whiff of her sharp, decadent perfume.

And sex.

Yoongi curled his hands into fists.

He had spent days in her condo. Sleeping away the daylight and rising at night. Tangling his fingers into her hair, pulling her down to his level, his blunt nails carving half-moons into her skin. Constantly seeing the black paintings on the walls while knowing what was behind them. Somewhere between dying and living, feeling like shit when he was alone and losing himself in aching bliss of her tightness. And now this. This. Right in front of his face. The rage seared tension into his muscles, the bites and bruises on his skin still tingling with soreness, and the corner of the guard’s lips raised, so slightly that maybe Yoongi was imagining it, but nonetheless the snarl in his chest bubbled upwards.

His hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder, yanking hard to push her aside as he raised his other fist to the face of the man behind her.

She let go of the door and caught his hand in the air, stopping him.

He put his shoulder into it but his stepsister dug her stiletto heel into the hardwood floor and shoved back against him, knocking him out of the momentum. Yoongi whipped his head to her, so fast that his hair lashed him in the cheekbone.

Her lips pursed. “You hit him; he sues me for workplace violence.” She moved slightly more in front of the guard, blocking Yoongi’s path. “Don’t make trouble.”

He stared at her.

And suddenly it hit him all at once. All those times his father not only directly beat him down, but every snide remark that chipped away at his wholeness. Every adult in his life seeing him as a hopeless problem, polite enough to not piss off his father but otherwise ignoring his existence, feeding his inner worthlessness with every avoided eye contact, every step back, every look the other way. And then, her. Her, flitting just out of his father’s grip. Her, sending those sneaking glimpses his way and making him uncomfortable with the attention. Her, whispering against his lips, hot and alluring, so stop yourself, her, coiling around him in the dark, soft skin, lush hips, wicked tongue all around him, her, his stepsister he now knew that was tortured by nightmares from a past that would kill most people. And now Yoongi in front of her, her pointed stare slicing through him as she stood in front of this other man, both of them reeking of sex, and the only one inherently wrong was himself.

The sun was sinking fast. Night bled into the red-orange sky, turning it purple and bruised.

Don’t make trouble.

She might as well have driven a hot knife in between his ribs, right into his beating heart, and twisted it.

Yoongi took a step back, his expression frozen into indifference.

Something changed in her face.

But he didn’t spare any time to figure it out. Yoongi simply turned, and did what he did best. It was how it always was, in the end. It was what it always was. Pointless. Pointless to fight against everything his father said he was. Not aiming high enough. Never good enough. A disgrace. He could not outrun his fate, but Yoongi did what he did best and he ran, ran down the hall, down all those stairs, out of the building, onto the streets, into the bleeding sunset with a sinking void in his chest and blurred wetness stinging at the edges of his vision.

He ran.

He had asked before if she was fucking that security guard. She said that she was. At the time, he hadn’t thought he cared. He didn’t. It was futile to give a shit. She was a whore. He always said she was a whore. It would be easier if she was a whore. But he saw the way she stood in front of that man, even if she didn’t notice. He saw the way that guard stoically stayed in her shadow, protecting something he couldn’t.

Never could.

Min Yoongi ran and ran and ran until his legs collapsed.

masterpost

#bts smut #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #misfit toys au

157 notes · View notes

hrtwayne · 4 months ago

Text

The Doctor and the Monster || Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Doctor!Wednesday Addams x Werewolf!Reader (The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr AU!

Summary: Where Wednesday finds an injured blonde-haired girl in the halls of Nevermore!

Note: In this chapter, Wednesday's personality has been altered for better understanding. (English is not my first language!!)

Warning: Mentions of blood, mentions of betrayal, and a pre-established relationship!

MASTERLIST

Dr. Addams was a physician of a reserved demeanor, never graced by a smile, cold, measured, and timid in speech, withdrawn in feeling; slender but not overly tall, dusty, somber, yet somehow appeared endearing—why, no one could quite explain. At social gatherings, when the wine happened to please her taste, a faintly human spark would ignite in her dark eyes—a light that never found its way to her lips, but one that spoke volumes in its silent language, hinting at depths unseen in her actions. She was strict with herself and, when alone, would drink gin to dull the lingering taste of wine.

Occasionally, she marveled, almost enviously, at the immense pressure the drink seemed to exert on her unvoiced sins. And in extreme cases, she leaned more towards assisting rather than condemning.

Regarding her character, she often found herself the last respectable acquaintance and the final positive influence in the lives of the fallen. Yet, those who stepped into her office never saw even a shadow of change in her composed and detached behavior.

Undoubtedly, it was no grand feat for Dr. Addams. Reserved to the extreme, her friendship seemed to stem from a similarly modest yet liberal kindness. Hers was the mark of a humble woman, enviable despite holding numerous accolades and recognition for her willingness to help those in need.

Walking through the corridors of Nevermore Academy, while the chill of Edinburgh’s high streets bit at her pale cheeks, Wednesday Addams seemed more silent and reflective than usual. Typically, her stern expression alone was enough to instill fear in her students.

The Addams family name carried significant weight in the bustling streets of Edinburgh, known for producing doctors, businessmen, engineers, and even governors. It was not difficult to recognize those raven-black locks, as dark as a starless night, paired with an indescribable beauty.

Her stormy eyes wandered the hallways until a loud noise near the main room caught her attention. The brunette placed a hand on the door, only to find her best friend’s older sister slumped against the wall, a deep gash on her abdomen and claw marks marring her arm. The blonde looked visibly distressed, writhing in unbearable pain. Without hesitation, Wednesday’s arms encircled her waist, guiding her to sit on a wooden table.

"Why am I not surprised to find you covered in blood?" Wednesday questioned, retrieving her first-aid kit. "Raise your arms. I need to remove your shirt."

"If you wanted me undressed, all you had to do was ask, Addams," you teased, your thick Scottish accent making her roll her eyes as she pressed on the wound. "Ow! I was kidding!"

"Be quiet, will you?" she replied, watching you pout.

Her cold hands reached for saline solution and gauze as she leaned closer for a better view. Your abdomen was soaked with bright red blood, and you closed your eyes, leaning your head against the white wall behind you.

Wednesday Addams was not one to show emotion, but seeing you in such a state caused her chest to tighten and bile to rise in her throat. Your teary blue eyes only made her more meticulous as she cleaned the wound, handling you with more care than usual. In a few minutes, the bandages were done, and the painkillers had taken effect, leaving you drowsy. Although your werewolf abilities were usually reliable, they seemed to have abandoned you that night.

Later that evening, Dr. Addams brought you to her apartment with a grim determination. She laid you in her bed, your arms still wrapped tightly around her waist. With a deep sigh, she attempted to compose herself before heading to take a shower, hoping to steady her nerves.

"Who hurt you like this, mon loup?" she whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

A faint sigh escaped her lips as she watched you sleep peacefully, subdued by the medication.

She would find whoever had hurt the blonde-haired girl and make them pay in the most excruciating way imaginable.

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #fem reader #reader insert #gxg #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #headcanons #imagine #oneshot

103 notes · View notes

mythorhuman · 7 months ago

Text

Scream For Me

In the small town of Mystic Falls, shadows danced ominously beneath the pale moonlight, weaving a tapestry of ghostly shapes across the streets. Bonnie Bennett stood at the center of her turmoil. A powerful witch from a long lineage of magical practitioners, she felt the heavy burden of her heritage pressing upon her shoulders. Though she had always taken great care to conceal her gifts, she still always found herself in the middle of some danger to protect a loved one. She knew her ancestors wouldn't approve of her use of magic to help the vampire species, and they wouldn't approve of the man she loved.

Klaus Mikaelson, her boyfriend, was far from ordinary; he was the Original Hybrid, caught in a tumultuous battle between his inner darkness and the light that Bonnie embodied. Their love was strong like an inferno, igniting the air around them. However, lurking in the shadows was Kai Parker, a bitter and envious siphon witch whose resentment toward Bonnie simmered just beneath the surface. Cloaked in jealousy, he had woven himself into the darkness, adopting the sinister guise of Ghostface, his heart set on siphoning the very magic that made Bonnie extraordinary.

One fateful night, as the Halloween festivities began, Kai struck. Dressed in a chilling mask and flowing cloak, he approached Bonnie's backyard, where the flicker of candlelight illuminated her focused expression as she practiced an intricate spell. “Hello, Bonster,” he taunted, his voice dripping with venom and dark amusement. “Let’s see just how powerful you really are.”

Startled, Bonnie turned to face him, recognizing the familiar aura of magic swirling around him. “Kai, you don’t have to do this! We can help you!”

But he only laughed, the sound echoing ominously in the darkness. With a wave of his hand, tendrils of energy lashed out, binding Bonnie’s hands. She fought back, summoning her own magic, but Kai’s jealousy fueled his power, and she felt her strength begin to wane.

Just then, Klaus emerged from the shadows, his instincts kicking in at the sight of Bonnie in danger. “Malachai! Let her go!” he shouted, his voice a deep growl.

Kai’s laughter turned to fury. “You think you can save her? You’re just as much a monster as I am!”

With a burst of supernatural speed, Klaus lunged at Kai, the two combatants clashing in a flurry of power. Energy crackled between them as Klaus, with his vampire strength, pushed Kai back. But Kai was relentless, using dark spells to attack Klaus from all sides.

Bonnie struggled against her bonds, watching the fight unfold with growing dread. She could feel her magic being drained, her essence slipping away. “Klaus!” she cried out, her voice breaking.

Fueled by her desperation, Klaus found a new surge of strength. He knocked Kai to the ground, pinning him with a fierce glare. “You’re going to regret this,” he hissed. In a swift motion, Klaus sank his fangs into Kai’s neck, draining him of his lifeblood. The look of shock on Kai’s face was one of betrayal, but Klaus was unyielding, fueled by the need to protect Bonnie at all costs.

As Kai’s body went limp, Klaus turned to Bonnie, the victory bittersweet. She rushed to him, her hands trembling. “Are you okay?”

But as she looked at him, horror dawned on her. “You… you were in on it. You and Kai—”

“No!” Klaus interrupted panic in his eyes. “I didn’t want this! I was trying to protect you!”

Bonnie’s heart raced, torn between love and the truth. She had seen the chaos and destruction that followed in the wake of Klaus and Kai’s actions, the lives lost to their dark games. “How many people have died because of you?”

“None of it was meant to hurt you,” he pleaded, stepping closer. “I love you, Bonnie. That’s all that matters. We can keep this between us. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Bonnie felt the warmth of his words and the weight of her own power swirling within her. “You killed him,” she whispered, fear and love colliding in her chest. But deep down, she recognized the depth of their bond. “If I promise to keep your secret, you have to promise to never let anyone hurt me again. No more dark games, Klaus.”

He nodded, desperation shining in his eyes. “I swear it.”

Bonnie gazed deeply into Klaus’ eyes, searching for the essence of the man she had once fallen head over heels for. As she searched, she noticed the flicker of vulnerability that danced behind his usually steely gaze, a hint of desperation that tugged at her heartstrings. Despite the horror that had unfolded between them, she couldn’t suppress the undeniable connection that still sparked between them like electricity in the air.

“Nik,” she whispered, her voice trembling with unspoken fears, barely above a breath. “I don’t want to lose you.” The raw honesty in her words hung heavily in the space between them, laden with the weight of unexpressed feelings.

In a moment of unexpected tenderness, she reached up, her fingers brushing gently against his cheek as she tucked a curly strand of hair away from his face. The softness of her touch ignited an immediate spark. Klaus leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers.

“You won’t lose me,” he vowed, his voice low and earnest, each word steeped in an intensity that made her heart race.

Then, as if time itself had paused to witness the moment, Klaus closed the distance that had felt like an insurmountable chasm. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle collision that held both tenderness and an underlying urgency. The kiss spoke of the flickering hope that still refused to be extinguished by darkness.

Bonnie melted into him, the outside world fading away, her worries and fears momentarily forgotten. In that intense embrace, she surrendered herself completely, losing track of everything but the warmth of Klaus’ body against hers and the promise of what their connection could still hold. The kiss deepened, becoming a delicate yet fervent exchange, as they sealed their fates together for eternity.

#bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #klonnie #klonnie mischief

64 notes · View notes

awkward-tension-art · 1 year ago

Text

Darkess on Umbara Chp.13 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 12. Epilogue

Carnage Of Krell

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Canon character death, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Grief, betrayal, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

You abandoned the title of healer in order to pursue vengeance. It went against your oath. You were supposed to save lives, not end them.

But monsters shouldn’t be saved.

Which is why you joined the squad. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Kix, Tup, and other troopers of both the 501st and the 212th. Everyone around you wanted justice.

“What I'm proposing is highly treasonous,” Captain Rex stood in front of you, speaking with authority, “If any man chooses to opt out do it now,”

Everyone remained silent but stepped forward, heads held high.

“From this point forward we are entering uncharted territory,” The captain emphasized, “my orders are to arrest General Krell for treason against the Republic!”

You followed his lead. Pistol in hand, senses sharp, and focus hardened. Your gaze met the man you love, and you hoped he understood.

I’d follow you into Hell, Rex.

Every step to the airbase had a purpose. Every soldier was geared-up and ready to take down the ruthless Jedi. Jesse and Fives were freed and given their own rifles.

The ARC trooper looked especially determined to arrest Krell. It would only be fair that he was the one to toss the former General into a cell. You were just happy to be helping him achieve such a thing.

With your pistol loaded and ready, you kept your eyes forward as the doors opened to the top floor of the tower. Soldiers filled in, surrounding the Jedi. He didn;t seem bothered, simply staring out the window over the dark landscape.

You followed Fives, deciding to keep out of Rex’s way as he walked forward, “General Krell, you're being relieved of duty.”

The besalisk turned slowly, keeping his hands behind his back, “It's treason then,” He growled.

Rex aimed his pistols, keeping his voice steady but commanding, “Surrender General.” The other soldiers shifted with their leaders' movements. Everyone was primed, ready to strike.

Krell’s steps were slow and deliberate as he walked forward before stopping, “You're committing mutiny, captain.” He sounded so…uninterested in the situation at hand.

Tup and Kix moved from their spots to keep their rifles pointed at the devious generals back. They remained firm and determined, fingers on the triggers of their guns.

“Explain your actions,” the captain of the 501st snarled. They deserved an explanation for everything.

“My actions?”

“For ordering your troops against one another!” Rex snapped.

Krell seemed smug, “Oh…That,” His tone was clearly that of someone who was bored with the topic, “I’m surprised you were able to figure it out. For a clone.” He spat the last word.

Fives motioned to the squad and they moved, taking two steps closer to the former general. Yet, he still seemed unbothered.

“Surrender, General.” Captain Rex commanded, You’re out number-”

Krell stomped forward with one foot and shot all four arms out. He used the Force to shove everyone back.

You slammed into the wall, knocking the wind right out of your lungs. The other soldiers were in a similar state, but everyone recovered quickly. You began firing your pistol, aiming towards the corrupt Jedi. The other soldiers did the same, hoping to overwhelm him with the sheer number of blaster bolts.

“You dare to attack a jedi!” the besalisk shouted, twirling his now activated lightsabers. He moved with practiced skill, deflecting every shot.

Damnit! Not good!

He leapt forward, slashing down two soldiers. They collapsed, dying almost instantly from the power of the strike.

A 212th trooper rushed forward attempting to charge the bastard, but was swiftly cut down as well. His body was kicked forward, slamming into the wall, narrowly missing Rex.

“I will not be undermined,” Krell twirled his sabers, pausing his movements to glare at the 501st captain, “By creatures bred in some laboratory!” He turned swiftly, breaking the window of the tower and leaping down to the airbase below.

“Follow him!” Rex commanded.

He, and the other soldiers began to rush down to the ground floor, but you stopped. Most lightsaber strikes were instantly fatal, but you checked for a pulse from the troopers Krell cut down anyway.

Even if you craved vengeance, you were still a doctor.

No pulse. Nothing. For all of them.

Confirmed to be dead, you left them and followed the soldiers down. Your steps caught up, and you kept next to Fives as the clones gave chase. However, the small group had been stalled by Dogma stepping out from behind a starship.

“Hold it right there!” He demanded.

Rex pulled his pistols and aimed on the younger trooper, “Lower your weapon, Dogma.” His voice was steady and calm, hoping to talk down the clearly conflicted clone.

He shook his head, “I can’t do that, sir!”

“That's an order!”

“It's my duty!” Dogma aimed his rifle at Jesse, then you, then Fives, “You’re all traitors!”

Your lover lowered one of his pistols and removed his helmet to speak, “I used to believe that being a good soldier meant doing everything they told you, that's how they engineered us,” He looked over at you before staring right at Dogma, “But we're not droids. we're not programmed, you have to learn to make your own decisions, Dogma.”

Tup approached his batchmate before raising his own rifle on the panicked trooper. He kept calm, even when Dogma shifted and pointed his weapon directly at him, “Dogma, don’t do it.”

Thankfully, that's as far as Dogma went. He dropped his rifle and looked down. His turmoil was clear, even as he was tackled by other soldiers.

“Take him to the brig.” Rex commanded, putting his helmet back on, “Troopers, don’t let General Krell escape!”

The chase was on.

You remained out of the captain's way, pretty much attaching yourself to Fives. You’d defer to him if you weren’t able to stay close to your lover. Afterall, under your thirst for justice, you were still a doctor. A healer intended to protect and save, not fight and kill.

Krell broke something inside of you. You’ve abandoned your purpose, becoming a vengeful, angry shell of your former self. At least for now.

“I got you,” the ARC trooper spoke next to you as you both navigated the dense, black and red Umbaran jungle, “That's what you say when you take care of one of us,” His stepped over a glowing root, and you followed, “Since you’ve had all of us, let me have you this time. Follow my lead.”

“Thanks, Fives.” You responded, keeping your eyes forward. The land was covered in a gray fog, making it difficult to watch exactly where you were going.

“Anyone got anything?” Rex spoke lowly into his communicator.

“Negative, Captain. We lost him.” The soldier on the other end responded. However, after a second, the familiar sound of whirling lightsabers pierced through the communicator, “Wait! He’s too powerful!” Blaster shots echoed in the distance and the trooper cried in his com. You could also make out the distinct cruel laugh of the Jedi.

Fives knelt, focusing his scope, “He’s coming!” The ARC trooper warned.

There was a thick silence that fell over every soldier around you. It was only broken by more gleeful laughter from Krell, “You should have listened to the ARC trooper from the beginning, Captain.”

You got back-to-back with Fives, pistol raised and ready. That damn Jedi’s voice seemed to come from every direction.

“He was right, I was using you.” More laughter from that bastard. Krell leapt from the branches above you and landed on top of a group of clones. His large foot crushed one of them, and his green lightsaber stabbed through another. He activated his blue saber and twirled the lethal weapons, “You’ve all been my pawns!”

“Get him!”

The corrupt General began laughing again as he was shot at. Unbothered by the blaster bolts, he dashed forward, cutting down the closest clone. He turned, slashing two others, sending them to their graves.

You and the other soldiers continued to fire, hoping to find a way to get past the defense of his double-ended blades. He stepped forward, spinning his weapons, blocking every shot aimed towards him. Without even looking he managed to kill three more clones.

This was a game to him. You realized with horror. He was having fun.

Something, the Force, wrapped around your body, restraining you. Krell had an open hand raised, laughing cruelly. You tried to aim your pistol only to fail, “You’ve fascinated me, Doctor.” He taunted before throwing you. Your back slammed into a tree, ripping a groan from your throat, “What do you see in these…inferior creatures?”

One of his large feet slammed next to you, the tip of his green lightsaber was level with your throat. Your pistol had fallen out of your reach when he threw you, leaving you unable to defend yourself.

“Bastard!” You spat. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Fives trembling in rage and Rex damn near frozen in terror.

No pistol, but you had an idea. Your hand reached into one of your packs and wrapped around one of your surgical tools.

Krell didn’t seem very interested. He continued to use his blue lightsaber to deflect the blaster bolts as he stood over you, “That didn’t answer my question, Doctor.”

Your eyes glared up at him, “These soldiers are better men than you ever were!” In a surprisingly quick movement, you brandished your laser scalpel and stabbed his foot with it. You took a sick sense of satisfaction hearing him yelp in pain.

“Ingrate!” He shouted, leaping back to defend himself from the barrage of blaster shots. The Force restrained you again, and the Jedi threw you. Your body hit the hard plastoid of a soldier's chest plate as someone caught you. However, they remained standing, wrapping one arm around you and keeping you up as well. Once you got your bearings, you looked up to Rex holding you with one arm as he fired his pistol with the other.

“Hi.” You greeted him sweetly, “Thank you, for catching me.”

Now wasn’t the time, but…Damn, you really loved this man.

You felt his grip on you become tighter. He was shaking, ever so slightly, but remained focused.

Krell Jumped forward, grabbing another soldier. The 501st trooper cried out in panic before being raised in the air and brought down on the general’s knee. The snap was audible and loud. To add insult to injury, he threw the trooper to the side like trash.

Dead? Most likely. I need to check.

You broke away from your lover and ran to the trooper. Feeling for a pulse, you found nothing.

His name was Faux.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. Forty. Thrall. Hardcase. Uno. Barr. Filter. Faux.

You looked up just in time to watch Krell throw Tup deeper into the dense, dark jungle. Without thinking, you sprinted in that direction, hoping and praying your friend would be alright. Your steps slowed when you saw him get up and raise a hand to stop you.

Behind him, the tendrils of a fanged beast underground waved around. The bioluminescence of its mouth was rather distinct. Tup saved Dogma from one of these earlier.

“Are you ok?” You asked him, taking slow and deliberate steps towards him. That beast scared you.

“I have an idea.” was his response to you. Tup got to his feet and activated his comm, “Captain Rex, this is Tup. if you can, force the General towards me.”

Rex’s confusion was apparent over the comm, “What? Why?”

“Trust me, Sir!”

With Tup’s certainty, you stepped a wide circle around the Umbaran creature, getting to his side. You had no idea what he was thinking, but you hoped it worked.

You really couldn’t handle losing another friend.

After a moment, Rex commanded through the communicator, “Troopers, listen up. Circle around, lure him towards Tup!”

“Tup…” You followed him, making sure to watch where you placed your feet. Your laser scalpel was warm in your hand, prepared to use it to fight that damn beast under the ground if need be, “Can I at least get a heads up before you get yourself killed?”

His rifle was tight in his hands as he watched the battle in the distance. Through the fog and darkness, you could make out the bodies of soldiers running past Krell, towards your location. Tup fired his blaster once he spotted the corrupt jedi.

The former General skidded to a stop and whirled to face him. The trooper shouted, ticking him off even more, “Hey ugly! Come and get us!”

“Tup!” You stepped back, raising your small weapon. Mentally, you calculated how fast you’d have to get the fuck away from the deraged besalisk.

Krell sprinted at the both of you. His sick smile became more and more clear as he approached. His lightsabers were activated at his side, prepared to kill the both of you.

Tup didn’t move. He lowered his blaster and tensed, lowering his head.

Was he trying to get himself killed!?

You took a step forward, hoping maybe you could tackle him out of the way before Krell got to him. However, it turned out that you didn’t need to worry.

The Umbaran beast lashed its tendrils out, grabbing the Jedi and swinging him in the air. He cried out and grunted, waving his lightsabers around, trying to get the creature to drop him. His blades managed to sever the creature's tongue, sending the damn thing into a frenzy.

Tup you absolute genius!

Krell was thrown to the ground before getting picked up again. His green lightsaber slipped from his large hands and you dove down to grab it. Sadly, he still had his blue saber, which he used to kill two other troopers.

Despite the disorientation, the Jedi proved to be a great warrior, managing to keep an eye on his surroundings. The soldiers had regrouped, firing their blasters at him, only to have their shots continuously deflected. The beast waved the besalisk around, giving him the chance to slice off the calf of a 212th trooper.

Instantly cauterized. Pain management will be key. Calm him before he goes into shock.

Your instincts kicked in. You were a doctor, damnit! Abandoning your drive for vengeance, you skidded to the troopers side, immediately tending to him. The painkillers were in his system before he could fully process what happened.

The sound of a lightsaber slicing followed by a thump and a groan filled your ears. You looked up fast enough to watch Tup fire a stun bolt on the besalisk. Krell let out a choked growl before collapsing on the ground.

“I stunned him, sir.” Tup sounded triumphant.

Rex kicked the Jedi rolling him on his back, “Nice work, Tup.” He nodded to the younger trooper.

Fives and Jesse got cuffs on the bastard, ending the fight then and there.

“Get the fucker in the brig.” Your lover spat, “Drag him if you have to.”

It didn’t take long to return to the air base. Krell hadn’t managed to run far, so even with his unconscious body and the injured, you all managed to return before he even woke up.

You wanted to be there when he did, though. So you asked Jesse to inform you when the Jedi opened his eyes. It gave you enough time to help any injured that survived the lightsaber wounds.

Not many. You noticed bitterly. Krell killed too many good soldiers.

You were putting one more trooper to his permanent rest when you got the com. You left the injured with Kix and left the medical bay. Rex, Fives and Jesse were at the tower by the time you and Tup both arrived. Wordlessly, all of you went down to the air base prisons.

Dogma scrambled to his feet, seeing the captain again. Regret and shame was clear on the trooper, as he kept his gaze downward.

The Jedi was seated on the floor as if meditating. As soon as he heard you come down the lift, he raised his head and snarled.

“Why, General?” Rex spoke first, approaching the cell, “Why kill your own men?”

Krell chuckled darkly as he stood, “Because I can.” His voice was smug, and full of ego, “Because you fell for it. Because you're inferior.”

“But you’re a Jedi! How could you?”

“A Jedi?” The former general laughed again, “I am no longer naive enough to be a Jedi,” His words dripped with hate and venom as he spoke, “A new power is rising, I’ve foreseen it. The Jedi are going to lose this war and the Republic will be ripped apart from the inside,” Even from a distance, the darkness inside of him was clear in every word, “In its place is going to rise a new order and I will rule as part of it!”

You turned, sharing a look with Jesse before staring back at the former Jedi.

Rex growled, “You’re a Separatist.”

Krell shook his head and stood tall, looking down at everyone in the room, “I serve no one's side. Only my own, and soon, my new master.”

Master?

“You’re an agent of Dooku.” Your lover stepped forward, keeping his hate filled gaze on the disgraced general.

“Not yet, but when I get out of here, I will be.” The fallen Jedi sounded certain in his words, “after I've succeeded in driving the Republic from Umbara the Count will reward my actions and make me his new apprentice.”

Dogma cried out from his cell, “How could you do this? You had my trust! My loyalty!” Even through the barrier keeping him in, you could see his eyes, glossy with tears, “I followed all of your orders, and you made me kill my brothers!”

You honestly felt bad for the poor trooper. He really thought he was doing the right thing.

“That’s because you were the biggest fool of them all, Dogma!” Krell cruelly laughed at the distressed soldier, “I counted on blind loyalty like yours to make my plan succeed!”

“Fucking bastard!” You spat, “That will never happen!”

“You’re a traitor, General, and you will be dealt with as one.” Rex seethed, keeping eye contact with Krell.

“You never learn, Captain.” He sounded smug as he turned and sat back down, “The Umbarans are going to retake this base, and when they do, I will be free.” The besalisk lowered his head and closed his eyes, as if meditating again.

The conversation was over.

“Sick, twisted fucking…” Fives crossed his arms and grumbled as you all got on the lift and raised out of the brig, “General Skywalker will want to punish Krell himself.”

“Agreed.” Jesse mumbled.

You stepped forward, taking a hold of Rex’s hand, “Cyare.” Your voice was soft, “It’ll be alright.”

He looked back at you, giving you a ghost of a smile.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jesse nudge Tup before whispering, “Don’t say a word to anyone about the captain and doctor.”

“Understood.”

“Good man.”

Once the doors to the outside opened, you were immediately greeted by Hana, “Captain,” She saluted Rex, “We’ve repaired the transmitter. It looks like it was sabotaged,” The trooper explained, “Despite that, we’ve received a message from General Kenobi. His forces have captured the capital, but the remaining Umbarans are heading here.”

Another battle…

“Get everyone on the perimeter! We need to prepare for a full scale attack!” The clone captain barked his orders.

“Yes sir!” Hana saluted before putting her helmet on and turning to rush off to do as he commanded.

Rex turned back, facing you and the others, “Krell sabotaged the transmitter. He's been against us from the beginning!” Everyone has been played for fools, and the clone captain was taking it especially hard.

Without pause, Fives spoke up first, clearly angry, “If the Umbarans get to him, he’ll turn over all our intel! The defense codes, everything!” The ARC trooper took a step back, motioning to the door you all had just walked through, “He’ll strike a crippling blow to the Republic!”

Jesse stepped up, “something has to be done! We can't risk the possibility that he might escape!”

“As long as Krell is alive, he is a threat to every one of us.” Tup reasoned, looking towards the Captain.

It was clear your lover was conflicted. Clones were made to serve the Jedi and the Republic. Killing their General, even as an act of justice, goes against their very creation. It wouldn’t be easy…

“Rex,” You abandoned protocol. Right now, you chose not to be the 501st field surgeon. You chose to be his cyare. You took his gloved hand and squeezed it, “He’s a traitor. One who has done irreparable harm to you and your brothers. If the Umbarans let him out, he’ll hurt even more people.”

You could see the conflict in his beautiful eyes. With a sigh he nodded, “I…agree.”

The five of you went back into the tower, lowering into the brig. Once there, Fives approached Dogma’s cell and opened it, getting him to his feet.

Rex stepped forward, keeping a steady glare on Krell, “Turn around, and step toward the wall.” He commanded, readied one of his pistols.

The former General rolled his small eyes and turned.

“On your knees.” Your lover growled.

Damn…not the time. But damn…

Jesse pressed a button on the console, opening the cell. Tup remained next to him, stock still.

The former Jedi chuckled darkly, turning his head slightly, “You’re in a position of power now. How does it feel?” He sneered.

“I said,” Rex steadied his pistol, aimed right at Krell’s back, “On. Your. Knees.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” The disgraced General taunted, voice smug and full of hate, “But I can sense your fear.”

There was a shift in Rex. Suddenly, he seemed uncertain, and even scared to a degree.

He’s trying to go against his very purpose.

Your eyes roamed over to Fives and the rifle on his hip. If Rex couldn’t pull the trigger, who would?

Could you?

“You’re shaking, aren’t you?” Krell continued to poke at the clones' anxiety, “What are you waiting for? The Umbarans are getting closer.”

The captain tried to steady his trembling aim, “I have to do this.”

What would happen to Rex if he did? Court martial? Arrested? Decommissioned? Would Kamino call for his mind to be wiped?

You took a subtle step towards Fives, hand slowly reaching for the rifle on his hip.

The fallen Jedi laughed, “You can’t do it, can you?” His fucking voice was smug and overconfident, “Eventually you’ll have to do the right thing and-”

In one swift movement, you slipped Fives’ rifle into your hands and pulled the trigger, ripping Pong Krell's life away.

He collapsed, choking on his last words and hitting the ground.

Save them. Protect them.

All of those Krell hurt and killed ran through your mind.

The 501st.

The 212th.

Your eyes met your lovers. Rex looked at you, surprised, fearful and devastated. You went against your purpose as a doctor. All so he didn’t have to.

You’d do it again. To protect him. Save him. For him.

Rex.

#reader insert #tcw x reader #captain rex #captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #clone trooper tup #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper jesse #arc trooper fives #pong krell #darkness on umbara #umbara arc #tcw x you #tcw rex #star wars x reader #star wars tcw

82 notes · View notes