#Slowly and slowly the Bad Memory could worn out.
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Cosette's accustoming to the convent school life.
Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.
#Les miserables#les mis#My Post#Cosette#The Lark#Convent Student#Jean Valjean#Father and daughter#Owl and Wren#Fauchelevent#Convent Family#Gardeners and a student#The Convent#Tw:PTSD#It's really good to see her mind slight changed during this period...#But this shows that she was still dealing with the abuse at the same time.#Slowly and slowly the Bad Memory could worn out.#But I don't think that she finally removed it from her mind.#And by the way. This is the final part of Volume 2!#We've already finished 2/5.#The Brick#Il cuore di Cosette#Les Mis Letters
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Crash Course in Love ⢠3
pairing: snowboard instructor!Jungkook x ex-gf!reader (feat. platonic OT6) genre: rom-com, Exes 2 Lovers, slow-burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: strong language, slow burn, angst, tension, bad communication skills, heartbreak, hangover, doubts, emotional rollercoaster, fight against nature, being stranded, crying, verbal fighting and screaming, explicit sexual content, bit of dry humping, fingering, scissoring, unprotected sex, breast play, hickeys, scratch marks, love bites, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 15.3k
a/n: i'm absolutely knackered now, completely worn out. BUT it was sooooo worth it lol hope y'all enjoy it to the fullest bc next update probably won't be until the new year...sooooo...have funnnn!
a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! đ
01 ⢠02 ⢠masterlist ⢠04
Day 4
âFuck.â
You think youâve woken up in hellâit must beâbecause, oh god, you feel like death. Your eyes are crusted shut, and you canât feel your legs. But as you rub the sleep out of your eyes and prop yourself up on your elbows, you realise itâs just Namjoon lying across them, snoring away.
You try to take in the room, piecing together the hazy puzzle of last night. The party, the song, you running off only to drown yourself with Yoongi and Namjoon in alcohol, throwing your own little after-party. You remember crying, remember singing your heart out to sad love songs blaring through Dionysus. What a fucking mess youâve becomeâŚ
But after all that chaos, thereâs only blackness. And seeing Yoongi and Namjoon still here with you in the suite, all of you fully dressed and reeking of alcohol, tells you enough. And as you groan, not just from the bottomless pit of stupidity, but from the pounding in your head, you let yourself collapse back onto your pillow.
You fight back another wave of tears, wishing the last 24 hours could just be erased, wishing you were back at home. You fumble blindly for your phone, finding it on the nightstand nearby.
2:56 p.m.
Just brilliant. Though, at least youâre spared from spending the whole day on the slopes. Not that youâd be able to walk straight with how youâre feeling, but a winâs a win.
You need to get up, though, so you start stirring both men awake. Yoongiâs not blocking you, but if youâre up, he has to be as well. Much to your surprise, both of them wake without protest, getting themselves into a sitting position on the bed, looking like zombies straight out of The Walking Dead. You reckon you look about the same.
âSorry,â Namjoon mumbles as you begin massaging some blood back into your legs, which feel like theyâre fighting for dear life.
âSâalright,â you croak out, unable to manage much more.
âPainkillers.â Yoongi just sits there, staring at his blanket, the rise and fall of his chest the only proof heâs still alive, though barely.
You and Namjoon both nod, but no one actually moves until, eventually, Namjoon risesâslowly, hands leaving the mattress only at the last second before he somehow straightens up and makes his way to the door, though itâs anything but a straight line.
Youâre the second to get up, staggering into the bathroom to wash off everything clinging to you. Youâre not sure if itâs just dried sweat or a bit of alcohol still on your skin, though you have a vague memory of Tae pouring something over your back. Either way, youâre in desperate need of a full shower to feel human again.
The only upside to this hangover is that your mind has finally shut up. Every bit of energy is focused on basic bodily functions, like breathing without throwing up and blinking your bloodshot eyes now and then. Youâre not even fazed when Yoongi stumbles in, taking a piss that seems to go on forever; he clearly couldnât give a fuck, and neither can you.
When youâve finished rinsing your hair and are wrapped in a towel thatâs too soft to absorb any actual moisture, you quietly switch places with Yoongi, both of you unintentionally making a point not to make eye contact.
Youâre not entirely sure why youâre still hereânot just in this town but on this entire trip. Thereâs no real drive left in you to give Jungkook closure, no fight in you at all, and definitely no desire to ever see him again.
So, you decide to get the hell out of here. Not right this second, no, your blood alcohol is likely still sky-high and will take a nosedive soon, taking you down with it, but tomorrow, youâre leaving. Itâs the healthiest thing you could do, because frankly, you lost Jungkook years ago, and that realisation sobers you up more than anything else could.Â
It doesnât stir the same emotions it once did as you pull Jungkookâs old hoodie out of your luggageâor maybe youâre just too tired to careâas you tug the oversized black fabric over your head, the only comfortable thing youâd brought on this trip. Some leggings on, with your phone stuffed into the front pocket of the hoodie, you make your way to the main area, letting your eyes roam to maybe spot your missing phone case.
Jungkookâs already lounging in a single armchair, poking absently at the fire with an iron stick, his gaze tracking you as you move around the room. But you ignore him. Itâs not like youâre being petty this time, and he can probably tell from your posture that youâre just not in the mood to interact at all.
Youâre especially glad he doesnât mention yourâor rather, hisâhoodie, and when you give up the search, realising the case isnât lying around here either, you shuffle over to the sofa, collapsing onto it and immediately pulling out your phone. Scrolling through YouTube, you pull the hoodieâs hood down a bit further to block out Jungkook entirely, settling on a spa video promising a very satisfying blackhead extraction.
If your lifeâs this miserable, youâre at least going to give yourself this kind of satisfaction, even if itâs short-lived. And anyway, there are millions of similar videos waiting for you and your lonely ass.Â
Namjoon emerges midway through your video, nudging your legs to make space for him. You shift, but only to let your legs settle in his lap as soon as he sits down.
âHere,â he offers, handing you two painkillers, which you take like theyâre sweets, chewing them up so they might kick in faster. He pulls a disgusted face, but it quickly fadesâprobably canât be bothered to waste any energy as well.Â
âJimin brought food,â Jungkook breaks the silence, still poking at the fire. âShould I get you some?â
Youâre not sure if heâs talking to you or Namjoon, but you answer anyway. âIâm good, thanks.â
Maybe he expected a different answer, as his stick pauses for a moment, but you couldnât care less. The chance to talk things out has passed, along with your will. Itâs on him now. Youâve seen and heard enough.
âWhy did you leave the party so early?â he tries again.
âIt was because of me, I justââ
You cut Namjoon off; he really doesnât need to do this for you. âStop lying, I wanted to leave, and Namjoon and Yoongi didnât want me to be alone.â
âWhy?â
You pause your video, turning to meet Jungkookâs eyes. Heâs bouncing his leg and chewing on his lip ring again, but itâs not your problem if heâs anxious or whatever. âNone of your business.â
Namjoon gives your knee a slight squeeze, and while Jungkook turns his attention back to the flames like youâre the one whoâs hurt him, he can go fuck himself. Youâre not dealing with him right now. Not when heâs got Hara pregnant and sings love songs for her.Â
Yoongi enters at that moment, settling into the armchair beside Jungkook and just managing to catch the two painkillers Namjoon tosses his way.
Silence returns, and you restart your video, losing yourself in the meditative extractions.
âCan I get a haaaawyeah?!â Tae bursts into the hostel, bringing Hope and Hara with him. Three of the four present groan in agony at the sudden noise, and youâre one of them. Still, you shift to sit up, making room for them to join.
Youâre not sure why Hara chooses to sit next to you, quietly handing over a takeaway box of food with that warm, familiar smile of hersâyou know itâs got to be from Jinâs.Â
âIâm not hungry,â you mumble, the bite you had a few minutes ago already feeling like it never had been there to begin with.
âPlease, eat something. Your body needs it.â
Sheâs right, but you canât bring yourself to even lift the lid, staring blankly at it as if itâll somehow reveal yet another surprise youâre not ready for. You know itâs not Haraâs fault youâre feeling like this, or that Jungkook chose her, but right now, all you can feel is bitterness, and her kindness only multiplies it.
Almost unconsciously, you glance up and find Jungkookâs eyes fixed on you, his leg still bouncing lightly, clearly tuned out from the lively conversation between the other guys.
Youâve kept this empty space in your heart reserved for him for so long, never realising heâd never fill it again. You just donât have the energy for this anymore, the will to keep playing his game where he pulls you back into his world only to remind you youâre no longer really part of it. Not properly.
You wonder if Jungkook even realises what heâs doing, if he has any clue about how his actions come across. Or maybe heâs just as stuck as you, caught up in his patterns and too blind to see beyond them. The care and worry in his eyes when he looks at you, when he notices you making poor choices for your healthâmaybe, you reason, itâs just because he doesnât know how to be any other way and nothing more.Â
But thatâs the thing about Jungkook: he genuinely cares. And thatâs why heâs going to be the best dad on this earthâjust not to your children.
âIâm really not hungry.â You think you see Jungkookâs jaw tick just a bit, but he again chooses to say nothing, his gaze, though, never wavering from you.
âI didnât mean to, but damn, that woman was something else,â Tae bursts, sprawled on the floor in front of you, accidentally nudging your knee as he laughs with the others.
âWho?â you ask, trying to tune into the conversation just to get away from the other.Â
âThat woman who was sitting by the bar all night. Tae pulled her,â Hope bursts out laughing, especially at your disgusted, shocked face.
âWas she any good?â Namjoon inquires, like itâs the most normal thing to ask about a one-night stand.
âWhat can I say? She taught me things I didnât even know existed.â
Yep, that infoâs enough to make you gag for real, and judging by Yoongi and Jungkookâs expressions, theyâre feeling the same.
âWant some?â you offer Yoongi the box, hoping to steer the conversation away fromâŚwhatever this is. But he just shakes his head, clearly not ready to risk upsetting his stomach as well.Â
Heâs pale as it is, and you can see the colour drain from his already bloodshot eyes at the sight of food. Poor man.Â
âJungkook, you hungry?â Hara offers softly, and you canât help but glance at him again.Â
His bouncing leg stills the instant she speaks to him. And even though itâs trueâJungkook can eat like a bottomless pit, never saying no to foodâyou donât really want to interact with him right now. But, some things havenât changed at all it seems, like you not being able to say no when it comes to him.Â
Jungkook looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes, as if to say just eat it yourselfâheâd never, like all those years ago, take food from you when itâs clear youâre barely eating yourself. But you just canât, and with that, you get up, lean over the small coffee table separating you both, and offer him the box with both hands, a small, shaky smile on your face.
Jungkook stands up too, reaching for the food between you. You think heâll just take it, but his hands cover yours, brushing over them until they settle on the container, and then, finally, he takes it. It catches you off guard, not just because he touched you first and not the box, but because it was absolutely deliberate.
Why he did it, you donât know, but all you can think about is getting away fast before all your bottled-up emotions explode in your face.
âCanâŚuhâŚcan someone drive me to the nearest petrol station?â you ask, standing there rooted to the spot, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment as everyone looks up at you.
Jungkookâs half a mind to put the box back on the table and get up again, but Hope springs up from his spot beside Taehyung, fishing his keys from his pocket. âIâve got you.â
âThanks, Iâll just get ready.â You cast him a quick, grateful look and head to your room, eyes down.
Hope just saved you there, because if Jungkook had offered to drive, you donât know what youâd have done. Sure, you want him to be happyâyouâre not some heartless person who wishes bad things on people, especially those who areâŚwereâŚclose to you.
 But what about your happiness? Donât you deserve to find peace too? To protect yourself? So yes, youâll take every bit of help you can get, even if itâs just a lift to the petrol station.
You didnât mean to startle so violently when you turned to close the suite door, but honestly, you hadnât even heard Hara following you, moving soundlessly like a ghost.
âCâŚcan I help you?â Youâre gripping the door until your knuckles turn white under your sweater paws, the door not even fully open anymore.
âCan I come in?â
Itâs like something out of a nightmare, knowing you canât turn her away just because Haraâs never done anything to hurt you. You have to remind yourself again and again that sheâs not the villain here, chanting it silently in your head, trying to drown out the hurt that wonât go away whenever you look at her.
So, you nod, opening the door a bit wider, then turn around to let her in and busy yourself with âlookingâ for your phone case, just so you donât have to face her.
âAre you okay?â
Her words break through the sound of the bedding as you give it a shake, hoping your case might fall out, but of course it doesnât. Just like the right answer isnât coming to you now, not to her question.
Maybe youâre okay, as okay as you can be. Maybe youâre not. Either way, youâre definitely not making her your therapistânot when sheâs involved in all this stupid mess.Â
âYeah, sure. Are you?â
âYeah, the sickness finally went away. I just hope I start to show soonâitâs getting weird at this point.â
You move around the room, checking every corner, stopping only when you spot an edge of your phone case outside on the porch, half-buried in the snow beside the jacuzzi.
âHow far along are you?â
âSeventeenth weekâŚweâll find out the gender soon.â Thereâs a subtle cheer in her voice that makes your heart soften for a moment.
It must be incredible to be expecting, especially to finally know the babyâs gender and go a bit mad with shopping. Youâre sure youâd be the same, and Hara likely will be, too.
You glance her way, offering a small, warm smile before opening the door to the porch. âGot a feeling what itâll be?â
Hara comes closer to the door as you step outside, staying in the warmth while leaning against the frame. âYes? No? Maybe?â She laughs. âSome days I swear itâs a boy, and then others Iâm convinced itâs a girl. Tomorrowâs the appointment, soâŚI hope mini-me reveals its gender and isnât shy.â
You giggle, fishing the icy case out of the snow and brushing off the clinging flakes. As you come back inside, Hara moves aside, settling herself on the edge of the bed while you grab a discarded shirt of Yoongiâs to dry the case off.
âHeyâŚuhâŚI donât quite know how to start this, butâŚI know youâre not doing alright.â
The glance you throw her way is wary rather than hostile, but still, you donât want a pep talk from her.
âPlease, just talk to each other.â
Biting your lip, you really donât want to say anything. Yes, you probably should talk to Jungkook, but then again, maybe you shouldnât. Heâs had countless chances to say something, to open up if he had any thoughts at allâand heâs used none of them. Not even when you broke up with him. He stayed silent, like he is now.
Maybe he just doesnât want to talk, not really, and youâre done waiting and being the one to start things.
âThereâs nothing left to talk about. But I appreciate your concern.â
Hara just nods, staring down at the floor, rubbing her hands together between her knees while you pull on your coat and tuck your phone safely into its case.
âItâs a nice case. Did you paint it yourself?â
You glance at your phone, rubbing your thumb over the faded paint that was once so bright. You couldnât bring yourself to get rid of it after the breakup, even though it reminds you of everything good about your time with Jungkook. Maybe thereâs some masochistic streak in you that wants to punish yourself for everything you did and didnât do. Maybe itâs time to let go of all the memories that keep pulling you back to a time thatâs long gone.
âNo.â You sigh, tucking it away in your coat pocket with your purse and heading to the door. You pause with your hand on the handle, checking to see if Haraâs following, which she is. Sheâs right behind you again, and this time, you just let out a startled scream internally, hoping you donât flinch too visibly.
Opening the door, you let her pass first, just to keep her in your sight this time, but as soon as youâre near the entrance to the main area, she stops, raising a hand. You give her a puzzled look, but she only points to one of her ears, so you lean in, trying to make out whatâs being said.
First, you catch the voices of Taehyung and Namjoon, Taehyungâs voice too loud and distinct not to notice. But when you listen a bit harder, you pick up Hope and Jungkook having a different conversation, probably a little further from the others.
âI know! I know youâre a good driver. JustâŚâ
âJust? Câmon, whatâs going on with you, C?â
âJust⌠take care of her, okay?â
âWhy wouldnât I? Youâre acting like Iâm some boy whoâs just got his licence and canât be trustedââ
The rustling of your coat drowns out the rest of their conversation as you step into the room, deciding not to eavesdrop any longer. You glance around briefly, and of course, Jungkookâs eyes find yours again, but you quickly turn towards Yoongi, resting your hands on his shoulders from behind where heâs still slouched on the one-seater. He wraps his hand around your wrist, his thumb gently brushing over your pulse.
âWhy was my case out in the snow?â you murmur into his ear, which earns a lazy laugh from him. He peeks over his shoulder at you, his voice still raspy from his hangover as he murmurs back.
âYou thought you could yeet it away and be done with it.â
Your cheeks go warm again; drunk-you is really ridiculous in every possible way. Youâre just grateful it was only Namjoon and Yoongi who saw your breakdown, and no one else.
âRight.â
âStay safe, yeah?â
He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze, and when your eyes meet again, even though his are still glassy from last nightâs antics, thereâs that quiet care in them only real family can have.Â
âI will. Thanks for being there for me, Yoongs.â You press a quick kiss to his head and give him a brief squeeze around his shoulders, only for him to dramatically fake his own demise.
Straightening up, you meet Hopeâs eyes, give him a quick nod, and head towards the door. Jungkook moves with the two of you, holding the door open without taking his eyes off you. His gaze is so intense that you canât keep eye contact, mumbling a quiet, hurried âthanksâ and âbyeâ as you follow Hope to his car.
You wouldnât have thought Hope would drive a brand-new car, especially a vibrant red one. You wonder if an equipment rental shop really makes that much of a profit or if everyone in this town is just batshit rich. At least youâll be safeâmuch safer than youâd be with Tony.
âSo, how longâs the drive?â you ask, taking in the carâs interior while buckling up in the passenger seat. You notice the soft leather under your bum and the chrome trim around the touchscreen on the console.
âMaybe twenty or thirty minutes, depends on whether the roads are clear or still covered in snow.â
You hum in acknowledgment, tucking your hands under your thighsânot only because theyâre still cold from the short walk outside, but also to avoid the urge to touch anything and risk breaking something youâd never be able to replace.
The carâs rolling down the steep hill you came from a few days ago in no time, and Hopeâs both hands are steady on the wheel, which helps you relax in your seat. Heâs definitely a good driver, like Yoongi, Jungkook, or your dadâthe kind you can actually relax around without fearing for your life.
âSoâŚwould you be a kind soul and tell me what youâre all talking about in that group chat, especially about me?â
Of course you had to askâwhy wouldnât you, now that youâre alone with someone whoâs clearly in on the whole scheme?
âSure, why wouldnât I?â
âDunnoâŚmaybe because of Namjoon.â
âOh, Iâm not scared of him.â Hope laughs heartily, but his eyes donât stray from the dark, snow-covered road ahead.
âSoooâŚ?â
âSo, you should just talk to C. Thatâs what weâre all talking about.â
âWow, wouldnât have thought of that.â
âSo whyâre you asking if thatâs not the answer you wanted?â
You fall silent.
âListen. You and C are both hurting. And the only way forward is for you both to learn how to communicate properly, aka talk to each other.â
âThereâs really nothing left to talk about.â
âWhyâs that?â
âHeâs clearly moved on, no?â
Like, duh.
âHas he now?â
Duh?âŚ
âYeah, with HaraâŚand the baby on its way.â
Were you wrong all this time? It canât be.
âOh, boyâŚâ
âDonât âoh boyâ me.â
âWhy do you think heâs with Hara?â
Youâre trying not to show how hard it is to think clearly in your state, but the time it takes you to respond says it all. âItâs obvious.â
âIs it? Because it sounds like youâre seeing things how you want to, not how they actually are.â
âRude.â
âItâs true.â
âYouâre really forward for someone I barely know.â
âWeâre not strangers, __.â Hope side-eyes you pointedly, making you scoot a tiny bit deeper into your seat.
âBasically, we are.â
âNo, weâre not friends yet, but weâre not strangers either.â
So what does this mean for you and Jungkook? Heâs not exactly a friend anymore, but heâs not a stranger either. OrâŚmaybe he is. God, your brain feels like itâs about to explode any minute now.
âPeople change, Hope. Jungkookâs changed.â
Hope lets a short silence settle between you, his fingers tapping softly against the leather wheel as if heâs thinking about what to say next. Only now do you realise thereâs no sound from the engine, and you clock that heâs driving an electric carâeven though he lives in the mountains, in the cold.
âHave you?â
Youâre half-tempted to just say yes, but is that really true? Youâre not sure. Maybe youâve matured a bit, but not enough to feel like a different person. What you do know for sure is that any growth you might have had stopped the moment you left Jungkook. Youâve been so caught up in trying to heal and be someone youâre not that you havenât really evolved into the person you could have been.
Anything reallyâmaybe a better person, but somehow still the same you. So, what have you become in the last few years? Are you the same? Or not quite?
âNot sure.â
Hope just nods, not as if heâs simply acknowledging what you said, but as if he already knew your answer. Itâs uncanny how much talking to him reminds you of Yoongi, both of them having that same no-bullshit approach.
âListen, Iâm not here to play mediator,â yep, definitely like Yoongi, ânor are the others. You need to talk to him, get things sorted before itâs too late.â
âWhat if itâs already too late?â
âI donât think so.â
âYouâre so positive.â You whine pathetically.Â
âAnd youâre a chronic pessimist.â He mimics you.Â
âIâm just cautious.â You pull your hands from under your thighs and throw them in the air, more to get your point across than anything.
âNo, youâre scared of what might never happen.â
Ouch. But heâs notâŚnot right.
âIâm not. Iâm doing snowboarding now, arenât I?â
âSo why are we heading to the nearest petrol station if youâre meant to be snowboarding all week?â
You shut your mouth and slide your hands back under your thighs, as if that might help you disappear. Maybe you werenât as subtle as you thought, and not only Hope but everyone elseâincluding Jungkookâhas seen right through you. Is that why Hara wanted to talk to you earlier? Urging you to finally talk to Jungkook?
âGotcha,â Hope giggles slightly, though when he sees your sad pout, he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze before returning his hand to the wheel.
âAlright, Iâm sorry if I hurt your feelings.â Okay, maybe not exactly like Yoongi. âBut from what Iâve seen and heard, you liked snowboarding. And Iâd say you probably enjoyed everything else youâve done before, too.â He glances over at you. âCorrect me if Iâm wrong.â
You just give a noncommittal shrug.
âYou need to trust yourself and your capabilities a bit more. Start having faith in the positive outcomes, not just the negative ones, yeah? Youâll never be able to live without fear if you overthink everythingâŚespecially things with Jungkook.â
Your pout deepens, a light sheen of tears coating your lashes, which you tell yourself are just from the hangover crashing down on you now, not from facing the uncomfortable truth of your very persona.Â
âI know itâs hard, ___. But sometimes thinking the worst makes it real, even though the outcome couldâve been different if youâd just had a bit more faith.â
âAre you talking about snowboarding or Jungkook?â
âBoth.â He giggles again, and you canât help but join in, sniffing your nose a little.
When just then another small town and the petrol station come into view, you straighten up in your seat, realising youâd been slouching more and more throughout the drive.
Even though youâre not looking forward to stepping outside into the cold, youâre glad for a bit of a cooldown, just to ease your exhaustion.
Hope parks his car right next to the petrol pump, and as soon as he turns it off, you both get out and head to the boot where two big empty canisters are waiting.
âHere, Iâll go to the one right behind this one.â He offers you one of the canisters, and while you take it, youâre still confused.
âI only need one, though.â
Heâs already unscrewed his, pumping petrol as he leans to the side to look at you.
âYeah, this oneâs for me.â
Youâre still confused, but you start filling your canister anyway.
âIsnât your car electric?â
âYeah, but I need emergency petrol for the generator in case thereâs an outage and the babyâs coming.â
You freeze. Is HopeâŚ? Oh god, you were so wrong all this time. Relief floods through you, so intense that tears spring to your eyes. Jungkookâs not the baby daddy.
âYouâre Haraâs baby daddy?â you squeak.
âGosh, no!â
And now you think you might throw up, the tears shifting back to the heartbreak of yesterday.
âAreum, my wife, sheâs seven months pregnant. You missed her yesterday with your epic escape.â
âOh. Uh, congratulations.â
But you only hear a snort from behind the pump.
Not wanting to fill the canister completely, you settle on half, afraid you might not have enough left in your bank account. Youâre not exactly broke, but youâre worried your employer hasnât transferred your pay on time. Again.
âIâm off to pay,â you mumble as you pass Hope and head into the small, warm station, where a young teenager plagued with acne stands behind the counter, his eyes barely lifting from his phone throughout your whole exchange.
âYour cardâs declined, miss.â
The remaining colour drains from your face at his words. This really canât be happening.
âCould youâŚcould you try again, please?â
The teenager just rolls his eyes, and if you werenât so mortified, youâd probably give him some shit for being so rude. But again, the familiar sound of your card being declined fills the little station, and when he hands your card back, you just mumble, âJust a second, please,â before stepping to the far corner by the cooling systems and getting your phone out.
And sure enough, your banking app shows youâre completely drained. Fuck. So thereâs only one option left, then.
âPick up, pick up, pick up.â
âYo,â Yoongi grumbles, and youâre pretty sure you can hear Jungkookâs panicked voice in the background, asking whatâs happened.
âI need your help,â you whisper, glancing over at the teenager to check if he can hear, but heâs already engrossed in his phone again.
âWhat do you need?â
âIâm short on cash. I canât payââ
âWhy?â
Yoongiâs tone isnât accusatory in the slightest, just genuinely surprised. Hope comes into the station now too, cocking a brow at you, which you try to ease with a shaky smile.
âMy employerâs late with my pay. Again. And the trip and, uhâŚit all justâŚâ
âIâm sorry,â Yoongi says, flat, almost monotone, but you know he feels awful now, realising youâre actually struggling, not just joking around. Itâs not his fault though; you never talk about money, and maybe heâs apologising not just because he let you pay for everything, but because you havenât had these conversations before.
âSâalright. Can you just transfer some money quickly so I canââ
âYeah.â
âThank you.â
You hear him sighâone that says, Donât make this a thing now. Hopeâs already paid for his, waiting by the door with his hands in his pockets, scanning some nearby magazines.
Knowing not to waste any more time, you hang up, open your banking app again, and refresh it every few seconds until there it is: a transfer of ten fucking thousand dollars from Yoongi, with the note, Shouldâve told me sooner.
You make a mental note to give him a piece of your mind regarding the sum later as you pay for the petrol, and dash out of the station, dragging Hope with you to escape the embarrassment as soon as possible.Â
âSlow down, will you?â
You let go of his arm once youâre by his car, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration as you mumble, âSorry. God, Iâm such a mess.â
âCome on, weâll talk in the car. I just wanna get home.â
And you do, silently, closing your eyes as the car winds through the woods back the way you came.
You know Hope doesnât want to pressure you, but you want to talk about it, just because bottling it up any longer would fry your brain.
âMy employer still hasnât transferred my pay,â you mumble. âI had to call Yoongi to borrow money.â
Hope lets out a long breath through his nose, shaking his head slowly as he listens.
âAgain, as in this isnât the first time?â
âYeah, as in he owes me several thousand dollars by now.â
âThousands?â
You tap your knuckle against the window, doing a quick mental tally of how much has piled up since you started working for this guy. âAbout fifty. Maybe a bit more.â
âNo. Fucking. Way.â Hope glances over at you with each word, then back to the road. â___, thatâs insane. Fifty thousand?! Why havenât you sued him? Or quit?â
âIâŚâ Yeah, good question. âI actually donât know.â
Itâs not like itâs a brilliant job worth hanging on to, but working from home has its perks, and finding another role in your field? Thatâs practically impossible without connections, which you definitely donât have, seeing as you work from home and have done for years.
âYouâre an accountant, yeah?â
âHow do you know?â you ask, stopping your gentle tapping against the window to look over at his profile.Â
âOh, who dâyou think told me?â He gives you a side-eye, looking slightly annoyed, and you just nod. âAreumâs an accountant too. She works for PwC, all remote. Theyâre looking for someone to cover her on maternity leave, and she gets to pick who fills in for her, sooooâŚâ
âSoooâŚ?â
âWoman, Iâm not spelling it out for you. Youâre not that thick.â
Ouch. âHey! Stop being so rude to me.â
âThen stop acting daft when youâre not.â
God, you want to strangle him. No wonder he gets along so well with Yoongi. You thought he was just this little ray of sunshine with that stupid bright laugh, but heâs feisty as hell.
âIâll think about it,â you mumble, knowing decisions like this arenât made right now, especially as the painkillers wear off and your mindâs about to shut down along with your eyelids.
Eventually, sleep takes over, and if youâre honest, you donât bother fighting it.
â___, wake up.â Hopeâs voice and the gentle push of his hand against your shoulder rouse you not long after. And even though sleeping, even just a bit, should have done you some good, you feel worse after a fifteen-minute nap.
Reluctantly, you straighten in your seat, trying to wake up properly, and smack your lips to get the awful taste off your tongue, but itâs no use. Youâll need to brush your teeth as soon as youâre in the suiteâthereâs no way around it.
âThanks for driving me,â you rasp, glancing out of the windscreen to see Jungkook hopping from one foot to the other in the cold, his breath rising in small clouds in front of him. âWhatâs he doing outside?â
âHeâs waiting for you.â
âOh.â
Itâs a mystery why Jungkook would do that, seeing as youâre clearly not on good terms. Youâve been trading jabs and whatnot with every interaction, so the fact that heâs not fed up by now is really baffling.
âIâm heading straight home if thatâs okay.â
âOh. Sure, yes, of course, sorry.â You unbuckle your seatbelt, knowing you shouldnât overstay your welcome, especially as Hope is snickering again. âThanks again and goodnight.â
âGoodnight. AndâŚtalk to him.â
Well, you donât really have a choice now. Especially when, after closing the passenger door, you walk to the boot to get your half-empty canister, only to find Jungkook already beside you.
âHere, let me help.â
He doesnât meet your eyes this time, which feels strange after he spent all afternoon staring at you.
âIâve got this.â
You heft the canister out of the boot and start walking straight to Tony to fill him up, letting the canister rest by your legs, you wave Hope off as he drives away, then clear the side of Tony of snow.
âWhat are you doing?â Jungkook stands beside you, arms crossed, chest puffed out. He looks intimidatingâhotly soâbut youâre still pissed and very much not in the mood for a chat.
âWhat does it look like?â
He just shrugs with a smirk, and as you finish clearing the snow, you realise youâve done the wrong side of Tony.Â
How embarrassing.
âDonât say anything.â
And he doesnât, aside from a quiet snicker as he follows you to the other side, where you finally start clearing the right bit of snow. This time, you find the cap and pull out your car keys to open it.
Ignoring your wishes, Jungkook picks up the canister and starts pouring the petrol into the car, biting his lip piercings again.
âTalk,â you snap, wanting to get this over withâwhatever it is thatâs bothering him so much heâs biting his lip bloody.
Jungkook glances briefly at you, and while youâve seen that sad expression on him countless times, it still stings.
âWhy did you leave?â
You sigh, glance towards the hostel, and look back at him. âWhen? When I broke up with you? On the slope yesterday? From the party? Or to the petrol station?â
Alright, it sounded cooler in your head, but youâre now realising you might have a bit of a tendency to run off. Oops.
âAll of them, I guess.â He muses, shutting the cap and screwing the canister lid back on as he turns to you fully.
âJungkook, thatâs a conversation Iâm not having with you right now.â
âAnd when would be the best time for it?â
âOh, I donât know. Maybe not outside, not in the middle of the night, not when Iâm batshit hungover, and especially not when youâve built a new life for yourself.â
That last bit wasnât really what you wanted to say, but it slipped out anyway, the perfect proof that itâs indeed not the best time.Â
âThatâs not fair.â
âItâs not fair for you to treat me like this, Jungkook. Iâm not doing this anymore.â
You turn while watching him run a hand through his hair, then stomp through the deep snow towards the hostel to stop yourself freezing out here.
âStop running away!â
âIâm not running away. Iâm going to bed. You should too.â
Jungkook catches the door at the last second and steps into Dionysus right behind you.
âYou are running away.â
You turn to face him sharply, causing him to nearly bulldoze into you, but he catches himself in time, stepping back a bit with his hands on his hips, still clutching the canister in his reddened hand.
âWhy did you need petrol for Tony, whoâs been out of it for days? Why now?â
You purse your lips, mirroring his stance instinctively, staring each other down. Youâre stubborn, but so is he, and youâre not backing down. He wants to start a fight? See who breaks first? See if youâre really running away from him? Well, youâll prove him wrong.
âSafety. Caution. Responsibility. Take your pick.â
Thereâs a familiar glint in his eyesâthe one that says he knows youâre bullshitting him. God, youâve missed this. Missed him.
âSo, not fleeing the scene, hm?â
âNot fleeing the scene.â
And youâre not. Change of plans: youâre staying. Youâll stay, and youâll whoop his ass by becoming the best snowboarder on the planet.
Jungkook just nods, and you nod back.
Usually, this would be the moment heâd tackle you and fuck the truth out of you in no time. And though you can vividly picture it, you need to keep your distance. So before the tension builds too much, before Jungkook becomes too much, you stop nodding and let your arms drop to your sides.
âGoodnight, Jungkook.â
He mirrors your stance, and though his eyes dim with that usual sadness, you refuse to see it as longing. Because why would he?
âGoodnight, ___.â
You nod, and while you canât quite tear yourself away from his gaze, you eventually turn and head up to your suite, finding Yoongi already silently and fast asleep, you canât help but to leave a tiny gap in the door, just enough to watch as Jungkook disappears into his own room.
Day 5
You feel good.
No, scratch thatâyou feel absolutely pumped, energised, and oh-so-ready for the day. Thereâs a wild fire blazing through your veins, just waiting to be unleashed, and youâre absolutely down for it.
Sitting alone in the dining room after that little talk with Yoongi about the sum he transferred to your bank account, only to be met with an eye roll in response, youâre busy preparing the most protein-packed breakfast Namjoonâs buffet has on offer. Youâll definitely need itânot just because your bodyâs craving nutrients, but because your brain needs to be at its best so you can finally beat Jungkook at his own game.
No, not with his petty remarks and actions, but by getting your answers with carefully placed, strategically even, questions so he doesnât even realise youâre grilling him. Youâre brilliant, so of course you can pull this off. The sulky victim era of ___ is overâhere comes the new, improved you.
Though, if youâre honest, you know thereâs a pretty decent chance that Jungkook might catch on to your plan. Heâs always been good at that, always been just as brilliant as you. But his competitive side usually has you beat by the end of the day. But not today. Today, youâre determined to win.
Especially when the man himself strolls in, looking sinfully good. His hairâs damp, falling messily over his forehead and eyes, while his thin white shirt hangs loosely off his shoulders, clinging slightly to his skin where he didnât dry off properly.
âMorning, Kook,â you chirp, practically singing it, intentionally calling him by the nickname you lovingly gave him all those years ago.
Jungkook slows his steps, one eyebrow raised and lips pursed. The confusionâs painted all across his face exactly as youâd hoped. Excellent.
âMorning.â He stops at your table, glancing at the empty chairs next to you and opposite you, and when he takes the one right beside you, youâre doing a little celebratory dance on the inside.
âDid you sleep well, Kook?â He eyes you as he gets his plate ready, and while he answers, you take a small bite of your food, your overly cheerful grin firmly in place.
âUh, yeah, did you?â
âOf course! Snuggly kept me company all night.â
The confusion in Jungkookâs eyes deepens, and youâd give anything to know whatâs running through his head right now. You keep your face just as innocent and cheerful as possible, though itâs getting harder by the second.
âSo, whatâve you been up to these past five months?â If your mathâs right, Haraâs now a little over four months along. So, if Jungkook was around back then, youâve got your answer.
âFive months?â He raises an eyebrow again, biting into the sandwich heâs just thrown together. Thereâs far more ham than breadâprobably more to keep his hands clean than for actual taste.
âYeah, whereâve you all been, then?â
âUh,â Jungkook chews, blinking at you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure you out. âIâve been to Bangkok, Hawaii, and, uh⌠before that, I was here for a few months.â
No. Fucking. Way. So all those mixed signals, not only from Jungkook but all his friends too, werenât so mixed after all.
âThis townâs pretty small. Is there anything exciting to do off-season?â
âWell, Hara had a huge birthday celebration. So there was that.â
âHaraâs birthdayâs in August?â
âYeah, why?â
So he gave her a baby for her birthday. How pathetic it makes you feel, realising youâve been too busy being still his to fall for someone new all this time. But you donât let the heartbreak show this time. You swallow it down because shutting down wonât help you now.
âJust asking.â
Jungkook just nods again, still contemplating your words, trying to read your motives like he always does, though youâre as blank as can be beneath your smile. Itâs not that youâve lost your determination to get through snowboardingâno, youâre way too competitive and stubborn to back down now. Still, you kind of wish you were as drunk as youâd been two days ago.
The upside of being fully sober again is that you feel fantastic. Physically, anyway. The downside is that your brain wonât shut up.
You vividly remember the night you ended things, the exhaustion, the desperation in your every word as you tried to explain yourself to him. It wasnât that you didnât love him; you did and you still do, maybe even more than you should. But back then, youâd grown tired of always feeling like you werenât enough, of feeling like you were someone he didnât really need.
Youâd always been the one to soothe your doubts on your own, to make excuses for him and his choices, to tell yourself it was just a phase, that heâd eventually grow out of itâthat heâd grow out of it for you. Not that heâd never do anything risky again, but just enough for him to see that some things are too dangerous to try.
Losing him was completely your fault, you know that, and even though heâs going to be a dadâeven if itâs not your childâyouâd crawl back to him in a heartbeat if there were any chance. Not that youâd ever be a homewrecker; thatâs something youâd never do, and youâll respect any relationship on earth as it is. But if heâs only going to be a father, if heâs only co-parenting with Hara and theyâre not together, youâd try to make it work somehow.
Or maybe youâre just delusional, thinking youâd be okay with him having a kid thatâs not yours. Because deep down, the thought of him being with someone else after youâeven if you werenât together anymoreâmakes you want to throw up. Not just because picturing it is one of your worst nightmares, but because all the love declarations he made, and will probably make again in that scenario, would be empty in their truest form. At least in your eyes.Â
Thereâs nothing you can do about it; itâs not like youâre some grandma who thinks virginity before marriage is a must. But if he was with you and says heâd want to be with you again, thereâs no chance if he had someone else in between.
Jungkook sniffs beside you, and youâre not exactly proud that, since learning heâs staying here at the hostel too, youâve kept spare napkins nearby, just like the good old days, and youâre not proud as you hand him one with a small smile, still chewing, knowing his rhinitis is worst in the morning.
âThanks,â heâs smiling, though thereâs still that look of doubt in his eyes, as if heâs still trying to work out what youâre up to. âSo, how about you?â
Youâve half a mind to exaggerate again, but you know youâll need to save your energy today, especially since youâre spending the whole day with Jungkook. So you stick to the truth. âNothing really. Mostly work, and a few activities Iâve tried.â
âItâs weird.â
âWhat is?â
âYou doing all that stuff.â
Jungkook doesnât look as accusatory as he did the first day; this time, he actually looksâŚsad.
âDidnât you want me that way?â You keep your tone light, friendly even, but deep down, that old pettiness rises to the surface.
âNo.â The word slips from his lips without a momentâs hesitation, his sad eyes fixed on yours, and suddenly, you canât breathe. It just doesnât make sense.
âIâŚwhy?â
He slowly swallows his last bite and reaches for his coffee, just to toy with the rim of the mug. Then he lifts his gaze to meet yours, boring into your irises as if to tell you more than heâs actually saying. âThatâs not you.â
You just stare at him, trying to understand why heâd want you to change all those years ago, only to now tell you, indirectly, he doesnât like the person heâd pushed you to become. No words form in your brain, again too overwhelmed by it all, so you just nod, because quite honestly, heâs right. Itâs not who you are, even if some of the less riskier activities, like snowboarding, turned out to be more fun than youâd expected.
Jungkook doesnât seem to handle the silence well as you quietly finish your meal, as his leg starts bouncing under the table again, occasionally brushing against yours. Youâre sure he doesnât even notice it, but you do and while you think about shifting your leg slightly away, that faint touch of his somehow soothes the intense longing you have for him.
How many times youâve thought about calling him, only to remind yourself he was the one who let you go without a word, is beyond counting now. Trying to count would be like trying to reach infinity without breaking down as the despair catches up to you and you simply canât do either.Â
You need, with all your might, to pull your mind out of this endless void and focus on the good. Youâre able to have a normal conversation with Jungkook. Heâs fine. Youâre fine. And if you can make it through these next two weeks, you tell yourself that youâll be fine too, even if itâs without him. Because that countdown in your head has shiftedâfrom thinking youâve got time to work things out, to savouring these last moments with him as much as possible, hoping to make memories you can hold onto as fondly as the ones you made all those years ago.
âSo, todayâs blue slope day?â
Jungkook nods with a smirk, eyes still on his cup, clearly lost in thought. âYeah. You ready?â
âSure. I was born ready.â
The snort that escapes him mirrors your own, letting the sadness fade into that playful light in his eyes youâve always adored when he finally looks back up to you.Â
âThen letâs head out, shall we?â
âYes, sir!â You salute playfully, downing the rest of your or rather his iced Americanoâsneakily poured into a regular mugâin one go and standing as soon as Jungkook does.
It doesnât take long for you both to get fully geared up and leave the hostel, Jungkook closing the usual distance between you by walking much closer than he has on any of the previous days, though you welcome it this time.Â
âGive me your board.â Jungkook stretches out his free hand towards you when youâre just a few feet away from Dionysos.
âI can handle it.â
âI know you can. But you donât have to.â
Wondering whether youâre about to be stubborn again, you decide to let him help you. Itâs a nice gesture, and knowing his strengthâwhich has clearly grown over the last few yearsâitâs no bother for him to carry your snowboard too. So you hand it to him, mumbling a small, grateful âthanksâ and fall into step with him, the rustling of your gear and the dull thud of your boots the only sounds breaking the otherwise silent streets.
âItâs such a lovely day.â You marvel at the first rays of sunlight shining down, making the snow-covered streets steam ever so slightly, looking straight out of a fantasy.
The townâs not fully awake yet; a few people are setting up their displays outside, greeting you both with warm smiles and friendly faces. Itâs easy being here, so welcoming when you ignore the chaos thatâs crashed down on you since you arrived.
Youâd like to imagine living here, spending the rest of your life in this place with Jungkook, befriending his friends too, all in some alternate universe. You daydream about a winter wedding, teaching your kids how to build a snowman, and everything else.
It would be nice, it would be perfect. Because in that universe, youâd still be with Jungkook, and youâd be not only happy but fulfilled.
âIt is, the slopes should be perfect too.â
A small group of kindergarteners crosses your path just before the slopes, and as your gaze drifts from them to the shop windows behind, you catch the reflection of you and Jungkook side by side. Heâs looking at the kids, full of adoration, with that same endearing smile you fell in love with all those years ago.
His hairâs just as shiny and healthy, his eyes sparkling in that familiar way. Youâve always known how much Jungkook wants a familyâhe always has, just as you always did. Itâs one of the reasons you connected so quickly. His values and hopes for the future aligned so perfectly with yours that falling for him and picturing a life together was almost inevitable.
You knew back then that having different hobbies wasnât the most important thing in a relationship, that differences in those areas wouldnât decide its downfall. But somehow, you both let those differences take centre stage.
It wasnât just poor communication that damaged things; you lost sight of what truly mattered, letting the good become tainted with doubt, trust begin to crack, and your hearts bleed in ways they never should have.
Standing there now, side by side, you realise that everything that happened, the way you both handled things, was so unnecessarily foolish. You wish youâd made different choices. You look perfect together, like one of those couples you see and just know theyâre meant to be, like theyâre soulmates, like theyâre fated.
Jungkookâs eyes lift up, catching yours in the window, and his smile grows just a bit wider. Thereâs still that adoration thereâor is it just nostalgia? Or maybe itâs the inner peace he feels, knowing heâll soon have a child of his own? Youâre not sure, and youâre afraid to let yourself think too deeply about it. Because, honestly, if itâs anything but adoration, youâd spiral so much, so irrevocably, that you might just break all over again.
Switching your board to his other hand, where heâs already holding his own, he lifts his now free arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Your head doesnât even reach his eyes, and your shoulder aligns perfectly with his arm, like youâre a puzzle piece fitting into him. You canât help the broad smile that breaks over your face when he says, âIâm glad youâre here.â
You turn away from the window, tilting your head up to look into his beautiful brown eyes, taking in this small, pure moment that youâll lock away in the deepest parts of your heart and cherish for the rest of your life. âMe too.â
Simple moments like these with Jungkook have always been so beautiful. Itâs always been like this, just the two of you in a bubble where nothing else matters. The ache in your heart should ease in moments like this, but instead, it grows, the longing building until itâs nearly unbearable.
How perfect it would feel to kiss him now, how your heart and soul would sing if he kissed you back. The realisationâthe overwhelming certaintyâthat he truly was the one for you hits you like an avalanche, burying you so deeply youâll never find a way out.
Still, you turn your face away, and he lets you go.
âLetâs get it.â Jungkook cheers, and you echo his words, because you donât know what else to say, walking side by side to the lift. Thankfully, this time without any annoying interruptions from his fangirls.
The first ride up in the ski gondola is equal parts terrifying and beautiful. The trees below look like miniature toys, and the mountain peaks seem too stunning to be real, like a picture painted by an artist. The gondola is empty except for the two of you, Jungkook sitting across from you, both of you gazing outside. But every now and then, you canât help glancing at his reflection.
Jungkook talks the entire way up, going over everything you should know about snowboarding by now. His calm voice, his solid presence right in front of you, and his patient review of the basics settle the last of your nerves, along with Hopeâs words, still ringing loudly in your mind.
Fear is faith in the negative.
And you donât want to live like that againânot now, and not when itâs just snowboarding. You trust your own abilities, and you trust Jungkook to keep you safe, like he always has. Well, aside from that one camping incidentâbut youâll turn a blind eye to that for now. You have to, because one lapse in his judgement all those years ago shouldnât undo everything else heâs proven to you.
The morning is spent making descent after descent, each one becoming easier and more fun, especially with Jungkook staying close. You manage to fall less and less, and when you do, heâs always right there, reaching out to help you back on your feet.
And while youâre laughing and joking like old times, it feels as if no time has passed at all.
Just before lunch, you both find yourselves back at the gondola, though this time itâs a different one.
âThereâs this restaurant way up there.â Jungkook points into the distance, and you squint, trying to follow his finger, but the sun is too bright to make out exactly where heâs pointing. âThe foodâs amazing, and weâll be able to take a way longer run down. Itâll build your stamina and get you ready for the harder slopes tomorrow.â
âSounds good.â You smile at him, excited not only for the food but also for the chance to push yourself a bit more.
When you step into the gondola with a few others, itâs so packed that you have to squeeze in beside Jungkook, pressing against his side. With his broad shoulders and your thick coat, thereâs not much room and after a few minutes, Jungkook shifts and lifts his arm, draping it over your shoulder to give you both a bit more space.
You frown. Even though itâs more comfortable this way, you donât like it at all. If heâs with Hara, this is crossing boundaries left and right. You know that if you were still together and he did this with another woman, itâd be a dealbreaker.
The gesture sours your mood instantly, letting your thoughts spiral in a way that has you dangerously close to snapping at him. But you hold back. You wonât start a scene now, not here; youâll wait until youâre at the restaurant and talk things through.
When you reach the top and leave the gondola, heading toward the small restaurant by the lift, Jungkook keeps his hand resting lightly on your back.
Itâs ironic, really. You left because you wanted him to find happiness, to be with someone who wouldnât bring conflict, someone he wouldnât feel the need to change. And here he is, supposedly happy, yet acting like youâre still his, clinging to old habits like theyâre the only things he has left with you.Â
Maybe thatâs the saddest part of all. Heâs got everything he once told you he wanted, yet heâs still holding onto pieces of the past, unable to let them go. And maybe heâll never fully move on, just like you havenât, even if he thinks he has. But thatâs not something you can fix. You triedâmore than onceâto help him keep his distance, to let go of whatever still kept him wounded. Even if it wasnât the perfect approach, pretending to be with Yoongi, you thought it might help him move on. But he has to handle that himself now; youâre done being the one to guide him there.
You deserve peace, too. You deserve to be able to look back on your time together without feeling unresolved tension. If that means keeping your distance, letting him live his life with Hara without stepping in, then so be it. Youâre done making excuses for him, done justifying his behaviour to yourself. Heâs made his choices, back then and now too, and now itâs time for you to make yours.
You take a deep breath, letting it all settle within you as you step into the restaurant. The hurt, the sadness, the longingâsure, itâs all still there, and maybe it always will be. But now, itâs just that: memories. Moments you once cherished, now filed away in a part of your heart that no longer needs to cling so tightly. Or at least, thatâs what you hope.
As you sit down across from him, letting go bit by bit, you realise that maybe this is what closure should feel like. Hurtful, and not freeing at all.Â
âYouâre kinda touchy.âÂ
Jungkook looks up from his menu, running the tip of his tongue over his lip piercing. âI always am.â
Your lips press into a firm line, shoulders tensing even more. Jungkookâs eyes dart over you, and he realises too late that your mood has shifted. As he catches on, his nervous habits start to surface in an instant. He fumbles with his menu, his leg bouncing so hard that the tablecloth shifts slightly with each movement.
âDoesnât it feel wrong to you?â You ask, your tone so accusatory it even startles you.
Jungkook gulps, actually gulps, and you feel the urge to laugh or maybe storm off altogether.
âNo?â He sounds uncertain, though thereâs a strange conviction in his voice, even with his nerves. âDoes it bother you?â
âYes.â
You stare each other down, Jungkook nodding but tilting his head slightly, eyebrows drawn. âIs it because of Yoongi?â
Should you come clean and tell him youâre not dating Yoongi, that heâs just your cousin? But you canât see the point. It wouldnât change anything now, youâre sure of that. Though youâre not sure if the snort and shake of your head is more because of how absurd it all is, or if itâs meant to answer his question. Either way, it fits. And as Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching in a steady rhythm, you donât say anything more.
The tension between you feels like itâs growing and the silence between you both is almost suffocating you. You try to distract yourself by looking at the scenery outside the window, but itâs no use.
âI never wanted to do all those things,â you mumble, as if you can somehow lift a bit of the weight off your chest. âBut I felt soâŚso unworthyâŚso empty. I needed to do it, even if I hated most of it.â
The waiter sets down your plates and drinks, wishing you a pleasant meal. Still, you donât look up at Jungkook, maybe out of embarrassment, maybe because you just canât. Instead, you stare at your food, forcing yourself to eat, even if itâs only a little.
âYou shouldnât have.â His voice is gentle, and you feel his gaze burning onto your face, though you try to ignore it. âNot for someone else, at least.â
Is he talking about himself? Or does he think you did it all for Yoongi? Either way, heâs right, though those words would have made more difference if heâd said them years ago.
âMaybe youâre right.â
Itâs unusual to see Jungkook eating so slowly, and itâs not like you to keep so quiet, either. Itâs not that you canât handle silence, but sharing a meal like this without any connection feels so pointless.
âWas it easy?â Jungkook eventually asks, and your eyes involuntarily snap up to him.
âWhat was?â
âMoving on so fastâŚâ
Sometimes, looking at Jungkook like you do now, you marvel at how much heâs matured. His features have lost that softness, his smooth skin now showing faint lines from laughter and time you werenât there to share.
Youâd always imagined growing old with him, and even though it hasnât been that long, your heart aches for all the time lost.
The faint, bluish shadows under his eyes, something he didnât even have during his finals, make him look not just tired, but drained off life. You can only hope itâs not because of you.
âI never did, so I canât say.â
You both go back to eating, letting silence settle again as you try to process it all. Maybe you need a whiteboard, or even a list, something to help you make sense of it all, thinking youâll definitely do that later, once youâre back at the hostel tonight.Â
More than half your plate is still full, but you canât seem to eat any more. As you set your cutlery down and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, you notice Jungkookâs already finished his meal.
âYou should eat more.â
âIâm full. Iâll just take it to go.â
And after Jungkook sighs and nods, you do just that, quickly insisting youâll pay for your own meal, refusing to let him cover it for you.
Finally back outside, the sky has shifted, like your mood, from sunny and clear to dark, with low-hanging, heavy clouds.
âThatâs odd,â Jungkook mutters, fishing his phone out and typing quickly. âForecast didnât mention a downpour.â
âWhat should we do?â Your nerves flare, body tingling and palms starting to sweat as that familiar panic creeps in, the kind that takes over any time things veer off-plan.
Jungkookâs eyes dart over his screen, only adding to your unease.
âShit,â he curses under his breath and puts his phone away. âSo, uh, thereâs a thunder cell thatâs come up out of nowhere, and thereâs a warning for a severe snowstorm. But itâs all good. We still have time.â
Just then, the first big snowflakes start falling from the clouds, and the wind picks up. As you look up at the sky, your voice trembles, âJungkook?â
âAlright, okay, maybe we donât have as much time as I thought. Weâre going to head down this way quickly, but safely.â He points toward a fork in the path where you can see a sign with a blue dot in one direction and a black one in the otherâthe black meaning itâs the most difficult and dangerous run there is.
âOkay.â You donât sound entirely convinced, partly because, while you believe in your skills, you know that in these weather conditions, even the best skills wonât count for much.
âStrap on your board. We need to go.â
And you follow his instructions because, at this point, thereâs no other option. The wind has picked up dramatically by the time you straighten up again, and you have to strain every muscle to stay upright against its force.
Youâre terrified, and Jungkookâs focused, hurried pace isnât doing much to settle your nerves.
âYouâre leading, so I can keep my eyes on you.âÂ
You nod, shifting your weight forward to start descending, but keeping control of the board proves not just difficult, but almost impossible. Your vision blurs with the flurry of snowflakes, even through your goggles, you can barely make out the slope or see the fork ahead.
âTo the right!â you hear Jungkook shout from behind, his voice frantic to its core. But as you pick up speed, the wind shoves you beyond the limit of what you can handle, pushing you towards the left, dangerously close to the black run.
âTo the right, ___!â
You try, you really do, but you canât seem to manage it. Like a leaf in a gale, youâre pulled in the direction you donât want to go, helpless to stop it. Lungs burning with each short breath, you think you scream the moment you realise itâs too late, skidding down the steep, black slope.
You try to brake, just like Jungkook taught you, but your knees are weak, your muscles not trained enough to regain control.
Jungkook rushes up beside you, and even though youâre in full survival mode, his presence brings you a tiny sliver of reassurance, even if itâs just for a while.Â
âYouâre doing good, keep going!â
And you do, tears streaming down under your scarf. The storm keeps pushing you off course, pulling you again and again in directions you donât want to go. But Jungkookâs right there, sticking close beside you, trying to block out some of the windâs blasts and guiding you as best as he can.
It feels like an eternityâfighting against nature, fighting to stay upright, fighting the fear building stronger and stronger in your chest. Somehow, even though you left the marked slope ages ago, heading somewhere unknown and unsure if itâll lead you to safety, you spot a small, abandoned-looking hut in the distance.
âTry to stop!â Jungkook yells, his voice barely reaching you through the howling wind.
âNow?â
âNow!â
You manage to stop, though clumsily, falling hard onto your bum, every muscle aching so painfully youâre barely able to move. Jungkook ditches his board in seconds, crawling over to help you with yours as the frozen clips stubbornly resist coming loose.
âYou good?â He glances briefly at your face, breath visible in short puffs matching yours, his lips chapped and slightly split.
You nod, though youâre still trembling, trying to steady yourself as adrenaline surges through you without much mercy.Â
Jungkook gets up with your board in hand, offering his free hand to you in a heartbeat and pulling you up effortlessly. After he picks up his own board, jointing yours, he clasps your hand with his free one and bolts towards the hut, dragging you along with him.Â
Thankfully, or rather miraculously, the hutâs indeed abandoned and open. And while Jungkook pushes you inside first, letting the boards clatter onto the wooden floor as he leans against the door, both of you are panting and gasping for air, needing this break more than anything.Â
The hutâs not really windproof, small gaps in the wooden walls still letting the cold wind whistle inside.
âSeriously? What the hell were you thinking?!â He rips his helmet off and throws it to the boards on the ground.
You try to straighten yourself, though the acheâs nearly too much. âI⌠I tried. I⌠itâŚâ
âYou just never listen, do you? I told you to turn right back there, but of course, you went your own way. Always have, always will.â
The storm outsideâs picked up even more now, and the cold has seeped into your bones, though you still fold your arms, doing your best to keep your voice steady despite the burn in your lungs. âOh, please, Jungkook. Donât act like Iâm the only one who doesnât listen. Youâve got selective hearing when it suits you.â
He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a gloved hand through his sweat-dampened hair. âSelective hearing? I spent years trying to tell you things, but you were always too stubborn to actually listen.â
âRight, yeah, Iâm the stubborn one,â you snap right back. âYou still canât even talk to me unless itâs about some bullshit like snowboarding.â
âOh, as if youâre any better.â
âI am! You didnât even say one word before I left!â you explode, ripping off your helmet too, followed by your gloves, yeeting them across the hut.
âOh, fuck off, ___! I wanted to, but clearly, you couldnât wait to fuck Yoongi as soon as you got rid off me!â
âYoongiâs my cousin, Jungkook. Family. But I wouldnât expect you to know that, since you barely know anything about my life anymore.â
Jungkookâs face falls at that, and you can clearly see how his whole world view crumbles in his eyes, leaving nothing behind but a hollow sadness youâve never seen before. Though youâre sad too, youâre hollow too, and so you continue, âDonât pin this on me when I never moved on, when you were the one fucking Hara and giving her a baby.â
His unfocused eyes snap to you, lips still parted as he breathes, âI never slept with her. Sheâs Jinâs wife.â
You feel like youâre falling, falling so hard and fast you canât stop. The tears that coat your eyes are nothing compared to the agonising realisation ripping you open. All those years, even all this hurt youâve been experiencing these last few days, were unfounded.
If you werenât this close to Jungkook, youâd think his red nose was just from the cold, but the silver lining his eyes carry shows just how broken you both are, what you did to yourselves without even realising it in the first place.Â
âYou moved on,â you press out, fighting the sob that threatens to spill.
âI havenât.â
How foolish all the assumptions were, how foolish of him to assume just as much. How utterly foolish that you both lost the ability to talk to each other long before your relationship ended.
But maybe it had to come to this for you to learn what itâs like to be separated, to learn how to communicate⌠but have you really? You reckon you havenât, not given how things went down. Maybe itâs too late, just as Hope warned you, though a small, fragile part in you clings to the delusion that things might still turn out right.
âLetâs⌠letâs call for help.â You turn, unable to keep looking at Jungkook, and youâre sure he needs time to process the bomb thatâs just dropped.
âYeah,â heâs taking out his phone again, though the breath he lets out is nothing short of concerning. âMy phoneâs dead. How about yours?â
By now youâve sat down on the small, bare bed, as standing any longer would have had you fainting by this point. While you rummage through your inner coat pocket to pull out your old beaten-up phone, Jungkook stomps over with his snow-covered boots and sits down beside you, leaving enough space between you that it feels like miles.
Lighting up the screen, you see your phoneâs battery miraculously still well over 90%, but thereâs absolutely no signal. âNope, no signal. Weâre stranded.â
Just as youâre about to put your phone back, Jungkook stops you with his voice. âYou still got the case?â
You pause, looking over at him, only to meet hopeful eyes you canât quite place.
âUh, yeah. You clearly got rid of yours though.â
You hate sounding so bitter, but it is what it is. Years of feeling the way you did canât be undone with one revelation.
âI lost it⌠my phone, too, when I was in the Caribbean shortly after weâŚâ
You hum and nod because what else is there to do?
âWhy did you keep it?â
Your eyes stray from your phone, where youâre running your thumb over one of Jungkookâs doodles on the case like it always does, to him, though heâs not looking at you this time, just fiddling with his gloves in his lap.
âI canât get rid of memories. You should know that.â
âEven if theyâre bad?â He turns his head to you, though his eyes are fixed on your phone. The way heâs slouching is so unlike him, and it hurts to see what youâve done to him.
âThey arenât bad.â
Jungkook nods a few times, as if heâs trying to cement your words in his mind, rewriting everything he thought was real but never was.
Eventually, Jungkook stands up and walks over to a small closet, pulling open the doors to see whatâs inside.
âNo way.â He breathes out a laugh, and you crane your neck to look past his broad shoulders, though itâs no use.
When he turns, arms full of vacuum bags stuffed with blankets and pillows, you feel like you might scream in delight. Especially when Jungkook rips them open beside you and a waft of freshly washed fabric hits you.
âThatâs like hitting the jackpot.â You look up at him, your grin as wide as his as he just laughs. âCan you light the fireplace too?â
Jungkook furrows his brows as he looks around the hut, likely because he hadnât spotted it until now. But as soon as he clocks it, along with the stack of dried wood beside it, heâs off in a flash, inspecting the chimney and everything else.
Meanwhile, you gather all the bedding and spread it out on the bed, purposefully ignoring the fact that thereâs only this one bed in the hut and not even a couch. It shouldnât be a big dealâyouâve done more than sleep in the same bed as Jungkook before, and youâre both clearly single, so thereâs nothing your conscience can protest about.
Still, time has passed, and youâve clearly drifted apart more than you wouldâve liked. Itâs an unusual situation youâre in, an emergency really, and youâll have to adjust to it without reading too much into it.
âGot a lighter on you?â
You pull it out of your pocket, leaving Yoongiâs cigarettes in your pocket that you nicked this morning alongside before leaving, and toss the lighter his way which he catches effortlessly with one hand, lighting up the kindling heâs set, framed by a few larger sticks of wood.
Jungkook watches the fire intently, and soon enough the hutâs heating up, allowing you to take off your coat. Not wanting to keep your boots on any longerâby now, theyâve cut off all circulation in your feetâyou pull them off as well, then crawl onto the bed, settling against the headboard under the layers of blankets.
Youâre absolutely knackered at this point, and as you check the time on your phone, you realise itâs already past dinnertime.
âYou can join me, you know?â you smile as Jungkook turns around, muttering an âokayâ and starting to peel off his gear too, though you donât miss the flush creeping up to his ears.
How endearing he can still be.
The bedâs clearly not meant for twoâespecially not when Jungkookâs become this buff. Heâd probably struggle to fit on his own, let alone with someone else. And though youâre fairly petite next to him, youâre both squished together, personal space nonexistent. Still, itâs better than freezing to death outside.
âIâm so tired,â you yawn.
âIâm so hungry.â
The pout on Jungkookâs face makes you giggle; itâs just so him. Without thinking, you lean over him to fetch the food from your coat. Only when you settle back beside him do you notice how stiff heâs gone.
You donât comment on it, just hand him the leftovers, which he reluctantly takes, though this time he doesnât engulf your hands like he did yesterday. Not that youâd admit it, but youâre a bit sad he didnât do it again.
âYou hungry too? Itâs your food.â
âIâm good, Jungkook, please just eat.â
Youâre starting to read him again, just a bit less hazy than it was the last few days. So before he can start arguing with you, those sad boba eyes pleading for you to eat when youâre genuinely not hungry, you lay your hand over his arm, giving it a light squeeze. âIâm not hungry, promise.â
With that, Jungkook starts to eat and you lean back, slumping more into the blankets as he eats in silence, your eyes growing heavy with each passing minute.Â
âYou can sleep if you want.â Jungkook gently pulls the blanket higher over your shoulder as you lie down fully, your head nearly resting against his hip.
âIâm still cold,â you mumble sleepily, though thereâs no chance youâll really fall asleep while youâre still shivering like this. The stormâs really taken it out of you.
Jungkook shifts, and when you open your eyes, you realise heâs finished eating and is lying down facing you. âTurn around.â
Lying beside him like this, faces just inches apart, is something you never thought would happen again. And while itâs hard to look away from himâthe slope of his nose, the Cupidâs bow of his lips making them almost too invitingâyou fight against the blankets draped over you both and turn around. Jungkook slips an arm around your waist without much care, pulling you fully against him until thereâs no space left between you.
Heart racing like a hummingbirdâs wings, you try to relax into his hold, but the thin layer of fabric separating you makes it feel as though youâre bare. Youâd seen the contours of his body when he stripped off his gear, the black thermal shirt and pants clinging to his muscles like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. But feeling his solid body against yours like this, after so long, leaves your head spinning in circles you canât seem to stop.
You havenât noticed how your hips press back against his crotch, havenât noticed the way your body instinctively moves against his until Jungkookâs breath hits your ear.
âSorry,â you breathe, but somehow, you canât bring yourself to stop. His large hand, which had been resting on the mattress beside you, slides up along your stomach, stopping just before cupping your breast from below, and you know youâve stepped through a door that shouldâve been left closed.
Heat rises within you, making you shiver with something far more pleasant than the cold. You need more of him, more of his touch, and your hand slips from beneath the blankets, reaching back to tangle in the hair at the back of his head, willing yourself to just feel and nothing more.Â
His quick breaths ghost across the part of your neck thatâs bare, just enough to spark more want not only in your heart but your cunt too. You tug gently at his hair, urging him down, igniting a fire you know wonât be put out easily.
Before his hand fully cups your breast, he pulls you even tighter against him, hot lips kissing and sucking at your skin as you press yourself back, trying to ease the ache between your legs against his growing cock.
The low moans slipping from Jungkookâs throat are music to your ears, and the realisation that he likely sang that song not for Hara, but for you, sends another wave of arousal out of your cunt.
âJungkookâŚâ you rasp, basking in his touch, but as soon as his name leaves your lips, he pulls back.
Thinking youâve done something wrong, you turn your head, only to see him tugging off the last of his clothes. Relieved and more turned on than youâve ever been, you strip off your own gear, leaving the blanket draped over you. Itâs been years, your bodyâs changed, and while you know it shouldnât matter, you still hope he doesnât notice.
In a blink, heâs back, resuming where he left off, though now itâs his warm, smooth skin against yours. The ridges of his abdomen press along your back, and the feel of his cockâhard and oh so hotâagainst the cheeks of your ass is pure bliss.
You turn your head, trying to catch his gaze, maybe even hoping for a kiss, but when you catch sight of the familiar chain around his neck, it stops you in your tracks.
Jungkook pauses too, his eyes questioning, but as soon as he realises what youâre looking at, he gives you a lazy smirk, his hand cupping your face to turn you towards him and with it your whole body.Â
You expect him to kiss you now, hungrily like he always did, but instead, he brushes his lips along your cheek, your neck, shifting to settle between your legs while the cool metal of the chainâs grazing your tits with every shift of his body.
âI donât have a condom. I couldâŚeat you out.â
His thigh pressing against you doesnât lessen the ache, but you remember the one scare you had together, that time you thought you might be pregnant not long after youâd started dating. It wasnât that you wouldnât have wanted it, but youâd both been so young. Even now, the thought makes your heart skip, but not as violently as it used to. Youâd be ready and willing to take the risk, though, would he?Â
âIâm clean, on the pill.â
Jungkook lets out a low groan against your neck as you press your thigh gently against his cock, needing to give something back.
âI havenât been with anyone since you. So clean.â
Is he serious? The thought hits you hard, and though you know he never lied to you before, you still canât help but pull back, needing to see his face.
âYou havenât?â
âNo.â His voice is barely a whisper, and the same love you remember shines in his eyes, making you tear up.
âMe too.â
âFuck.â He returns to your neck, his fingers tracing your lines until they find your weeping cunt, slipping between your lips to spread your juices in gentle, familiar strokes as he preps you, every touch an echo of the love that maybe never faded.
The first stretch of his middle finger inside you is nothing short of insane, drawing you higher with a single stroke than any toy has managed in years. The way your cunt clenches around him seems to drive Jungkook on even more as he pumps with precise motions, soon adding his ring finger, bringing you dangerously close to euphoria.
Jungkookâs free hand roams from your neck to your tits, back and forth, squeezing, mapping you out like he forgot how you felt like, though finally resting on your jaw as he nestles his head between your shoulder and neck, leaving soft love bites in his wake.
Itâs when he picks up the pace, the base of his palm hitting your clit relentlessly with each thrust, that you come undone, your orgasm flooding over his hand as he continues, determined to not stop just yet.Â
A muffled whine of your name slips from his lips, softer than youâve ever heard, and while you long to hear him call your pet name like he used to, it only amplifies the fullness in your heart for him.
Jungkook keeps his fingers inside you, now scissoring them to stretch you further as you cling to his back, not caring if you leave angry marks.Â
âThink you can take it?â
âYes,â you mewl, not caring if you couldnât. Youâll take him, you need him, need to feel as if none of those years apart ever happened.
Once again, you think he might finally kiss you, but instead, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your damp forehead. You momentarily frown, but itâs forgotten the second his cock aligns with your still sobbing cunt, dragging up and down to coat his entire length and even his tight balls.
The sight of Jungkook when he finally pushes in is nothing short of mesmerising. Heâs so perfectly sculpted, every muscle cord defined, and with his piercings and tattoo sleeve, he looks like a fantasy you never dared dreaming of.Â
Youâve always had a weak spot for tattoos, but seeing them inked across Jungkookâs skin? Thatâs your ultimate downfall. A glorious downfall, as the burn of his thick length pushing deep inside you sends you reeling, until heâs so far in that you canât tell where he starts and you end.
âOh my god,â you choke out, overwhelmed by everything Jungkook isâand everything heâs become.
Heâs unusually silent, though you barely notice, not when he begins to rock his hips, leisurely sliding his massive cock in and out, low grunts and moans escaping him as his gaze locks onto yours and not dares to stray.Â
Jungkook leans back, increasing the intensity of his thrusts, sweat forming in small beads along the ridges of his chest and abs, dripping down despite the cold. His nipples are hard, and your mouth waters with the urge to suck on them. But seeing his own mouth slightly parted, breaths quickening in time with the rhythm of his hips, youâre sure heâs thinking the same, drawn to your own nipples, standing proud on the jiggling flesh of your chest.Â
And while you wish you were the flicker of firelight dancing across his skin, youâre not far behind, as his hands find their way from your hips to your tits, caressing them like he always did, giving you everything and far more. You need something to ground yourself, a way to keep from shattering under the emotions running wild in your mind, intensified with every thrust Jungkook drives into your core. So, you grip his wrists, not to stop him, but to urge him onâto make him pinch harder.
Maybe you need the bite of it, maybe you want him to not just take away the ache, but be the reason you remember this night years from now.
âJungkook, Iâm so close, oh my god.â
The grunt that escapes him reverberates through you, nearly pushing you over the edge on its own, but he slows, setting a gentler pace as he shifts so his mouth can worship you from your breasts to your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys across your delicate skin.
You know the two of you will be marked by the end of the night, and right now, thatâs all you want. You want to leave yourself etched into his skin, to reclaim your place not only in his heart but in every part of him.
In this moment, itâs like youâre finally wholeânot just because Jungkook fills you completely, but because he completes you. He always has, and while youâve both been damned by what happened before, it feels like redemption might be close.
âYouâreâŚâ Jungkook murmurs against your skin, his warm breath searing into you, though you need him to finish his sentence, need to hear it.
But as you cradle his head in your hands and he lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes are hooded, yet glistening, and your throat tightens at the sight too.
Face to face, you share the same breath, as if you share one heart, your small hands gripping his face as if you never want to let go, his hands cradling your small head with the tenderness that once meant everything. Itâs as though you feel what heâs trying to sayâbut somehow, you donât.
Thereâs still a wall between you, still something unsaid screaming in the silence that just canât seem to go away, and youâre sure he feels it too. He feels it as your orgasm builds, feels it in the desperation of his own thrusts, in the matching, agonising, wordless ache in both your eyes, feels it when you both shatter together in a burst of all colours and stars in existence.Â
And then, all thatâs left is pain.
He hasnât kissed you, and you didnât kiss him either.
And as he pulls his now-softening length from your still-pulsing cunt and reaches for a tissue from his trousers off the floor to help you clean up, he silently gets dressed.Â
Dresses as if heâs ashamed, dressed as if he regrets it, dressed as if youâre the worst thing thatâs ever happened to him.
So you do the same, slipping into your clothes before lying back down, shifting as close to the wall as possible, facing away from him to give him some peace where none is found.Â
The tears falling silently onto the pillow should only be from the shivering thatâs returned, a byproduct of the cold that momentarily disappeared but is now back as if you were never meant to feel warm again.
Finally, exhaustion sweeps over you. Physically. Mentally. And everything in between.Â
And as Jungkook lies down too, once more pulling you close and wrapping you in the warmth you crave more than you can bear to admit, your eyes fall shut almost effortlessly.
Maybe sleeping it all away will make it better, forgotten as a dream that never was.
Forgotten, like everything good that once was but now isnât anymore.
Forgotten, like the tear you feel slide down the back of your neck, disappearing into the fabric of your shirt where all your sins and failures lie buried.
01 ⢠02 ⢠masterlist ⢠04
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#fic: CCL#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts army#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#jungkook imagine#jjk x reader#romcom#Jungkook smut#bts smut#Jungkook fluff#bts fluff#jungkook bts#jungkook romance#Jungkook romcom#jungkook#crack fic#kim namjoon#namjoon#bts namjoon#bts kim seokjin#kim seokjin#bts min yoongi#min yoongi#park jimin#bts park jimin
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Ok so, I've been having this taught of reader falling into a coma and not remembering anything from what happened before waking up. Which yandere do you think would take advantage and which would feel bad about doing so?
And why is it Diluc?
You were told you told a nasty fall. Right down the stairs at that. You're quite the clutz, one of your maids joked to you, but it's not like you'd remember. Everything about yourself, other than your name was blurry. Your name and something else. Red hair. Long red hair flowing down his back. Other than that, your mind was empty of memories, like you'd been reset with nothing.
"Master Diluc will be here shortly," the maid said with a smile as she used a wet cloth to dab the knot on your forehead. Swollen and painful, you could see the water in her bowl turning red from the dried blood, but she still smiled. Almost as if she enjoyed tending to you, "He's been dying to see you. You've had him worried sick, my lady,"
"Diluc...?" You repeated his name back, it felt foreign on your tongue, yet all too familiar at the same time. You forced yourself to think on that name as you'd done your own and nothing came up. Just empty, hollow, and blank.
She chuckled at your response, "Your husband! My boss. Master Diluc?" She tested these words while staring into your eyes, waiting for any sign of familiarity, but that flicker never lit in your eyes, and you grew more and more confused as she spoke. She watched your face change and in turn, hers did as well. You recognized the expression she was making. A look of worry and fear, that she tried to mask.
"I-i...have a husband?" You asked. The idea sounded crazy even to you. You'd gotten married and completely forgotten the person, forgotten the wedding, forgotten yourself.
Her little bowl was sat to the side and she dusted her hands on her apron. Moving quickly, she gave you a weak, worried smile as she marchd to the door, "I'll go get master Diluc." She said hurriedly, and she was gone. Leaving you in an unfamiliar room, with a strangely comforting ticking of a clock.
It wasn't long before the door opened again and he stepped in. He looked serious, almost scary, but also strangely remorseful. His eyes danced over to your forehead, where the bump was, then back to your face. His lip quivered as he knelt down at your bed side, reaching out to take your hand and being surprised that you allowed it. But his touch was gentle, he traced his thumb up and down the back of your hand, testing words on his tongue before he finally asked, "What do you remember?"
A weak smile formed on your lips. How could you tell him nothing? Or that all you had were bits and pieces of memories and even then, they weren't anything to go by. Yet that little shy smile was more than enough to tell him what you were thinking. He grimaced a bit before taking your hand and squeezing it, his touch was warm, borderline hot against the back of your hand.
"I'm your husband, Diluc Radnvindr and you're my wife. We've been married for two years," he spoke slowly, as if he were explaining this all to a child who wouldn't understand, "We live just a little bit outside of Mondstadt, I own a winery and the surrounding land as well."
At his mention of marriage, you looked down at your hands. Bare. Not even the indent of a ring on your finger.
"We don't have rings?" You questioned curiously, but sure enough, when you looked at his hand, he was wearing his wedding band dutifully. A plain gold band that wrapped around his finger.
Diluc's face tensed when you asked the question. It was an odd expression, not the type to face you expected your husband to make. But he still reached into a table at your side, opening a velvet box and showing you a similar gold band, only this one sparked with jewels and gems. It looked practically brand new. Not even a scratch or fingerprint on it. Almost like it'd never been worn.
"You always told me you weren't too fond of rings," he muttered, but his face looked sorrowful, "I couldn't force you to wear it so you never did."
You looked at that ring and you saw pure beauty. It looked like it was forged with love. You couldn't imagine why you didn't wear it, it was to pretty to not be seen. When you slipped the ring out of the box and onto the finger, Diluc made a face that was a mixture of surprise and horror. You gave him a questioning glance, but only was met with a stiff, but reassuring smile.
Days went by with you being a doting wife to Diluc, but the back of your mind something always felt wrong, like you were doing everything wrong. When you questioned why Diluc always ate his meals in his office, he did sit and eat with you at the table, but the maids looked confused at the sight of him. When you mentioned that it was strange that you and Diluc had supposedly been married so long, but didn't share a room, he allowed you into his bed. But even seemed uncomfortable by your presence.
Your dreams were restless that particular night. You dreamt of memories that you'd forgotten like you were living through them again. It was pouring rain and your heart was pounding. As you ran through the gardens, your feet bare and filthy with mud, all you could think was that you had to get away. But away from what?
Your heart thumping in your ears seemed even louder than the rainfall, your clothes soaked, fear being the only thing that pushed you further. When your wrist was grabbed, you screamed. Screamed harder than you had in your entire life. You expected to see a stranger when you turned, but instead you were met with familiar red hair, and angrier red eyes. Diluc.
He struck you. Hard across your cheek. It was a stinging slap, only calmed by the cold rain water hitting your face. Before you could even get the chance to fight, Diluc was dragging you back the way you came. Towards the manor. Towards your prison. You dug your feet into the mud, but you didn't stand a chance against his superior strength.
When you awoke in a cold sweat, chest heaving and eyes threatening to cry, his arm over your waist felt more like a restraint than a comfort. He slept peacefully right next to you as your mind tried to make sense of your dream, your memory. A pit formed in your stomach, a feeling of fear and worry as you thought about every strange thing about your marriage. About the strange way the maids looked at you. About how Diluc himself seemed almost surprised by what you assumed was typical martial affection. You swallowed hard as faint memories came flooding back. And the sudden realization of the fact that you were being lied to. And the liar, the cause of all of it, was nuzzling his face into you side.
#mai<3 answers#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#yandere x reader#yandere genshin#yandere x you#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere diluc x you#yandere diluc x reader#yandere diluc
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Logan x Reader pt.3
Listen here folks, I remember a lot from the movie however most of those memories are Hugh Jackman's abs
I hope this is alright, I added a few bits and obviously there will be dialogue that I have forgotten but I really hope it's semi-good, I know a lot of you have wanted a third part so hopefully it lives up to your standards đŤś
There be "violence" in this one
<< Part 2 Part 4 >> Masterlist
Logan had spent the journey drinking Gambit's booze and watching you sleep. You looked younger when you slept, less worn. He used to love taking you to your room when you fell asleep grading his pupil's papers or even just watching TV in the sitting room. He'd scoop you up in his arms and secure you safely in your room, then eventually he'd settle you in his.Â
You had said the word husband yesterday, that wasn't lost on him. You'd been married to your version of Wolverine. One that wasn't too âmachoâ to ask. One that loved you freely. He was a fucking idiot for being scared to take that leap. He and you had settled into a fuck-buddy-but-there-were-feelings-involved situation.Â
He could've had more with you.Â
Maybe if he was with you he wouldn't have been at a bar when the humans attacked.
He was lost without his friends but he was truly wrecked without you. When he found your body amongst the pile of mutants something inside him snapped. He couldn't stop hurting people. It began with the bad, then the semi-bad, then the not bad and eventually he killed innocents. He killed people that didn't deserve it. He made a bad name for the mutants and the X-Men. He killed the X-Men by tarnishing the memory.Â
He couldn't be without you again. He'd bring you with him, take you to wherever Deadpool was taking him.
Surely he could convince you.
âYou'll have to wake her soon.â Laura's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She was staring intensely but not in an intimidating way. He didn't think she could stare without the intensity behind her eyes. She was born with it, through him.Â
âI will.â He agreed.Â
âYou want some?â She raised an open cereal box. He didn't know why but he didn't want to insult her any more. He accepted some and thanked her. It was chalky but tasted vaguely like chocolate. Laura still just watched Logan, every stretch of his jaw as he chewed and eventually swallowed and then she still gazed into his soul âYou love her.âÂ
Logan didn't think it was a question but responded. He couldn't disagree if he wanted to. âYes.âÂ
âI do, too.â She flicked her eyes to your face and then turned her head, repositioning herself on Blade's shoulder.Â
Logan stayed still for another few minutes but the silhouette of the giant, Wade called Paul Rudd, became visible in the distance. It was time to wake you.Â
He delicately shook your shoulder and you frowned, grumbling and burrowing higher into his neck.
âBaby.â Logan shook you again, and you let out a huff, squinting open one eye. âWe'll be there soon.âÂ
You raised your head and slowly sat up, eyes sleepy and letting out a small yawn. Logan gave you a soft smile as he flattened a piece of hair that had stuck out, his hand slid down to caress your cheek.Â
âYou could come with us.âÂ
âWith you?â Your brain was still mush. âI can't leave them.âÂ
âNo.â He lied. âYou should be up there in the skull with âPool and me. It would be a better vantage point for you.âÂ
The plan was to have Laura, Elektra, Blade, and Gambit on the offence whilst you were their defence. You always were the protector, the shield of the group. Wade and Logan were going to distract and then use Juggernautâs helm to bargain with Cassandra Nova.Â
You took a moment to consider with your slow brain but then agreed. âYeah, that's probably a good idea.âÂ
You continued to wake yourself up, preparing for a fight. It wasn't hard to, everyday in this wasteland was a fight. Everyone seemed to work for this Cassandra lady which meant that they wanted to kill you for not.Â
In your peripheral you saw Blade open the sunroof, before rummaging in his bag.
Gambit spoke over the radio, âso, ami, âe gonna be âlastinâ a way through thoseâre hands.âÂ
âWhat he means to ask is how are we going to get through? I feel like that was an integral part of this plan and I have miss-â Wade cut himself off when he felt movement behind him. Blade had stood and freed the rocket launcher, hoisting it over his shoulder and aiming. âOh my god, where did you get that?âÂ
El glanced through the rearview mirror and answered, âPunisher.â slamming her foot down on the gas.
âWhat one there's been like five?âÂ
You couldn't hear the end of his question as Blade fired the shot, it landed right in the centre breaking the fingers.Â
âHold on!â El ordered as she expertly spun the car to the left.Â
Smoke plumed as you all were quick to exit. Elektra, Wade and Blade were to the left side. Logan, yourself and Laura to the right, Gambit was in the middle shuffling his deck.Â
The others: mutants, supes, enhanced, all crowded you, waiting for the order to kill. There were familiar faces such as Lady Deathstrike, Toad, Juggernaut and Blob. There were others that you were fairly sure you recognised through their distinctive features despite them having different faces, like Azazel and Pyro.Â
There were a good fifty more circling you, Laura smirked putting her sunglasses on. Blade spun his weapons then tapped one on Elektra's sais in a âcheersâ motion. Wade had his katanas out and your Wolverines both extended their claws. You and Gambit, the only ones with âmagicâ powers stayed fairly still, well, as still as he could be.Â
Cassandra was standing above you all in the skull of an Ant-Man, you remembered when he got there. She was quick to free him of skin and then organs. Positioning him in this horrid way, using his body as a base. It made you sick when you thought of the palaces and the buildings that came through the portals in abundance.Â
âYou came back.â She spoke. Her accent was posh but her tone was clipped. Clearly annoyed.Â
âYou have to send us back!â Wade shouted.Â
She gave you a smirk and retreated into the right eye socket.Â
Here's where the fun begins.Â
âLet's fucking go!â Deadpool yelled. You all let out a war cry, Gambit's being âAllons!â as you all depart at the same time, each of you taking a side and going for it. Blade went toe to toe with Toad, Elektra fought Lady Deathstrike, Logan fought a very large man you didn't recognize, Wade fought a Doc Ock, Gambit took on a group of four, and Laura went for the big guy himself. Juggernaut.Â
You were paired with Azazel. The man zapping about, striking you and vanishing before you could catch him. It took his tail tripping you for you to land on your back and actually be in a good-visibility position. Quickly you trapped him in a forcefield. It was an intense battle of power. The field had been a bubble but you wrapped it around his appendages and forced him to stay in one spot. Forced him still. But he struggled. He fought against you, red mist seeping from the forcefield as he thrashed about.Â
You had trapped him but couldnât do anything to dispose of him. If you flung him away he would just reappear and it was getting noticed that you were distracted. Quickly you rose to your feet, arms still extended, shaking with brute force and out of the corner of your eye you could see her. She ran towards you and you dropped on hand flinging a force field in the shape of a disc - you had so eloquently named a forcedisc - at her. It sliced through her side but she didn't stop.Â
âEl!â You yelled, barely dodging the acid she spat. Your arms stayed extended in the same position but you managed to kick her in the chest as she took a deep breath. She spluttered, acid dripping down her face and landing on her shirt. Her skin was immune but the fabric burned.Â
Elektra spun to your call and nodded, having fought with you before she understood what was needed.Â
You moved Azazel over to her and Elektra stabbed him, your forcefield opening just as the sai made contact.Â
As you focused on the exact millisecond to release your palms, âacidgirlâ was able to choke you from behind. You conjured a muzzle over her mouth and held it there. Quickly plucking your knife out.Â
Killing wasn't exactly new to you but it always felt bad, no matter if the feeling got smaller and smaller each time. You still felt guilty as you thrust behind and stabbed her stomach.Â
Once you released the field her acid fell upon your shoulder. The suit fizzled and you were quick to pull the fabric from your skin. It still burned through but you pushed on.Â
âOit L/N!â Wade shouted over spinning cartoonishly across Logan's back to stab someone.Â
You hadn't realised how isolated you were compared to the others, you were right at the back of the group, by the car. You threw out some forcediscs holding them stationary and jumped on them, over the heads of those trying to kill you. You ran, ascending up, towards the skull, flinging a couple out for Wade and Logan. They were quick to follow your cue and you made sure they and you got to each eye socket.Â
They entered the right as you perched in the left, finding yourself at a much better position strategically.
Their plan was distraction. Yours was protection. You could do yours in your sleep. Quickly stopping a hammer landing on Elektra and misplacing a punch to Gambit.Â
You had gotten more powerful being here. You had to. Your forcefields were no longer merely for protection, they could now be used as a force. Similar to Jeanâs telekinesis except you were still using the forcefields, only they were now differently shaped, i.e. the ball that had knocked into the man's fist when he aimed for Gambit's face.Â
A gate fell to the floor, landing on the Honda, and a creature stalked out of it, dark claws crushing the car as though it was tissue paper.Â
You were quick to try and halt the thing. It was a humongous wolf? You couldn't be sure as it had two sets of eyes and three tails. It was clearly not from your version of earth.Â
âLet it go!â Blade yelled up, smiling wide. âI got this!âÂ
You obeyed his order and focused your energy on Laura. Who had just decapitated Juggernaut. That's my girl.Â
Quickly you flung multiple discs for her to jump onto, she was efficient as always and leapt towards the right eye socket when Psylocke's lasso yanked her back.
âLaura!â You screamed, instinctively opening a field around her head and closing your fist, crushing it - you'd never even thought to do that, never once occurred to use your power that way - just in time your baby tossed her backpack into the eye socket and it skidded across the marble floor and straight into Deadpool's awaiting hand.
You hadn't even noticed what was going on behind you. There was talking and now nothing. Sneaking a glance you saw Logan on his knees with Cassandra holding his cheeks. Her fingers disappeared into his skin, he was twitching slightly but she looked peaceful.Â
Wade quickly revealed the helm and tiptoed behind her.Â
âBOOM!â Gambitâs voice could be heard and then a series of much larger explosions than you were used to detonated.Â
You were brought back to the battle at hand and decided that maybe crushing heads was the way to go when you saved El, who had been cornered by two men.Â
Blade, having been fighting the beast, was currently sat on top of it and plunged a knife into its head. Downing the creature.Â
There actually wasn't an awful lot of enemies left to fight and you were feeling good about the outcome when you saw it.
Alioth.Â
The celestial dragon had its gaze set upon you. âGuys!â You called down. âAlioth is coming!âÂ
Realistically there wasn't anything you could do. You couldn't shield them from this. But perhaps Cassandra could? Did she save people from the dragon? Surely she didn't offer them up, right?
âGet inside!â You ordered and quickly turned to find Wade holding her firmly with Juggernautâs helmet forced upon her.Â
Logan was talking to her and you jogged over.Â
âAlioth is coming.â You informed.Â
âI can't save you with this on my head.â She taunted.Â
âYou won't save us anyway!â Wade countered, âLogan, you want me to off her?â His fingers twitched near her neck.Â
âNo.â Logan shook his head.Â
âYou sure? I'm right here.âÂ
âIt's not what-Charles wouldn't want that. If he knew about you, my Charles, he would stop at nothing to come find you. To save you. He would've loved you.âÂ
You had known Cassandra for her reputation. She was the big cheese, she called the shots, she had an immense power and used it to do whatever she wanted. Everyone else were her playthings. But here, with the helm on, she looked small. She was tiny and thin and her eyes glossed over at Logan's words.Â
âMine, too.â You knew you didn't have to speak but you wanted her to know. That was the X-Man in you. Charlesâ influence. Everyone deserves help.Â
She looked at you and you felt as though she was looking into your very soul. Her eyes, even powerless, were weighty.Â
âWe can't release her, she'll kill us.â Wade reminded you. He wasn't wrong. What could you do? What should you do?Â
You didn't have the time to think of a plan. âWe need to hurry up, that monster is on its way.âÂ
A gunshot echoed through the skull as well as your own. You quickly forced a shield up, covering the four of you.Â
Pyro was behind it, pointing the weapon at Cassandra. Your eyes followed the angle to see she was beginning to bleed heavily from her stomach.Â
âI am tired of being her errand boy! 'Do this, get that', well no more!â He sauntered towards you all, the gun lowered to his side, you slowly eased the shield back as he spoke. âWhen is it my turn? First Magneto, then Apocalypse, Scarlet Witch and now Cassandra Nova!âÂ
When he was within range Logan silenced him with an efficient right hook. You know it hurt, because that man was heavy.Â
âNot everyone gets a speech.âÂ
Blood splurged from Cassandraâs mouth as she coughed. âShit!â Â
âWade, you have to take her helmet off.âÂ
âShe, again, will. Kill. Us.â He tightened his hold. âYou missed it, she said she'd ârub herself silly watchingâ a second ago!â
âShe's dying.â You argued.Â
Logan agreed, âshe needs her powers to help us, we're stuck here if she dies.âÂ
Wade let out a frustrated yell before he conceded and yanked the helmet off her. Her body fell to the floor as he let go and you were quick to help her.Â
âIt's okay, can you hea-â She was already up and standing, leaving you kneeling on the floor. âOh.âÂ
You stood to your full height and watched as she kicked Pyroâs body before addressing you. âA wizard came through here. He died and I got this.â She revealed a fancy ring. Causing Wade to gasp and say âstrangeâ. âYou saved me and I am curious to how this will play out...so I suppose I can get you back, but you better hurry. As your friend mentioned, Alioth is coming.âÂ
Cassandra raised her arms and spun a circle, forming a physical one as she did. It crackled and sparked and in the centre was a street. There were cars and houses and people. It was home. Or a version of a home.Â
It was civilisation.Â
After all this time you could smell it.Â
âGo on.â She nodded towards the âportalâ.Â
Logan grasped your hand and you were tempted. By god you were.Â
But Gambit, Elektra, Blade and Laura. Your Laura who you had to help with her periods and hygiene; Laura who came into your room when she had a bad dream; Laura who had offered to help feed Blade - in a similar fashion that Logan did - because she âhealedâ and didn't want you guys to suffer.Â
You pulled free from him. âI can't leave her.â Â
âY/N.â Logan tried again. âThis is your chance to escape!âÂ
âI won't leave her.â You clarified.Â
âI-âÂ
âGuys, chop chop!â Wade accentuated the words with a clap.Â
âSave the world and come back for me.â You offered lamely. It was a very long shot. But what else could you say? You knew he was here to save Deadpool's world, if it worked maybe you could all live there?
âI can't lea-âÂ
You pushed him away. âGo. I'll be here.âÂ
.
.
Part 4
#logan 2017#james logan howlett#logan x reader#logan howlett#logan#the wolverine#wolverine x men#wolverine#wolverine x reader#deadpool#deadpool 3#deadpool and wolverine
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smoke and ash
a/n: this is based entirely on a post made by the amazing @cavillscurls and i was given permission to write it for her cause the idea actually made my brain go numb. plus just the thought of this man having an oral fixation paired with someone who also has an oral fixation?? beautiful. filthy. spectacular. it's quickly written cause i had the inspo at the time and really didn't want to lose it. so enjoy!
summary: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.
word count: 1.4k+
pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, oral fixation, spit kink, choking, dry humping, desperate!logan, overstimulation, cigars, they're fucking messy, dirty talk.
A dark stain of saliva coated the base of a match as you sat sprawled on his leather couch. Your teeth dug into it, creating an indent that would last until you decided it was time to strike the phosphorus and let it burn down. Sometimes they snapped. Other times you tossed them in the trash. Tonight you were intent on lighting it upâsolely for the cigar currently stuffed in between his own lips.
He sucked at the end thoughtfully most nights. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, a book he'd read a hundred times over propped in one handâwhiskey in his other. Half of it was already burnt through. Used within the span of a few days before stubbed out and saved.
âInteresting story?â
The soft hum was all he offered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the lines even though he could recite the words from memory. The pages were worn from use, spine cracked every which way, and you often considered buying him a new copy. If just to give the story a chance to breathe in his mind. Sink beneath the depths of memories that still floated along the surfaceâseeking to ruminate in the cracks of chaos.
âLogan.â
âBub?â
âWhat does it taste like?â
At last he looked up, eyebrows lifted and fingers moving to drag the sticky wet cigar out of his mouth. âThis?â
You nodded. âGood or bad orâŚâ
âBetter than those fuckinâ matches,â he scoffed, pointedly glaring at the splintered wood between your teethâa nervous habit you had yet to kick. âCâmere and find out.â
Scrambling off the couch a bit too quickly, you found yourself perched in his lap, legs straddling his hips with a smile painted across your lips. He removed the match, flicking it into the discarded ashtray with contemptâhappy to have your mouth empty and waiting. Only to place the soaked butt against your tongue, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip at the sight. You always imagined what the flavor resembled. Until it finally dawned on you.
This is how it tasted to kiss him. The bitter tang of the cigar muted by the flavor of the whiskey he drank and the mints he chewed in his spare time. You sucked on the remnants of his saliva, your mind lighting up at the feel of it. Of having something stuck between your lips, a thing you could fixate on.
âTasteâs like me donât it?â
You nodded, shifting against his body as the first spark of heat began to slowly meld with the rest of your senses.
âGood girl,â he mumbled, the book forgotten to the side in favor of his hand sliding along your throat, thumb catching just beneath your chin. âSuck on it harder yeah? Want it to taste like ya when I smoke it again.â
A whine cracked in the back of your throat, your hips catching on the zipper of his jeans. âWhat about you?â
The mumbled words caused spit to drool down to your chin, his eyes tracking the slide of it with a heavy gaze. He wanted to lick it up. Swallow down what you offered. But the sight kept him transfixedâyour tongue sliding along the end of the cigar as if it were his cock. Soaking it in your taste enough to drive him a bit closer to the edge, his other hand suddenly a harsh grip on your ass.
âI got what I need,â he replied with ease. âYeah?â
You nodded, catching the glaze of desire in his dilated pupils. He wanted more than an empty mouth. The cigars appeased a side of him no one saw, a man who ached for something to bite down on, someone to taste even in the most mundane of ways. He was your guard dog looking to chew, to gnaw, even if spit flew out of his mouth with a feral edge of desperation. And with a grin, you stuffed three fingers into his mouth right down to the knuckle.
He took them with a moan, tongue laving over the length of them as his hips bucked up into yours. The hot cavern of his mouth and wet slide of his tongue drew out a sound you never knew you could make. A biting grunt that made spit fly everywhere, splattering against his cheek to mix with his own.
Ripping the cigar from your mouth, you hastily licked around his full mouth. âSuck harder for me baby.â
They met the back of his throat, choking him enough to force his head back. His eyes rolled, nostrils flared, and for a moment you felt the power dynamic shift. You were in charge. Telling him what to do to appease the ache of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach. And it might have lasted. He very well could have given you complete submission if it werenât for the lack of the cigar in your mouth.
A growl rumbled up from his chest, eyes flashing dark enough to send a thrill down your spine, and before you could fix your mistake he rectified it for you. Three fingersâto match your ownâwere pushed harshly against your tongue, hooking behind your teeth to drag your face closer to his. You didnât need to hear him to know what he wanted.
The intent blazed in his hazel eyes well enough: suck.
Through the haze of wanton lust you felt his hand begin to guide your hips along his crotch. The bulge of his cock straining against denim, pushing the metal zipper up for your clit to catch on each time. Clad in his flannel and cotton panties, you found yourself plummeting towards the burning ache that built faster than you could comprehend.
You ripped your hand from his mouth, burying the spit soaked fingers into his hair to grip him close. But it never remained enough. He wanted to delve beneath your skin. Seek the warmth that seeped from your body where his fingers kneaded and pushed to drag you to a fro. His teeth latched onto your shoulder, the sweater pulled to the side while his fingers met the back of your throat, choking you with their size.
A cry slipped past his knuckles as you humped his clothed cockâdragging yourself inch by inch towards the release you could practically taste. It clung to the tip of your tongueâthe saccharine flavor intertwined with the tobacco musk of his fingers. You swallowed around them, drool spilling down your throat and pooling at the top of your breasts.
âThatâs it,â he gasped, a line of bites trailing right to the juncture of your neck, his spit smeared across your skin. âGonna cum for me?â
You whined harshly, body going taut as your clit pulsed rapidly with the impending wave of bliss that tugged sharply on your spine. The pain of his teeth puncturing hard enough to draw blood dragged a knife through the thin strand of resistance. And you came with his name at the back of your throat and white bursting behind tightly shut eyelids.
âYes. Fuckââ His growl ran down the length of your spine, body trembling in his tight grasp. âThatâs my girl.â
Unconsciously your nails punctured the skin at the back of his neck and with a jolt, he groaned long and ragged against your throat. A dark wet patch formed beneath his jeans as you soaked him with a spit filled cry. The pleasure wrung your body dry, pulling the final dregs of your energy straight from the source. Your chest heaved, mouth a gentle suckle at the very base of his fingers, and Logan could feel you begin to collapse forward into his chest.
âYou really like when your mouth is filled,â he mused, lips curling into a smile.
Nodding, your voice was a content humâhis fingers dragging at the back of your teeth, tracing their shape. A kiss was pressed to your head, body slumping further into the chair with you atop him.
âGonna get you some more matches in the morninâ,â he mumbled lazily. âMy pretty girl needs a treat for being so good.â
Your heart fluttered, eyes glistening with the devotion youâd never dare to hide. The love that burned with the power of an eternal flame. Settling into his body, you felt his hand drag along the expanse of your thigh. Calming the storm in his mindâa catastrophe you longed to weather with him.
You were the balm to his weathered soul.
A permanent fixation of smoke and ash that surrounded his charred and splintered heart that burned for you.
#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#my writing
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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter three )
18+ 7.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, assault (not perpetrated by HL), violence, smol murder, manipulation/gaslighting, hurt/comfort. nebulously takes place post s1. part 3/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory
Homelander will do whatever it takes to convince you that he's the hero you need.
Itâs shortly after one oâclock when Homelander knocks a whimsical melody against your office door, deciding he shouldnât be precisely on time, lest he look as eager as he feels. He can already smell your perfume wafting through the doorwayâthe same scent he feverishly pumped his cock to the night beforeâas a teaser of whatâs to come.
âCome in,â you call from the other side.
Homelander takes in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He screws his eyes shut, pinching his expression in a tight squeeze before he replaces it with a flashy grin, squaring away his anticipation in favor of his showman persona.
âGoooooood afternoon,â he drawls, strolling in with the same feigned level of confidence heâs entered every other moment of your life since stumbling across you, whether you knew it or not. Heâs taken aback almost immediately, slowing in how he closes the door behind him.
You look nicer than usual. Your hair is styled with more conscious effort, and heâs been in show business long enough to recognize the makeup on your face. The shine of your blouse is a quality silk blend, and he canât hear the scrape of cheap cotton underneath it anymore. No, youâre wearing something nice below, too. His lips slowly spread into a self-satisfied smile.Â
You dressed up for him.Â
Homelander takes the seat set across from you, sweeping his cape to the side with a flourish. He watches you tuck an empty containerâyour lunch, presumablyâinto a side drawer of your desk. His eyes closely track the way you lift your thumb to the corner of your mouth and swipe residue from it, sucking the mess from your digit. A distinct pang of arousal hits him just watching your cheeks hollow.
Imagine what she could do with that mouth.
âAnd good afternoon to you, Homelander,â you respond, straightening up in your seat. His gaze briefly dips to the swell of your breasts as you adjust yourself, casually dusting away any remnants of your lunch. Saliva gathers on his tongue at the instant memory of you scantily clad in your sleep wear, nothing but a thin sheet of worn fabric between you and his hunger. His eyes snap back up before you can take notice of how they wandered.
Lucky for him, youâre busy splaying out the folder he brought you the day before, scanning over the list of bullet points heâd slapped together for the sake of having enough talking points.
âI wanted to start with your concerns regarding the marketing for your upcoming miniseries,â you say, glancing up at him.
He clicks his tongue. âWow, alright. Straight to business then,â he says, absently rolling his palms over the ends of the armrests on either side of him.
âIâm very bad at small talk,â you say. Probably to diffuse any notion that you were being rude on purpose.
âChâyeah, Iâll say,â he says, smiling thinly. âLucky that youâre good at your job.â
âShockingly, I was actually a personality hire. I donât know what any of this means,â you say, matching his thinly veiled snark while gesturing to the spread of documents in front of you. He snorts softly. You have a knack for using that sharp wit to diffuse, but he doesnât feel manipulated. You actually are funny. âI was hoping youâd explain your concerns.â
Smooth segue, he thinks, his eyes narrowing appraisingly. Heâs worked enough interviews to know when heâs being led, but he takes the bait anyways, widening his smile.
âSounds great.â
Homelander knows that youâre sharp, good at your job, but he needs to needle you into giving him what he wants. He wants to understand you, and the stack of his films he found hidden in your apartment. What he gets in the meantime is ample taste of your silver tongue, parrying his every jab with an equally sharp counter.
He canât keep the smile from his face.
Gradually a level of familiarity slips into the air between you. He can see some of that tension in your shoulders easing. Heâs steadily wearing down the walls youâve managed to construct.
âI still think audiences will be confused,â he says, feigning a profound concern, stretching out the time of your little appointment.
âWell, audiences are a lot like celebrities,â you say, the hard candied shell of your professional exterior thinning with every back and forth, poised to crack at any second. âTheyâre smarter than we think they are.â
âOohh, ouch,â he purrs. âNice backhand you got there.â
A twitch at the corner of your mouth. He knows youâre fighting a smile of your own, and pride blooms warmly in his chest. He likes sparring with you, but he likes pleasing you even more.
âI disagree about market confusion. Your diehard audience will already be up to speed, your broader target audience will show up for anything with your face on it, and anyone more casual than that likely wonât have seen the miniseries anyways, so thereâs nothing to confuse it with,â you say, scanning down through one of the pages of the document he gave you.
Perfect opening.
âAnd which audience is it you fall into, exactly?â He asks, cocking his head a degree. âI mean, given your position, I have to imagine youâve seen my range of film and television.â
âIâve done my due diligence,â you say vaguely. Youâre good at answering without answering. Normally it would irritate him, but your forced aloofness combined with your closely guardedâand inexplicably secretâveneration of him makes it into tantalizing bait begging for the sharp sink of his teeth.
âSo youâve seen all my movies, then?â He extrapolates, setting a line of his own.
You chuckle, gaze flickering to him before back down to the pages. Too brief a glance to even come close to satisfying his hunger. âI didnât say that.â
He scoffs lightly. âBut youâre a fan of mine?â
âI definitely didnât say that.â He can sense heâs hit a vein, and like any good predator would, heâs eager to bite into it.
âCâmon. Donât tell me youâre shy,â he continues to prod, leaning forward slightly in his seat.
You inhale a breath that you barely prevent from sounding too obviously irritated. His grin remains untarnished by the scrutiny of your unwavering stare. There it is, thatâs what he wants. The weight of your gaze upon him, evaluating, taking him in fully. He doesnât care how he gets it, he just knows he wants it.
âYou are shy,â he accuses, knowing you arenât.
âIâm not shy, Iâm a professional,â you say curtly, the scratch of your pen scathing while you write notations on the document.
Good, he thinks. More likely to slip up now.
âJeeze,â he laughs. âYouâre wound up tighter than my fictional manager in Darkest Day.â
âYou didnât have a manager in Darkest Day, that was Origins,â you correct. After a beat, your hand stills.
Homelanderâs gaze slowly slides to meet yours. He watches your face fall and clicks his tongue. He positively relishes how your mask of indifference slips into subtle dismay at your misstep. Such a simple bit of trivia, and yet it spoke volumes.
Gotâcha.
âYou do watch my movies,â he said, tone dropping to a near whisper. He revels in the quiet way you groan, leaning back in your chair.Â
âOnly the ones I was paid to,â you say, straightening up in your chair, but he can hear the defeat in your voice.
âLiar,â he says through his perpetual grin. âDonât be embarrassed. How long have you been a fan?â
âStop,â you say, burying your face in your hands. Oh, this is good. Was he your first crush? Your favorite hero? He must be still, judging by the flush of heat moving through you. All that pretense, all that haughty glowering, and beneath it all youâre a fan girl. He almost laughs at the thought of the face youâd make if he called you that.Â
âWhich was your favorite?â He asks, burying the knife deeper, eager to cut through flesh and muscle and bone to get to the heart of truth beneath. âBright World? Rise of a Hero? Justice Dawning?â
âI despise you,â you say melodramatically, digging your thumbs into your temples. âAlso, Justice Dawning was cheesy, Iâm offended youâd even offer it.â You try not to smile, but it happens anyway, and as soon as that secret little smile sneaks onto your lips it brightens Homelanderâs eyes, reflecting your amusement back to you. Not just that, but amplifying it.
âYouâll learn to love me,â he tells you with confidence. You drop your hands, looking at him with subtle surprise. He holds your gaze. The earnestness of his words seems to dispel your mortification and replaces it with something more difficult to define, but he likes the shine it brings to your eyes.
The taste of your defeat is sumptuous. Heâd prefer licking it straight from your tongue, but heâll settle for this for the time being. An easiness settles into the air between you, deeper even than before your hackles rose with the lurking reality of your hidden opinion of him. Itâs like a bubble has popped, dissipating uncomfortable tension, replacing it with something warmer.
He has every intention of turning up the heat even further.
The meeting moves forward. You work your way through his folder, and during a natural lull in conversation, he finally broaches the topic thatâs been plaguing him since he stepped into your office.
âSo,â he begins, interlacing his gloved fingers in his lap. âGonna tell me what youâre all dressed up for?â He asks, wearing the same smile and speaking in the same tone he had when he baited you into admitting your secret love affair with his cinema.
He wants to hear you say that itâs for him, but heâll settle for a flustered deflection. Theyâre as good as the same.
âOh,â you huff with an airy little laugh, the sound like silver bells chiming. âI have a date tonight.â
You say something else, but Homelander doesnât hear it over the tidal-like rush in his ears. He watches your pretty lips form words that he canât understand. Everything falls out of focus as he tightly reins in the white hot rush of furious jealousy that floods his gut and erupts up the back of his throat like bile. He swallows the burn of it, jaw tight, and manages a tense smile.
âGreat,â he barks, not realizingâor perhaps not caringâthat he interrupted you. âFirst date?â
âFirst date,â you confirm, your tone less conversational than it had been a beat ago. The walls are going back up, but heâs too fixated on what feels like a stabbing betrayal.
âExciting,â he says, adjusting his tone and mannerisms until they once more resemble something genuine. Something civil, despite the hostility in his gut. âSomeone you know? Going anywhere special?â
âNo, and not really,â you say evasively. He loathes how withdrawn youâve become. You should be pleased heâs put off. Gloating even. Itâs proof he cares, isnât it? âIt was his suggestion.â His. The leather of Homelanderâs glove creaks subtly in the fist he makes. âI forget the name of the place,â you say, avoiding his gaze.
His right cheek tics. Liar, liar, pants on fire. People always underestimate his ability to read them.
Youâll learn not to lie to him.
âBut you have an out if you need it, donât you? Someone to bail you out in case he turns out to be some kind of freak,â he says, huffing the word with a lick of venom. It takes significant effort to keep the disdain from his face to imagine you as you are now sitting across from some nobody schmuck, lit by candlelight and smiling sweetly for them instead of for him.
âI always do,â you say, smiling thinly. He curates his own tone often enough to hear it in yours, and it pierces his ears like a thistle. He taps his fingers on his thigh, scrounging for something, anything else to needle you for, but your responses donât give him much to work with.
âWell. If you did need someoneââ
âIâm a big girl,â you interrupt, surprising him. Heâs rarely interrupted. âI can take care of myself.â
At that, a thought strikes him. The slack line of his lips curls into a thin smile, and his hands relax on the armrests of the chair.
âIâm sure you can.â
Shaking off the aftermath of your one-on-one with Homelander proves to be more difficult than youâd anticipated. You replay it nearly moment for moment in your mind while freshening up after work.Â
Homelander has an uncanny knack for moving through demeanors as though heâs trying hats, determining which one best suits the situation. One moment heâs a slick carnivore licking his chops in anticipation of his meal to come, and the next heâs every ounce the hero they market him as. Heâd been relentlessly charming during the meeting, his charismatic smile becoming one youâd wanted to earn again and again.Â
Then came the news of your date, and all at once Homelander possessed the ominous calm of a sentient statue. The moment still sends an eerie chill down your spine, even in recollection. How radically his appearance can change with mood or thought alone. Youâd hate to ever see him truly angry.
âGet a hold of yourself,â you say to the bathroom mirror. You have a date tonight, and the last thing you need is to bring this kind of nervous energy to it. Powers or not, the commonality of man is easy to rely on, and youâve developed the tactical mindset of an aloof cat. Never beg for what can be given freely. Never give more than you get. Never settle. âBe the cat,â you tell yourself affirmatively.Â
A directive which, unfortunately, winds up being exceedingly easy to follow through the course of your date. James, bless his heart, struggles to wring more than the occasional piteous chuckle from you. Conversation with him is akin to drinking seltzer waterâhe is neither offensive nor particularly exciting, being only a step above plain water.
Perhaps Jamesâ blandness isnât entirely his own fault, but rather the basis of comparison he is subjected to. Throughout the night, you find yourself critical of the way he looks at youâor rather, the way he fails to look at you. Your thoughts keep drifting back to your meeting with Homelander and the way he looks at you. The intense ocean-blue caress of his eyes summons a blush to your cheeks even in hindsight.
He looks at you in a way that no one else does. It's as if he's trying to memorize the smallest details in your skin, to uncover every secret trapped behind your guarded gaze. He has a stare determined to lay you entirely bare to him.
Jamesâ wine dulled ogling could hardly hold a candle to that. Looking into his eyes, you see only the planning for whatever dullard comment he was going to make next.
Still, itâs not until the end of your dateâan exceptionally long two and a half hours thanks to a mishap with your orderâthat James displays a behavior unsavory enough to elicit a truly unpleasant feeling in you. Heâs quite clingy after a few too many glasses of wine. He walks you out of the restaurant with an arm around your waist, and more than once you have to bat his hand away from the seam where your blouse is tucked into your skirt.
âYou in the parking garage or the back lot?â He asks, smiling in a way he must mean to be salacious, eyes half-lidded like heâs lost control of them.
âThe back lot.â Parking was a nightmare with how late you arrived after work. âIs that where you are?â You ask, hoping it isnât.
âNo, no, I actually took an Uber in,â he says, and you know immediately by the way he starts tapping your hip with his index finger why he chose to do that.
âWant me to wait for you here until your Uber arrives, then?â You ask, turning out of his grasp to stand face to face with him outside of the restaurant. Itâs late enough now that the streets have calmed some, at least by New Yorkâs standards.
Jamesâ expression falters, but he tries for a recovery with a hopeful smile. âWell, you know, I was sort of hoping we might continue this elsewhere,â he says, slipping his hands into his pockets. Is he trying to look suave?
âOh, no,â you say, putting forth your very best sympathetic head tilt, matched with a well placed brow furrow. âNo thank you.â
This time his expression doesnât recover. His hands lift from his pocket and he makes a helpless gesture with them, very nearly pleading. âReally? I thought we were having a nice time.â
âAnd Iâm so glad for that,â you say, and even you can hear the corporate edge sliding into your tone, which doesnât seem to soothe him any. âBut itâs for the best that we part ways here, James. Thanks for your time.â
âButââ Your inarguable dismissal staggers him. He gropes for recourse. âI paid,â he blurts out, which proves to be his final mistake.
Your polite facade drops. âFor what?â His booze addled panic shifts into confusion. âFâŚFor dinner, but I didnât meanââ
âAnd that entitles you to fuck me?â No sense in mincing words now.
His expression morphs again, this time into mortification. âNo! No, butââ
âYou thought this would be a transaction? God, and here I was thinking your gravest flaw would be how mind-numbingly boring you are. But to be boring and stupid?â You scoff, waving a dismissive hand. âGoodnight, James,â you say, the kindest dismissal you can muster. You turn on your heel before he can sour the evening any further, and luckily for him, he doesnât pursue you further.
Unbelievable. As if you hadnât offered to split the check. As if he expected it to be a transaction that he cashed in your bed. As if the cost of dinner was worth anything more than a polite smile from you. As if.
New York doesnât sleep, but it does grow very, very dark. Youâre on a narrow street, not an alley exactly, but not a main road, either. Still riled up, you bring up the parking app on your phone as you walk, swiping through to get ready to pay for your crummy back lot space. A clatter brings your attention up, and thatâs when you see themâtwo men. One wearing a black leather jacket, the other with a kerchief slung around his throat.Â
You stop walking, caught between turning around, which would mean putting your back to the men up ahead, or continuing forward, which would mean passing within armâs reach. They havenât noticed you yet, or at least theyâre pretending not to, but now they look right at you and smile.
The men donât look dangerous, not like they do in the movies, but you know that means nothingâplenty of the worst people in the world looked safe. Yet the longer you stay put, the more you sense the ill intent wafting off of them like cheap cologne. âHey, baby,â says one of them, moving toward you. âYou lost?â
âNo,â you say curtly, taking a step back. âNot lost. Excuse me.â
âYou sure? Weâre real good with directions,â says the second man, leering. Your eyes snap between them, phone clutched tight in your hand. âYâlook like you could use some.â
âNo,â you say again, louder. How loud would you need to be for anyone to hear you over the sounds of the streets? Panic swells in your throat.
You donât know how they got so close so quickly, but as you turn to run, a hand catches your collar. The guy in the leather jacket wrenches you back against him, one arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your phone clatters to the ground.Â
âHey now, whatâs the rush?â He asks, yanking you backwards. âGet off me,â you snarl, but heâs squeezing you tightly across the chest, making it hard to think, let alone breathe. You struggle until you feel something hard dig into your hip. A knife? No. You realize coldly that itâs a gun, the handle of it jutting out from his waistband and digging into you. In a desperate bid, you twist in his grip, trying to grab it.
âCareful,â says the other one, moving in front of you, closing in. âSheâs got spirit.â
You kick out at the other guy but he jumps back, laughing at you. Theyâre both laughing, relishing in your fear. Your fingers skim the gun, but you canât quite get it.
The first manâs breath is hot and sour on your cheek. âCome on, now, letâs have some fun.â You slam your head back into his noseâor try to, but you only manage to clip his chin. Still, you hit bone, hear the crack of a tooth, and just like that youâre free, stumbling to your hands and knees as the man reels. You hit the ground hard, the shock of landing lancing pain through your arms and legs. The gun tumbles from his waistband. Without thinking twice you lunge for it, fingers successfully closing around the grip right before one of the men grabs your ankle and pulls.
The street bites into your elbows and scrapes your knee bloody as you twist around and raise the gun, barrel leveled at the manâs heart. âLET GO!â You scream, heart hammering against your chest. âOh shit,â says the man in the kerchief, eyes wide at seeing you armed, but the other one sneers at you, blood spilling from his mouth. Thereâs fury in his eyes, and the unmistakable intent to hurt you. âYou ever held a gun that big, baby?â
âLet go,â you say again, voice firmer than the tremble of your hands. Your finger flexes on the trigger.
âYou even know how to use it?â He asks, using his grip on your ankle to pull himself over you, his other hand falling to your thigh. He gives a pointed squeeze as he lifts himself up to tower above you. He reaches to take hold of you again, but you wonât let him. Canât let him.
âYes.â You squeeze the trigger as you say it, bracing for the recoil, the bang. Itâs always so loud in the movies.
Nothing happens. You panic, looking at the weapon in your hands in dull shock. The safety isnât on. You pull the trigger again, but the chamber rings hollow. It isnât loaded. You look up at the man as his shadow falls over you. He bares his teeth at you, painted an ugly dark red with the blood spilling from his mouth. The man laughs, a short barking sound, and knocks the gun from your hands with a harsh slap. It goes skidding away.
âStupid bitch,â he says, raising his boot as if you were an oversized bug, something to crush. You close your eyes and scream as he brings it down hard.
Or at least, he started to, but his leg locks up halfway, and then he topples, a single horrifying sound leaking from his clenched teeth. Your eyes open just in time to see his body hit the ground, a smoldering wound smoking from his chest. An instant later, the second man falls. This time you see the flash of crimson light that drops him.
Homelanderâs cape billows in the wind with all the majesty of the flag itâs designed after as he descends from the sky. He lands in front of you, backlit by the distant street lights that give him an artificial glow. Heâs beautiful, a perfectly manufactured angel delivered straight from some market tested Heaven.
âHey, you hurt?â He asks, reaching for you.
Awestruck, all you can do is stare at his outstretched hand. Tears well in your eyes. Shock is setting in the aftermath of all that adrenaline in your veins crashing your system. Through the blur of your tears, Homelanderâs expression shifts from concern to that of determination.
âItâs alright, Iâm here now. They canât hurt you,â he says, bringing your arm around his neck while he slips his own around your waist, effortlessly lifting you from the ground. Before your gaze can drift to the corpsesâwhose burning flesh you can smell mingling with the acrid city airâHomelander rotates, taking them from your line of sight.Â
With a flourish, he unhitches his cape from his shoulders and swings the fabric over yours. It settles on you heavier than you expected it to be, and impossibly warm. Moving back in, Homelader readily takes you back into his arms. He cradles you in his embrace, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other drawing lines up and down your back.
You try to choke out a sound, to ask him, how? How did he find you? How did he know you needed him? But none of the noises you make form any actual words. Your throat is too tight, and your tongue feels too big for your mouth, gnarled silent by panic. Everything is just too much. Your breaths only grow sharper as tears burn hot streaks down your face.
âSssshhhhhhh,â he shushes by your ear, lifting you just enough to keep you on your feet, but take the weight of your body from you. His hold is compressive, but not oppressive. It takes everything you have left to lift your other arm around his neck while the sobs overtake you. He continues to hush you, whispering a menagerie of honeyed assurances in your ear, the core sentiment always the same.
Iâve got you. Youâre safe now. I wonât let anyone hurt you.
You cry harder, coiling your arms tighter around his neck. He lets you cling to him, lets you sob away your makeup and soak the collar of his suit with the mess of it.
You donât know how much time passes in your addled state of panic, but eventually your breaths begin to even out, though your heart continues to thunder. Your body isnât convinced that the danger has vanished yet, eager to turn to flight now that your fight has gone.
âThatâs it, just like that,â Homelander praises. âBreathe. Breathe. Good⌠Light as a feather now, okay? Like you can fly,â he tells you. The weightlessness you feel in his arms helps the idea, helps you to feel like you arenât being crushed by the terrible weight of such a moment of horror. Thatâs all it had been, a momentâtwo at mostâand yet the torment of it had felt hours long. Exhaustion falls over you in the wake of adrenaline, and youâre glad for Homelanderâs arms around you. You doubt youâd be standing without them.
âHome,â you manage to croak. âPlease.â You can still smell the manâs sour breath, the memory even more powerful than the stench of reality.
âI can take you home,â he coos, maintaining that same soothing tone of comfort. âIs that what you want?â
You nod, focusing instead on the vetiver fresh smell of him. Youâve never been near enough to him before to notice it, but now you fixate on it. Anything to drown out the stink of the alley. He smells so much cleaner, like fresh linen drying over green grass in the summer sun.
His arms flex around you before he adjusts them, lifting you smoothly into his arms. Your stomach flips the way it does when you go down a hill in the backseat of a car, gravity loosening its hold on you. You can feel the motion all around you, the wind ghosting over you, but Homelander himself feels motionless against you.
Flying. Heâs flying. And so are you.
His cape shields you from the night air bite, pulled snug around you and secured where your bodies are pressed together. You havenât felt like this since you were a child, cradled with such care and strength that feels beyond your comprehension. Homelander serves as both place and personâsomewhere safe, someone kindâand you tuck yourself closer into the sanctuary of his arms, hands fisted in the protective fabric of his cape.
âIâve gotâcha,â he assures you, voice warm in your ear.Â
Without a shadow of a doubt, you believe him.
Homelander doesnât need to ask where you live. Itâs an easy detail to brush off if you question him. He doubts you will with the way youâre clinging to him, though. You feel good in his arms, settling so naturally against the contours of them he might convince himself you belong here. He doesnât mind your weeping when it comes with your arms around him, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck.
A small shiver rolls down his spine.
Of all the ways Homelander expected the evening to unfold, he hadnât properly anticipated you. While he cradles you, he replays again and again the moment you were snatched. You fought without hesitation. You wrenched the gun free. The fierceness in your eyes as you aimed it had been exquisite. The resolve in your gaze as you fired it even more so.
Heâd known you were confident, but that kind of clawing survival can only be learned of a person in action. Heâs known many supposedly strong peopleâsupe and human alikeâwho walk as stone giants, but shatter like glass when faced with any real danger.
You couldnât have known that you werenât in any real danger. You couldnât have known that heâd told those thugs to scare you, but not hurt you. You couldnât have known heâd ensured the gun wasnât loaded. You fought as though it was for your life, and it enthralled him.
He hadnât planned on killing them in front of you. They would have been loose ends to tie up after his heroic rescue, but somewhere along the line that stupid bastard lost the thread. He hurt you, bloodied those pretty knees of yours, and he moved to strike you. To grind you beneath his heel as if you were the vermin instead of him. For thatâand for so flagrantly going against Homelanderâs own direct orderâyou witnessed his downfall.
As far as heâs concerned now, everything happened precisely as it needed to. Youâre in his arms now, and heâs still half hard from witnessing you choose fight when your instincts kicked in. Youâre too fragile to choose it so readily. Your bones feel bird-like compared to the scope of his strength. Hollow and brittle. You would make for a hell of a supe, though.
Still, he wonât break you. Heâs spent his entire life learning what it takes to snap bones like party favors, and more crucially, what it takes not to. Yours are safe from him. In fact, youâre the safest person in the whole world now.
Homelander glides down to a soft landing on your driveway. Your car will be an issue for another time. For now, he walks you to your front door before gently placing you on your feet.
âBelieve this is you, young lady,â he says, leaving space for plausible deniability. If it occurs to you to interrogate him about it, it doesnât show on your face. With hands still softly trembling, you fish your keys out of your purse. He watches you fumble with them for only a moment before he steps in behind you, one hand gripping your upper arm to steady and pause you while the other covers your shaking hand, helping you to slide the key into the lock and turn it.
Your hand fits nicely in his.
âThanks,â you whisper. Itâs the first thing youâve said since asking him to take you home. He takes the liberty of opening the door for you while heâs at it, swinging it wide to allow you in. You grab his forearm, and he thinks youâre only balancing yourself, but when you donât let go he steps with you, letting you lean on him as you guide him into your home. He closes the door behind the two of you, smiling to himself.
He may not need an invitation to enter, but itâs charming to have one.
Your movements are stiff, a slight limp to your gait. You fell hard, and the delicate flesh of your knee had ripped apart against the concrete when you were dragged. You hesitate at the stairs, but Homelander doesnât. You inhale sharply when he scoops you back up into his arms with ease and starts up the stairs. He keeps his gaze ahead, but he can feel yours on him.
âThanks,â you say again, the word barely more than a hiccup, adjusting his cape over yourself like a blanket.
âItâs what heroes are for.â He smiles. Itâs a party line, one heâs said a hundred thousand times before, but you make him mean it. This is what heroes are for. To be worshiped and loved, understood deeper than pop stars and false idols like them. Thereâs a reverence in your stare that transcends the vapid starstruck way most people look at him. You understand now. You know how much more he is.
He brings you to your bedroom and sets you on the edge of the bed, adjusting his cape back up over your shoulders. Youâve scarcely let go of it since he wrapped you in it. Will you sleep with it tonight? He bets you will. The thought sends a pleasant tingle through him.Â
âAlright, letâs get a look at those knees,â he says, crouching in front of you. Thereâs blood running down your left shin. He lifts the edge of your skirt hem just enough to catch a glimpse of shredded skin. It looks rough, dirty and embedded with bits of debris. He blows out a breath. âGot a first aid kit?â
You nod numbly. âUnder the bathroom sink.â
Itâs odd to see you so subdued. He forgets sometimes that you humans can be as emotionally fragile as you are physically. Surely the death of two measly thugs isnât enough to break you.
Rising, he moves to your bathroom. He feels slightly unbalanced without the sway of his cape behind him, the garment as integral to his physicality as any limb. He rummages through until his hand lands on a bright red fabric pack with a zipper. He gives it a little toss and catches it, bringing it back to you, alongside a wetted towel. He gives the pack a victorious little shake.
âHâokay, down to business.â Homelander kneels before you, splaying open the kit and placing it on your lap. Heâs never used one of these before, but heâs pretended to do it on set. How different can it be? He cups your leg, thumb absently smoothing back and forth on your skin while he uses the towel to gently wipe up the blood, dirt and debris from your shin and knee.
You flinch, tense a moment before you relax. âHomelander, you really donât have toââ
âAm I doing a bad job?â He asks, glancing up at you through his lashes. Thereâs a playful lilt to his voice.
âI didnât mean it like that,â you say, the smallest hint of exasperation in your voice. Heâs pleased to hear it. Perhaps youâre less wilted from the encounter than he thought. âI just mean that I canââ
âI know you can,â he says, and this time he definitely sees a flare of annoyance. You donât like being interrupted any more than he does, but you donât protest further. He smiles, triumphant, and focuses back on the task at hand, petting you the same way one might soothe a wild animal.
Thereâs a novelty in doing this for real that he hadnât anticipated. Itâs entirely unlike wiping away congealed red corn syrup from an actor. Your skin is sweeter, softer. He suddenly resents his gloves for the barrier they provide, despite his usual reliance for that very thing. Heâs meticulous in flicking out the little stones embedded in your skin, spotting each one with ease.
Next, he tears open the alcohol wipes with his teeth and uses them to disinfect, rubbing at the sores. You flinch, sucking in a loud breath through your teeth. âOopsy-daisy,â he says, switching to gently patting. He has no real concept of what youâre feeling right now. Heâs never had a scraped knee before. The scientists at Vought had to get much more creative in order to gauge his capacity for healing.
He imagines they were disappointed to realize that, once damaged, he healed as slowly as a human.
âHowâd you find me?â You ask, snapping him out of his unpleasant reminiscence. Your shock seems to have worn off entirely. You look more present, alert to his every move.
âHeard you scream,â he answers simply, unraveling a roll of gauze. That much is true.
âBut how? How did you know where I was?â You push, watching him wind the white material around your knee.
âI didnât,â he lies smoothly. Heâs followed enough scripts in his life to do so very well. âIf Iâd known exactly where you were, I would have been there sooner. I was minding my business on 5th Avenue when I heard you. Familiar voices canâŚâ He makes a vague gesture. âCut through the din. Voices I want to hear.âÂ
He thinks he catches you flush at that. Just a touch. He bites back a smirk, pleased with himself. Does it matter if itâs true when it makes you look at him like that?
âI didnât know your hearing worked like that,â you say, fidgeting with the hem of his cape.
His gaze flickers up every so often to watch your finger pick at the seam, inexplicably charmed by it. âWell, thereâs some things not even a super fan can glean,â he teases, securing the gauze with tape. He expects to see a familiar indignation in your expression, but when he looks up, heâs caught off guard by the unmistakable fondness in your eyes.
âI was over the moon when I got my job at Vought,â you say quietly, like youâre whispering in a confessional. âI always wanted to work with heroes.â
âWith me?â He pushes, lifting his brows.
Very slightly, you smile. âYeah. With you.â
âBusted,â he says, his own voice equally soft.
You give him a little nudge with your foot. âGauze wonât stay by itself. Need to use a roll of self-adhesive wrap,â you say, plucking the beige roll from the kit. He likes the shy warmth in your voice. He would have done much worse to see this side of you. Have the intimacy of your pain, fear and relief all to himself. This glowing affection youâre so full of. He feels drunk on the cocktail of it all.
âRight, obviously,â he says, taking the wrapping from you. âI knew that.â
âProbably should have put a gauze pad under it, too,â you continue, eyes heavily lidded, expression soft.
âEveryoneâs a critic,â he laments, affixing the textured bandage around the gauze. You laugh, and the sound of it feels like a space he could belong in.
He checks your other knee, your elbows and your palms, but nowhere else on you calls for anything more than some antiseptic and a few bandaids. With the wrappings secure, he shuffles the mess of supplies haphazardly back into the kit, zipping it up much more bulging and misshapen a state than he found it in. He pushes it under the bed with the towel atop it, standing.
âGood as new. Or close to it,â he says, making a small show of dusting off his hands for a job well done.Â
You stand, letting his cape slide off of your shoulders for the first time since he put it on you, the fabric pooling on the bed. You step forward, and of all the things he expects in this moment, you blow them out of the water by suddenly wrapping your arms around him, the soft curves of your body slotting against his in a way that trips something primal and needy in him. He puts his arms around you the second the shock wears off, holding you with the barest fraction of his strength.
Tension drains from your body. Were you nervous he wouldnât reciprocate? Itâs an endearing thought. He gives a deeper, brief squeeze. He canât remember the last time someone held him.
âThank you,â you say after a long beat, drawing back. He reluctantly loosens his grip, but not by much. Heâs loath to relinquish you so soon after heâs gotten hold of you. âItâs not enough, but I donât know what could ever be.â
I could make a few suggestions, he thinks, but he doesnât give voice to the lewd thoughts that follow.
âIâll never forget what you did for me tonight,â you say. Your face is so near to his, it makes it difficult to focus on anything other than the curve of your lips as you speak.
Instead of responding, Homelander leans in, eyes falling shut.
âOh,â you say sharply, your soft body suddenly going tense in his arms, stopping him in his tracks. Both of your hands are braced against his chest now, creating a distance that feels craterous.Â
He blinks, brows furrowed in confusion. âWhat?âÂ
âIâm really tired,â you say, tone shifting to mild diffusion. It reminds him of the way you spoke to James, and his ego stings with both the rejection and the comparison. Heâd laughed listening to you reject that pathetic, simpering man. It seems less funny now.Â
He scoffs an incredulous little huff. But I saved you, he thinks, indignant panic flaring in his chest. To his dismay, however, the thought doesnât sound like his own voice. It sounds like Jamesâ.
But I paid!
Repulsed, Homelander swallows the thought like bile. If the comparison comes so readily to his own mind, thereâs no way you wonât make the connection yourself. He feels his skin prickle like there are fire ants crawling beneath his suit. The memory of Jamesâ pathetic begging is the only thing that keeps his composure together.
âOf course you are,â he says tightly. His smile is forced, slightly too wide. âYou should sleep. Rest up. Take the day off tomorrow,â he says stiffly, rattling off lines like theyâre pre-recorded. Only then does he surrender his hold on you, hands moving to his hips instead. You take a step back, and he stands straighter to disguise the sting of rejection.
âThank you,â you say, tone indecipherable. Itâs full to the brim with something, but nothing Homelander can parse in his current state. âIââ
âNo need,â he dismisses, jumping on the opportunity to end the conversation on his terms. âReally. Just doing my job,â he says, tossing you a little two-finger salute off of his brow, already moving towards your balcony door. You donât move, watching him from the foot of your bed, arms wrapped around yourself.
âCatch you at the office,â he says. He knows heâs speaking too quickly, but itâs all he can do to keep himself in check. Anger and misery broil in him like vinegar and baking soda, the caustic brew threatening to erupt.
âOkay,â you say, which isnât particularly what he wants to hear. He turns his back to you, and his smile drops, his ego violently stung. With a force that billows wind through your bedroom, he takes off into the night sky.
You just werenât ready, he tells himself, gritting his teeth. Itâs easier to be angry than embarrassed. He wants to make as much distance between himself and your rejection, flying higher and higher until frost begins collecting on his lashes. He flies until thereâs no sound, no oxygen, no life but his own. He flies until gravity releases him and he can finally relax, suspended by cold, vast space.
The earth glows beneath him, reflecting the light of the sun where it illuminates a distant portion of the globe.
Closing his eyes, he tips his head back.
Heâll fix this.
( chapter four )
#heavy breathing#icb i actually did it#tysm to everyone who let me scream and cry at them about this fic as i wrestled nonstop with it#homelander x you#homelander x reader#x reader#homelander fanfiction#yandere x reader#my writing
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sumn about dionysusâs daughter and percy being obsessed w each other irks be in so kind of way, can i req something about it???
I would come back from death for you .â ・â *â âĄ
â percy jackson x daughter of dionysus!reader
warnings: none, i think
a/n: ok, here comes my confession. I don't know if this is something that counts as "obsession" as such because there are different types of it. I wanted it to be a more tender or cute obsession. I don't know, maybe I'll explore more but with a darker side.
The emotion was devouring him from the inside out. He knew he would be leaving in a few days, and even though he'd rather fight Hades himself than give his life on a silver platter, Percy couldn't help struggle with the thought of not being in your arms again.
â I'll go with you â you said, even though you knew it wouldn't happen. â I don't mind dying with you if it's the only way to keep us together.
Really, he wouldn't mind too, but he knew he had to keep you safe. Dionysus would never forgive him if anything happened to you, and to be honest, neither would he. You'd stay; that was the right thing.
The best deal he could get for now was to be together as much as possible until the day came.
You didn't say it, but it had become an obsession for each other. barely at night could separate to go to your respective cabins, and of course, not counting those times when you or he would sneak away to spend more time together. Some campers watched, they knew what was going on but still turned a blind eye because who were they to judge? Besides, it suited them to maintain the discretion or Dionysus would truly be in a bad mood, as having Percy Jackson as a son-in-law was enough for him.
That night, you had already turned off the lights, only the moonlight accompanied you, and you let out a deep grunt that turned into a gasp when you heard a knock on your door, you squinted your eyes and then heard two more knocks, three in total.
Obviously it was Percy, and you quickly got up before anyone could see him in front of your cabin. As soon as you opened, he slipped in between the door and closed it by pressing his heel. When you smelled the worn sunscreen on the curve of his neck, you let out a sigh; it was as if during the time you hadn't been together, you had been slowly holding your breath, suffocating without him.
â I missed you â he murmured, squeezing your body a little tighter. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and leaned back to look at you.
â It's only been an hour since dinner, Pers â you said, and he smiled at the nickname taking your hand to walk with you towards your bed. in the end, you were the only one to sit on the edge of it because percy stayed watching your bedside things, fiddling with and looking at your makeup.
â I'm leaving tomorrow â he said, still with his back to you as he struggled to read the label of a lipgloss, the one that suited you so well and that he never feared smudging when he kissed you.
Your heart raced. âTomorrow? But...
â Things have changed, Chiron told me â Sadness and anger evident in his voice. Percy wanted to set the world on fire with Leo's help just because he hadn't had a couple more days with you. Instead, he took your perfume in his hands and brought it to his nose to smell it. Trying to imprint it in his memory, at least, until he returned and could smell it from your own body where it mixed with thousands of other scents resulting in your characteristic one. The one that drove him crazy.
That idea made him laugh, in fact you were the daughter of the man who could made men crazy with a snap of his fingers, so Percy believed you had done something similar to him, the only difference was that he was happy with it. He would jump blindfolded out of the grand canyon for you if you asked him to.
After a minute, he understood that your silence wasn't exactly a good thing, and he ran his fingers over the other beauty items on your wooden dresser, before turning towards you putting his weight on the dresser.
â Everything will be fine â he was convinced, but the tears threatening to fall from your eyes brought him to his knees before you, so quickly that you held back a sob seeing him on the floor raising his hands to caress your cheeks as if you were something religious that he was worshiping. Her turquoise eyes shone in the moonlight with empathy and they let you know that you had never felt that kind of religious love for which you would die until you had him.
Ugh, you were so in love with each other that it was ruthless to separate you even for just a little while.
You bent down to kiss him, and he stretched his neck to reach your lips desperately, without wanting to lose any piece of you.
âIt will take much more than death to keep me from coming back to youâ he whispered inches away from your lips, and you smiled because you knew he was serious about that.
With time on your shoulders, you settled on the bed, and he cuddled with you until you fell asleep while he stroked your hair and kissed you on the cheek; you had never felt so safe in someone's arms.
And it was in the morning, just after their last kiss, that your body began to ache for him and his absence. You returned to your cabin, cranky and teary-eyed, looking at the mess he had left on your dresser last night and smiled, recognizing your boyfriend's quirks, but little did you know that all Percy was doing was looking for things he could carry with him during his quest. Things that were yours and reminded him of what he had to fight for.
âNice hair claw, Percyâ Piper joked with a pink spark in her eyes, and he smiled proudly.
Leo dramatically put his hand on his chest and sighed loudly. â Better no one get in HIS â our â way because someone's waiting for him.
âYeah, better notâ he thought.
#marĂa's shared dreamsâ・ďžâ§#percy jackson x you#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy pjo#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#hoo x reader#pjo x reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson blurb#percy jackson fic#percy jackson fluff
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Skin
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âââ
Rating:General Audiences
Warning: Fluff, angst, bitter ex, major friend group dynamic shift
Category:F/M
Fandom: Outerbanks (OBX), (Netflix TV series)
Relationships: JJ Maybank x f reader
Summary: Kie's slowly getting under your skin especially when you're JJ's new girlfriend
Based on recent experiences, and the song skin by Sabrina Carpenter has been stuck in my head for like 6 months on top of the recent experiences...
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**"Maybe we couldâve been friends, if I met you in another lifeâŚ"**
The thought crosses my mind as I stand in the middle of the living room, fiddling with my phone, and waiting for JJ to come back from the kitchen. The memory of Kiara's expression when she found out about us is still fresh, lingering like a bitter taste I canât wash away. It wasnât supposed to happen like this, but I guess things never go as planned.
âYou okay?â JJ's voice pulls me from my thoughts as he enters the room, a playful smile tugging at his lips. Heâs balancing two mugs of coffee in his hands, making his way toward me like everything in the world is perfectly fine.
I nod, forcing a smile back. âYeah. Just thinking.â
He hands me one of the mugs, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact is warm, grounding me in the moment. "About Kie?"
I glance away. He knows me too well.
âItâs hard not to think about her,â I admit, sitting down on the worn-out couch. âShe wasâno, she *is* my friend. I hate that it feels like Iâm betraying her.â
JJ sighs and sits next to me, his arm resting casually behind my shoulders. âYou didnât do anything wrong. Sheâll come around. Itâs just gonna take time.â
**"Iâm happy and you hate it, hate it, ohâŚ"**
I wish I could believe him. Itâs not that I donât want to be with JJâitâs that being with him comes with a whole mess of complications I didnât see coming. Kie and JJ had always had this unspoken connection. At least, thatâs what everyone thought, including me. And then I fell for him. Hard.
Now, itâs like every glance from Kiara is a reminder that Iâve taken something she didnât realize she wanted until it was too late.
âI donât think sheâs ever going to be okay with it,â I confess quietly. âWith us.â
JJ chuckles softly, shaking his head. âWell, thatâs too bad. Because Iâm not going anywhere, and neither are you.â
His words make my heart flutter, even though the doubt still lingers in the back of my mind. I know he means itâheâs serious about us, about this. But how do I move forward when the person I care about most next to JJ feels like Iâm rubbing this relationship in her face?
**"You can try to get under my, under my, under my skin, while heâs on mine."**
I take a deep breath and lean into him, letting his warmth seep into me. I want to focus on him, on this moment, but the guilt weighs heavy on my chest.
âYou think sheâll really get over it?â I ask softly, not really expecting an answer but needing to hear him say it anyway.
JJ turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against my temple. âEventually. Or maybe not. But either way, Iâm not giving this up.â His voice is firm, and I can feel the truth in it.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to silence the doubt. Thereâs something undeniably special between usâsomething that wasnât there with anyone else. And maybe thatâs why it feels so complicated. Maybe thatâs why Kiara reacted the way she did when she found out.
**"I wish you knew that even you canât get under my skin, if I donât let you inâŚ"**
âItâs not just Kie,â I whisper, more to myself than to him. âItâs everything. The looks. The comments.â
JJ pulls back slightly, his blue eyes searching mine. âYou mean from the others? John B? Pope?â
I nod. âThey keep acting like this is something we shouldâve told them about sooner. Like we shouldâve asked for permission or something.â
JJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. âLook, I know itâs complicated with the Pogues, but at the end of the day, theyâre gonna support us. Maybe theyâre just weirded out because they didnât see it coming. But who cares? This is about *us*, not them.â
His words are reassuring, but the sting of Kiaraâs reaction still sits heavy in my chest. When she found out, the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. She hadnât said much, but the silence spoke volumes. I donât think Iâve ever felt so torn between two people in my life.
âYou donât think Iâm a terrible friend, do you?â I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
JJ tilts his head, his expression softening as he looks at me. âNo. Youâre not a terrible friend. You justâŚfell in love. And sometimes, that happens in ways people donât expect.â
**"And Iâm not asking you to let it go, but youâve been telling your side, so Iâll be telling mine."*
Itâs true. Kiara hasnât exactly been shy about expressing her feelings on the matter, even if itâs been in subtle waysâpointed comments, sideways glances, and the awkward tension that fills the room whenever the three of us are together. But Iâve kept my side of the story mostly to myself, too afraid to make things worse.
âYou know she called me the other night?â I say, breaking the silence.
JJ raises an eyebrow. âWhat did she say?â
âShe justâŚwanted to know why. Why *you*? Why now?â
He doesnât say anything for a moment, his jaw tensing slightly as he processes my words. âAnd what did you tell her?â
I shrug, feeling the weight of that conversation settle over me again. âI told her the truth. That it justâŚhappened. That I didnât plan on falling for you, but I did.â
JJâs lips quirk into a small smile, though thereâs a hint of sadness in it. âAnd how did she take that?â
I let out a soft laugh, though itâs more out of exasperation than amusement. âShe didnât really respond. Just said she needed time to figure things out.â
He leans back on the couch, pulling me closer into his side. âThen let her have her time. Weâve got all the time in the world.â
**"You can try to get under my, under my, under my skin⌠but heâs all mine."**
The thing is, I know heâs right. I know that no matter what happens with Kiara or anyone else, thisâwhat we haveâitâs real. And I canât let their opinions, their judgment, get in the way of that. JJ is mine, and I am his. Thatâs all that should matter.
âI just donât want to lose her,â I admit softly, resting my head against his shoulder. âOr anyone.â
âYou wonât,â JJ murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. âAnd even if things are rocky for a while, weâll figure it out. Together.â
I close my eyes, letting the comfort of his words wash over me. Maybe it wonât always be easy. Maybe there will always be a part of Kiara that resents me for this. But I canât let that hold me back from being happy.
**"You canât get under my skin, if I donât let you in."**
And I wonât let her. Not anymore.
I pull back slightly to look at JJ, his face soft in the dim light of the room. âI love you, you know.â
His eyes light up with that mischievous glint Iâve come to adore, and he leans in, his lips brushing mine. âI know. And I love you too.â
For the first time in a while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â
âThank You For Reading!đŠľđŠś
-prettygirl-Gabiâ¨ď¸đ
#support the writers!#gabi answers#gabi writes#jj x y/n#jj x you#jj x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#obx netflix#obx fic#obx#obx smut#rafe cameron imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank outer banks#one shot#angst with a happy ending#bitter exes#kie carrera#pope Hayward#y/n
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You will become it
pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader
summary: When Frank lets the stress of the holidays get to him, he accidentally pushes you away.
Based on the prompt that @hellskitchenswhore posted about: Thanksgiving or Christmas Day with either Matt or Frank, inspired by the quote "If youâre raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. You will find him even when he is not there"
warnings: swearing, descriptions of anxiety, allusions to past trauma
a/n: Ugh I could write a MILLION of these because it's so relatable. I hope that this brings you all some comfort this holiday season.
w/c: 3.1k
To no oneâs surprise, Frank fucking hated the holidays. After losing Maria and the kids, it was just a horrible time of year filled with bitterness over the gap in his life and the fact heâd never have a normal winter again.Â
He tended to throw himself into his vigilante work, bringing the most permanent form of justice to assholes all over the city. Thanksgiving and Christmas were spent alone, unless you considered his guns valuable company, eating bland food and steeling himself against the shitty weather because he was too stubborn to buy a thicker coat.Â
But then heâd met you.Â
Karen had introduced you over the past summer, sort of. Heâd stumbled onto the blondeâs fire escape in the middle of the nightâstartling the two of you who were having some kind of girlsâ night after a tough week. And once Frank had collapsed, unconscious, onto the metal grates he stood on, Karen was forced into an explanation to prevent you from calling the cops.Â
Youâd adjusted to the knowledge that your best friend was willingly helping a fugitive faster than anyone expectedâimmediately jumping in with wide eyes and assisting Karen as she cleaned and dressed Frankâs numerous wounds.Â
When he came to, he was settled on Karenâs couch, blankets draped over his lap. Across the room, you sipped from a wine glass as you flipped through the pages of a book. Heâd hoarsely asked what you were reading and, after the initial shock from him speaking to you had worn off, youâd smiled and asked if he wanted to read with you.Â
Frank was eternally smitten by your thoughtful nature. You were an angel on earth and, for some fucking reason, you were determined to brighten Frankâs life with your company, though he repeatedly reminded you that he didnât deserve you. Despite his bumbling compliments and gruff personality, youâd eagerly agreed when heâd asked you out to dinner a week after meeting youâand youâd been together ever since.Â
You hadnât been dating long, your relationship still fresh enough to count the months spent together on one of his rough hands, but his perpetual grouchiness was slowly being chipped away by your adorable smile and apparent need to spend the majority of your time tucked against his side.Â
Frank had fallen head over heels for you at the speed of light, so saying ânoâ to your sparkling doe eyes when you batted your lashes at him was damn near impossible. Which was how he found himself in his current predicament.Â
While out at a bar with you and your colleagues at Nelson, Murdock, and Page, Redâalways the antagonistâhad smugly asked him if he intended to spend the holidays with you. It wasnât a secret amongst your circle that you werenât overly close with your family. One too many bad memories had resulted in a quieter holiday season without said family, a preferred alternative to the hours of manipulation and abuse youâd previously endured during the winter months.Â
Frank was aware that you didnât have family plans for Christmas, perfectly comfortable welcoming you into his house for an intimate few days complete with fantastic food (that the two of you would cook together) and cuddling in front of the fireplace as you nodded off. You agreed that it had been the perfect way to spend Thanksgiving, so Frank had assumed youâd be alright having a similar Christmas celebration.Â
And maybe you would have, had Karen not suggested that Frank host a Christmas celebration at his place for a larger group.Â
âFrank, youâve been bragging about the turkey you cooked for a week. Itâs honestly rude of you to withhold that from us.â She remarked, smirking at his resulting scowl.Â
âAnd on the holiest day of the year too.â Murdock shook his head, shit-eating grin spreading across his face as Frank scoffed.Â
âFuck you, Red. We donât wanna host your sleazy ass for Christmas. Right, sweetheart?â Frankâs confidence had vanished when he saw your bashful shrug.Â
Avoiding his gaze, you picked at the label on your beer bottle. âI dunno, Frankie. I donât think Iâd mind a few more peopleâŚâ Your voice was quiet, hesitant, but there was a hopeful edge to it that he couldnât ignore.Â
It took him all of 3 seconds to cave to your apprehensively optimistic gaze, his heart melting as you bit your lip nervously. âSure, darlinâ. What the hell?âÂ
He was regretting his hasty agreement now, though.Â
Standing in his kitchen, surrounded by Karen, Matt, Curtis, andâthankfullyâyou on December 23rd, trying desperately to get the cheese sauce for his mac and cheese to combine properly as the four of you drank beer and laughed boisterously around him. As always, you were more helpful than anyone else, offering soft praises and sweet smiles as you cooked side by side, but Frankâs irritation was steadily building and even you couldnât stop it.Â
It didnât help that he hadnât slept well all week, familiar nightmares viciously overtaking his subconscious as soon as he closed his eyes. And the lack of sleep, combined with the way his head was pounding as he worried over the pot on the stove, meant his patience was thinner than a fishing line.Â
âFor fucks sake, thought yâall were here for a goddamn reason. Is this a social event now?â Frank groused, whirling around to face the four people in his kitchen as yet ANOTHER cheese sauce failed to form smoothly.Â
You all fell silent, though everyone but you rolled their eyes at his grumpy tone. Not used to this side of Frank, your face fellâeyes widening as your partner barked orders, creating a much different atmosphere than the peaceful one that had surrounded your perfect Thanksgiving. Shuffling backwards a step, you stood rigid as a statue as Frank scowled.Â
âKaren, wash the China I took out. Curt, chop those veggies. Murdock, peel those potatoes.â He pointed to each of them in turn before turning to you. âAnd clearly I canât make this shit to save my life so you figure it out while I iron the table cloth.âÂ
Nodding dutifully, you removed the pot behind his hips from the heat, scraping the lumpy bechamel into the trash before making another roux. You knew Frank didnât mean to snap at you, he was just on edge about hosting the gathering. No one else was concerned about his demeanor, so why should you be? Trying to quell the churning anxiety in your chest, you diligently completed every task you were given, silently whipping up a number of sides as the sun began to set.Â
Eventually, the five of you had prepped everything but the turkey, including the decorations and table set up. Waving farewell to the other three sous chefs, you lingered by the door as you closed it behind them.Â
You and Frank had previously agreed that youâd stay over for a few nights to watch Christmas movies and bake cookies, your two favorite traditions that you hadnât shared with anyone for a few years. However, after witnessing his clear frustration, you were apprehensive. Did he still want you to stay?Â
Because of your history with men taking their anger out on you, Frankâs discontent had brought out a side of you that you never wished to experience again. You were still pretty sure he hadnât meant it, but your certainty was fading by the minute.Â
Stepping back into the kitchen, you began scrubbing at the pots in the sink as quietly as possible, hoping that if you handled the rest of the work in silence, Frank wouldnât have any reason to be upset with you anymore. Unfortunately for your nervous heart, Frankâs mood wasnât quite over.Â
âThe fuck are you doinâ,â Came a harsh voice from behind you.Â
Willing yourself not to startle, you stayed facing the sink, your back to your raging boyfriend. âJust cleaning up, love.â Your voice was meek, but it luckily didnât waver.Â
âAnd I ainât capable of doinâ that myself?â His stern response hit you like a brick. Shutting off the faucet, you wiped your hands on a towel and turned to face him, brow furrowing in confusion.Â
âOf course I think youâre capable. I wanted to help you, Iââ
âItâs funny, really. Yâall wanted me to host this goddamn thing and you donât think I can do my own fuckinâ dishes?â Frank looked at you, incredulously. He never asked for your pity.Â
âFrankieââ
âI donât need your help. Get out.â He said, jerking his head to shoo you out of the room.Â
Choking on an inhale, your eyes stung with unshed tears. âO-ok, Frankie.â
As he restarted the stream of scalding water, you gathered your things and headed out into the night.Â
Turning off the tap, Frank dried his hands before surveying his kitchen with a satisfied nod. Banishing you from the kitchen was rudeâhe knew thatâbut, ultimately, it had allowed him to unwind while efficiently tidying up the sprawling mess that had manifested during a day of cooking. Exhaling forcefully, Frank felt a pang of guilt in his gut as he remembered how abrasively he'd treated you today. Ready to beg for your forgiveness, and offer a few ways he might be able to make it up to you, he strode over to the couch where he figured you were laying.Â
âSorry for kickinâ ya out of the room, sweetheart. Guess I needed a minute to calm down. Did ya still wanna watch a movie?â Rounding the arm of the couch to kneel before you, Frank was hit with a wave of dread as he was met with the sight of empty cushions. Treading into the bedroom, his bed was similarly bare, and his bathroom was dark and vacant.Â
Heart rate spiking, he spun around in the main room of his apartment, looking for any sign of your whereabouts. Your purse and coat were gone. Youâd left, but why?
Suddenly, a chilling thought occurred to him as he replayed your previous conversation.Â
âI donât need your help. Get out.â
He hadnât clarified that he still wanted you here. You thought he had demanded that you leave the apartment altogether, not the kitchen while he worked.Â
Shit, shit, shit.Â
Scrambling for his phone, he snatched his keys and flew down the stairs as he dialed your number. The phone rang endlessly as he sprinted to his truck down the block. Eventually, he received your voicemail. FUCK.Â
Turning his keys in the ignition, he called again. âCâmon, darlinâ. Please pick up.âÂ
Getting your voicemail again, Frank growled in frustration, before his screen lit up with a text.Â
You: Hey, bubba. I canât talk at the moment. Is something wrong? Are you alright?
Closing his eyes in relief, and gritting his teeth as he was smacked with another wave of guilt, he cursed himself. âOf course Iâm not alright,â He thought to himself, âI sent you away, sweetheart.âÂ
Flicking open his phone, he hastily typed out a question.Â
Frank: Are you at your place?
You: Yes, love.Â
Frank: Iâll be there soon.Â
Speeding down the city streets, Frank couldnât help but wish heâd realized his mistake earlier. Maybe a flower shop would've been open then.Â
Chewing absently at your thumbnail, a new rush of tears rolled down your cheeks. God, you were such a coward. Youâd avoided Frankâs call because you simply couldnât handle him yelling at you for whatever youâd done to upset him. Instead, youâd texted him, hoping to hide behind a wall of messages as he explained your mistake. But it hadnât worked that way, he was coming here. To scold you. Maybe even break up with you.Â
The thought of Frank leaving you because of something youâd unknowingly done to offend him forced the air from your lungs with a sob. Desperately trying to get your emotions under control, you threw back the wine in your glass as you stared blankly towards the door.Â
The footsteps in the hall were deafening, each one sending a chill down your spine as you willed your aching legs to hold you upright. A key scratched in your lock and the door slid open, the large shadow of your boyfriend extending into your apartment. Huffing out a breath as he addressed you, Frank frowned at your tear-streaked face.Â
âYou cannot just leave like that,â He explained, shutting the door with a loud bang that made you jump. âDid you walk home? Itâs dark out!âÂ
Frank stepped forward, reaching his arms toward you and ice flooded your veins as you responded to the familiar motion.Â
Stumbling backwards, you curled in on yourself. âIâm sorry, Frank. Iâm so sorry. So sorry.â Tears splattered on the floor beneath your downcast face. You were trembling, terrified of being screamed at, or worse.Â
That was when it all clicked for Frank. Your wide eyes as he bossed you around. The way your jaw remained clenched for hours as you cooked. The lack of your giggles and quips and smiles for the majority of the day. You were afraid. Heâd made you afraid.Â
âOh, sweetheart.â His voice broke as you sobbed, just out of his reach. Each of your choked inhales broke off another piece of his shattered heart. âOh, honey, no. Donât be sorry. Iâm sorry.âÂ
Crouching in front of you, keeping enough distance to hopefully not spook you further, Frank brought his hands into a placating gesture. As he exposed his palms to you, you looked at him with glassy eyes. âDarlinâ Iâm not upset with you. I ainât ever been upset with ya, not once. I was grouchier than normal today and I didnât realize I was being too cruel. I ainât mad, sweet girl. Could never be mad at my sweetheart.âÂ
You nodded, but didnât seem to be registering his words. Crumbling to the floor in front of him, you were practically hyperventilating at this point, stuttering through apologies between shallow breaths.Â
âSweetheart, youâre gonna choke. Letâs sit on the couch for a minute.â Supporting your weight as you collapsed into his chest, Frank scooped you up and carried you over to the couch. He settled down, sitting your shaking body in his lap. Shushing you gently, he tucked your head under his chin, running a broad hand along your spine. âBreathe, sweet girl. Canât have my baby suffocatinâ because of my dumb ass.âÂ
Breathing deeply to demonstrate the action for you, Frank eventually felt your body still, your inhales evening out.Â
ââM so sorry, Frankie.â You whispered hoarsely against his neck.Â
âNothinâ to be sorry for, my beautiful girl. You were just tryinâ to help. Iâm sorry for beinâ such an ass.â Pulling back from you to study your face, Frank brought a hand up to cradle your jaw as he swiped away the remaining tears from your damp cheeks. âI didnât mean to send ya home, darlinâ. I just wanted you to sit on the couch while I cleaned up.â Continuing quickly as he watched your lips part with another apology, he added, âThat ainât your fault either. It definitely seemed like I was kickinâ ya out. Thatâs also on me.â
Nodding hesitantly, you leaned into him with a tired sigh. âOk.â
âDid ya want me to leave, sweetheart? I know I scared you,âÂ
âNo!â Your hand came up to grasp his jacket, clinging to him fearfully. âDonât leave me, Frankie, please.âÂ
âHey, hey, I ainât leavinâ unless you want me to, darlinâ.â Frank promised, pressing his lips to your forehead. âIâm here as long as youâll put up with me.âÂ
âI donât want you to leave.â You murmured, tracing a finger over the folds in his lapel.Â
âThen Iâll be here.â He assured you, stroking a hand over your back once again as he reclined, tugging you on top of him and covering you both with a blanket from the back of your couch. âRight here. Always.â
 The pair of you sat in silence for a spell, focusing on getting your breathing back under control. Eventually, Frank pressed another kiss to your head before offering an explanation. âI shouldnât have snapped atcha, sweet girl. I was tired, and irritated, and I let it out on all of you. That ainât fair and Iâll try to keep my cool next time.âÂ
Nodding gratefully against him, you mumbled a quivering âThank you.âÂ
âOf course, doll. I scared ya when I kicked ya out?â He asked, hoping youâd clarify so he could prevent this panic in the future.Â
âMmhmm.â You confirmed. âI, um, I donât do well when people raise their voices. Iâm sorry. I donât mean to be sensitive.âÂ
âHey now,â Frank admonished as gently as he could. âI like my sensitive girl. Iâll try not to yell. I didnât know it would bother you so much, darlinâ.âÂ
You shrugged. âPeople got angry with me a lot when I was a kid. Especially the men in my family. Maybe I was an easy target, I donât know. But I jump to conclusions now because of it.âÂ
âThat makes sense, honey. Thatâs your brain tryinâ to protect you from big scary guys like me.â Frank joked, but you poked his chest.Â
âYouâre not scary,â You chided. âJust big.âÂ
He chuckled at that. âWell, Iâll try to keep beinâ ânot scaryâ and promise to listen whenever you choose to warn me about this stuff, ok?âÂ
âOk.â You agreed, lips twitching into a faint smile as he brushed his nose into your hair. Turning your face to his, your lips met in a sweet kiss.Â
âHave I done anythinâ else that bothers ya?â Frank asked, fear sparking in his chest.Â
Shaking your head vehemently, you snuggled into him. âNo. Youâre wonderful.âÂ
âOk. Just tell me, darlinâ. I never want ya to be afraid of me.â Â
ââM not afraid of you, Frankie. Promise.âÂ
âOk, sweetheart. Did ya wanna go to bed, or stay here for a bit?âÂ
âCould we go to your place?â You asked timidly.Â
âOf course, love. But only if you let me carry you out to the car. My poor girl has had a rough day and itâs my job to make that up to her.âÂ
You giggled. âMmm kay.âÂ
Frank spoke quietly to you as you traveled back to his apartment, talking about the book he was reading and what he was excited about for the holiday. You remained quiet, the exhaustion of your panic attack weighing on you, but you were filled with a pleasant warmth as Frank shared more of himself with you.Â
Once heâd carried you into his home and tucked you into bed, you were barely awake.Â
âSleep well, sweetheart. Iâll be right here when you wake up.â Comforted by Frankâs rumbling promise, you drifted off, dreaming only of his smiling face.Â
#frank castle#frank castle x reader#the punisher#frank castle imagine#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x you#frank castle fanfiction#the punisher imagine#the punisher x reader#jon bernthal#jon bernthal fanfiction#frank castle headcanon#frank castle headcanons#my writing#fc
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TAGS: Laios x Reader, Fluff, Comfort, Morning After, Canon Adjacent, Neurodivergent Laios Implied, Trust Issues, Mild Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reader is a Beastman, Gender Neutral Reader, Second Person POV, It's Sweet I promise ;-;
While there was no doubt in your mind that you had crossed a boundary with Laios, it wasnât like you could turn back now.
Part II to Animal Attraction Word Count: 8.8k
Morning came with little fanfare.Â
This deep below the surface, there was neither the sun to rise nor any birds to sing their early morning songs. If it werenât for the party keeping track of time, you wouldnât have been able to tell if it were night or day based on your surroundings alone. Hours passed without the help of the sun to guide you through the day; morning slipped into evening without notice. Days passed on the surface, lives went on, and the clock in your bedroom still ticked onward without anyone to watch its hands creeping across its face.Â
The lack of sunlight was disorienting in the early days of adventuring, but curiosity ultimately won out, and youâd pressed on and learned to live with it.
As you began to stir beneath the sleeping bags, it was the chill in the room that hit you first.Â
Beneath the covers, it was nice and warm, but your cheeks stung, rosy from the crisp air filtering in from outside the worn building. Shivering slightly, you snuggled in closer to the warmth behind you. Scruffy ears lay closer to your head, aching from the cold already. Though it had settled down some since last night, it was that sort of bleak, damp cold that had a way of working itself into your bones. It would have been enough to make your fur stand on end if it weren't for the heat surrounding the rest of your body.
While your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, you could feel the soreness creeping into your muscles from last night. The realisation that it hadnât been a dream came rushing in, along with the dull ache in your muscles. Heat crept into your cheeks when the memories of last night began to flood your mind. The images of your little rendezvous were still so clear and freshâevery whispered word, every tender touch; the way he looked with his head thrown back against the pillows⌠every little sound heâd made that had butterflies swirling in your stomach.
It would be a lie to say that the thought of an intimate night with your partyâs leader hadnât crossed your mind before, but sitting here in bed the morning after, you still found it hard to believe. The weight of the realisation settled over you slowly, mingling in with the comforting warmth of the man next to you. His strong arm was still wrapped around your torso, holding you close even as he slept. It was gentle, innocent in comparison to the shameless images that whirled in your mindâs eye.
While there was no doubt in your mind that you had crossed a boundary with Laios, it wasnât like you could turn back now. His breaths came steady against the back of your neck, oblivious to your inner turmoil as he slept soundly next to you. The subtle rise and fall of his sturdy chest was a steady rhythm against your back.Â
You were careful not to wake him up as you turned your head toward him, gently shifting your body so you could catch a glimpse of his face.Â
The adventurerâs cropped hair was a mess atop his head, the short, fluffy blond strands sticking up every which way against the pillows. He looked so sweet like this: content and peaceful. Soft pink lips parted slightly as he breathed, eyes closed, as he rested beside you beneath the worn sleeping bags. Pink cheeks and soft lipsâunder different circumstances, you werenât sure youâd be able to resist kissing him awake.
Your stomach twisted. A big part of you worried about how he might react when he woke up.
You knew Laios was notoriously bad at reading social situations, and this was certainly a complicated one. This was new territory for both of you, and there was no telling what he might think of you now. Or what the others might think of you should they find out, for that matter.Â
Then again, you knew him well enough to know his kindness. Even in the short time youâd been with their party, it was clear that he cared deeply about everyone on his team, yourself included. Whatever happened next, you would find a way to face it with as much grace as you could muster.
Heâd always done his best to ensure the safety of his friends. He knew your strengths, your weaknesses, the best of your abilities, how to utilise them properly when it came down to it, and the areas where you could all improve if you just practised a little more.Â
Laios knew what he could and couldnât handle too, for the most part. But what if this one slip-up was enough to offset the delicate balance theyâd all spent so long maintaining? What if this was beyond his limits? There was no telling what he might say after the fog of desire had lifted, when the dust settled and it was just the two of you laying naked together with everything out in the open.
The mixture of emotions was nigh on overwhelming. In another situation, you may have been poised to run already, to slip away into the morning sun and forget this ever happened, no matter how badly you wanted to stay. A walk of shame felt easier than facing the fact that it was more than just physical on your part. You had to take a deep breath to calm yourself down. Eyes closed, four seconds in, four seconds out.Â
At very least, the rest of the party seemed to still be asleep.Â
As hard as it was to hear through the stone walls of the old inn, you were certain that, with your sensitive hearing, youâd at least know if someone else happened to be awake already. There was no stirring yet. If anyone else were up by now, then you would have heard it. You would have heard Marcille trying to wake Izutsumi, the scrape of Senshiâs pan scraping across the wooden floorboards, or perhaps Chillchuckâs distant grumbling⌠but there was nothing.
The cavern outside was quiet, save for the distant dripping of water echoing through the tunnelsâmost likely the snow already beginning to melt. Youâd have to remember to put on your warmer clothes when you got up to brave the day.Â
You shifted slightly, trying to stretch your sore muscles without disturbing Laios. As you moved, his arm instinctively tightened around you. He could feel the warmth of your body against his, and it made him reluctant to break the peaceful silence that enveloped the room. Finally, he found his voice, still heavy with sleep, and murmured, "Good morning.â Â
When he finally broke the stillness in the room, you could feel the way his voice rumbled up from deep within his chest. His voice was low and intimate in a way that made your heart twist in your chest. That lazy morning drawl you were rarely fortunate enough to hear. When he blinked himself awake, you were met with a tired version of his signature puppy dog gaze. The way he looked at you was as if he were taking everything in for the first time.
"Morning," you replied breathlessly, your heart skipping a beat as he opened his eyes.Â
He felt your body tense slightly in response, a subtle movement that made his heart ache.Â
Golden and warm, his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he offered you a lopsided smile. The expression was familiar and unfamiliar all in the same moment; that soft look had your breath catching in your throat. But there was something new within themâsomething different in the way he looked at you nowâthat strange something that comforted you and set you on edge in the same moment.Â
The feeling of the tallmanâs thick bicep curled against your waist was like a lifeline, keeping you tethered to this moment before you slipped too far into the whirlwind of self-doubt that threatened to overtake you. That gentle embrace which kept you pinned against the firm muscle and soft fat of his chest so comfortably.Â
His musky scent flooded your nostrils, dizzying you in a way you couldnât describe. You could feel the firmness of his muscles and the softness of his chest and stomach against your body. You wanted nothing more than to nuzzle back into him and fall back asleep right then and there, to deal with the aftermath of last nightâs activities some other time.Â
There was no running away now.
There was a small voice in the back of your mind that nagged at you, begging you to just up and ask. Would your little slip-up change anything between the two of you? A tiny piece of you hoped that it would, but knowing that the others could wake up at any moment, you thought better of asking. Better to keep your mouth shut for the time being.
You couldnât help but look away from him then, finding the worn sleeping bags covering your still-naked bodies much less polarising than the thoughts racing through your mind. Some of the threads were frayed, sticking out at odd angles to show just how well loved the equipment was.Â
The discomfort must have been obvious on your face because Laios's expression quickly shifted from drowsiness to a mixture of confusion and concern as he came to fully. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
He could see the mixture of emotions in your eyesâcomfort, affection, and a hint of uncertainty. It mirrored his own feelingsâthat strange blend of comfort and anxiety, teetering on the brink of something wonderful and terrifying all at the same time.
Laios felt the gentle weight of your hand resting against his chest lift. His arm lay against your waist, palm flat against your hip as he held you close. To him it was your touch that was like a lifeline, keeping him tethered to this peaceful moment, to you. But when he realised something was off his arm loosened around your body before he moved to sit up in bed and ultimately, let you go completely.
"I'm fine," you reassured him with an awkward smile, making no move to pull away from him. The words felt wrong on your tongue, nearly catching in your throat before you had a chance to spit them out. Lying to him didnât come easy, nevermind the fact that he could see right through you.
As much as you wanted to address the so-called elephant in the room, perhaps the two of you were right the night before.Â
Maybe it would be better to pretend none of it ever happened, or maybe you were just fooling yourself. Perhaps it would be easier to rebuild that wall. Less heartache in the long run.Â
"Just a bit sore." You added, it was a half truth.
His brow furrowed with worry immediately, realising something was off but unable to put his finger on what exactly. His thoughts began to race as he replayed the events of last night in his mind, nearly wincing at the thought of your halfhearted protests. "Did I hurt you?"Â
Despite the stubborn thoughts from some frightened corner of your mind, you couldnât help but soften at the way he looked at you. His drowsy eyes now widened against his hard features, his big hands flexing against the bed sheets as he tried to decide whether to reach out to you again or to stay still and give you your space. He wouldnât be able to forgive himself if heâd hurt you, even if it were by accident in the heat of the moment.
His eyes searched yours for a second, looking for any further signs of distress, but there was something there that he couldnât quite read. By the time he caught it, youâd already ripped your gaze away again, looking down at the bed.
You shook your head quickly and sat up on your elbows, careful to cover whatever was left of your modesty with the bedding.Â
âIâm okay,â You repeated, âReally. IâŚâ You paused as your thought trailed off, the words getting caught in your throat this time as you looked up at him again.
You placed your hand over one of his on the bed, squeezing it lightly.Â
Who were you kidding? When he looked at you like that, it was impossible not to tell him what was on your mind. After your heart-to-heart and all the little conversations youâd shared over the journey thus far, it would be wrong not to offer him that same trust in return. Perhaps some walls werenât so easily rebuilt.
Deep breaths again. You looked away from him for the third time this morning. It was easier to get the words out when you couldnât feel the burn of his eyes against your skin.Â
âIâm just not really used to⌠uh⌠this?... yâknow?âÂ
The words hadnât quite come out right, if not a little awkward, but at least he was pretty sure he understood the gist of what you were alluding to. It was enough to get your point across, enough to ease the tension in his shoulders as his thumb rubbed against the back of your hand.
You didnât know what to call the situation at hand, but putting it at face value, you werenât exactly prone to sleeping with your coworkers. Sure, there was a little crush here and there, but that was natural. Certainly, before him, youâd never even considered sleeping with one of your bosses , especially not on a job this important.Â
Yet here you were, hand in hand, wondering where the hell to go from here.
Laios nodded slowly, the tension in his face easing a little. Although he couldnât see in the dark as well as you could, he could see the way you cowered slightly as you said the words. He could see the way that you seemed to want to curl in on yourself again. He recognized that look from last nightâs conversationâvulnerability wasnât something that seemed to come easy to you.
Perhaps the others didnât give him enough credit when it came to being able to read those he was close to, or maybe it was your more animalistic tendencies that were more familiar to him that made it easier. He wasnât sure.
There was something in the way your fuzzy little ears flattened against your headâthat sheepish, downcast gazeâthat stirred something behind his sternum. With a stance like that, heâd be willing to bet youâd have had your tail between your legs in any other position, ready to bolt. He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts, before he offered up a soft admission.
âMe either.âÂ
It may not have seemed like much, but it was honest. He was looking away from you now too, his fingers slowly threading themselves through yours on the bed as he tried to find the courage to continue.Â
For once, the quiet was getting to him; he wanted to hear your voice. That gentle tone you had in the early hours of the day threatened to lull him back to sleep. Heâd always had trouble pulling his stare away from you when things were calm, though you and everyone else had simply chalked it up to his fascination with monsters and beasts.Â
Lightly, you brushed a thumb over the back of his hand in return. It was an unconscious gesture, but that small show of comfort was enough contact to ease him into what he had to say. After all, it stands to reason that youâd already gone this far. He figured, whatâs one more confession?
âI donât exactly have a lot of experience with⌠this sort of thing either.â The blond admitted, nervously running his free hand through his tousled hair. It came to rest on the back of his neck for a moment, rubbing his muscles before he dropped it back down to his lap and picked at the fraying strings on the covers.Â
He needed something to occupy his hands and keep him calm. Something to distract him from the way your attention settled over him now.
Sure, he wasnât entirely clueless. He had been engaged at one point, after all.
It was completely different, though, probably not something he could compare this situation to even if he wanted to. It had been so long ago that it felt like another life, a blip on the timeline. Something that had been done to appease his parents for the time being. Something to keep the peaceâif you could even call it that.Â
It wasnât as if heâd had any sort of long term relationship aside from thatâhell, he hadnât wanted one.
Still avoiding your stare, he forced himself to swallow the lump forming in his throat at the thought of what he was about to say to you.Â
"About last nightâŚâ
You tensed beneath his grip, your blood practically running cold at those words.Â
Nothing good ever followed a start like that, and you knew it. Though you werenât particularly well versed in the way of one night stands, or romance for that matter, you had read that line countless times in novels before. You knew that nothing good ever came next.Â
Even when you felt your throat tighten up, you swore to yourself that you would not permit the tears to sting your eyes. Not today, not now.Â
Youâd told yourself that if rejection came, you would find it within to accept it with grace, you could feign indifference. Stick to the plan and put on a brave face for the sake of all that youâd built with the group in your short journey alongside them. For the sake of the mission and your safe return to the surface.
Laios cleared his throat quietly, still trying to force the words up out of himself.Â
âI want you to know that I care about you.â He added, and you looked away from him again.Â
His eyes were soft. Pity , you thought. You couldnât stand it, the thought threatening to have bile rising in your oesophagus. He must have felt sorry for you. Part of you wanted to scoff at him and tear your hand away, but you remained still.Â
With grace, you reminded yourself.
âI know,â you replied quietly, hesitant to reciprocate his sentiment in fear of what came next.
Those words were sharp against his chest. Not exactly callous, not quite cold, but not what heâd expected either. The edge to your words cut deeper than he expected, leaving him questioning everything.
They sent a million different calculations running through his mind in an instant. Did he misunderstand your intentions somehow? Was he reading too much into all of this? Again, he found himself searching for the answers in your form. However, you had turned away a little bit more, your gaze hardening as you stared at the wall opposite the bed.Â
He couldn't read your face now. It was as if you were poised to run away for real this time. Though you hadnât yet let go of his hand, it felt like a physical barrier had been erected between you. Laios couldnât read your expression anymore, and the uncertainty was maddening. It was like youâd shut down before heâd even begun. He was terrified heâd pushed you too far. Was he fucking this up entirely?Â
âNo, I donât think you do.â He said it softly, struggling to keep his tone light.Â
It wasnât an accusation, but merely a fact.
There was a new edge to his voice, though, bitterness seeping across his tongue when he spoke despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. Laios didnât snap often, but the idea that the one person who seemed to understand him the most in his current party could brush him off like thatâespecially in a moment of vulnerabilityâhad his resolve weakening.Â
His words held no malice that you could detect. In fact, if you didnât know any better, you might think he sounded⌠hurt?Â
Oh.
You looked back at him then, brows knit together with concern as you looked up at his face. His expression was somewhere between sadness and confusion, fingers twitching against yours while he considered whether or not he should let your hand go for good this time.Â
But you squeezed his hand back, keeping the warmth of his palm against yours. Youâd opened your mouth to speak, but you couldnât find the words.
âI mean, I care about you.â His voice was quiet, and even now, as he calmed himself, his eyes squeezed shut. He needed to say this, no matter how hard it was.
It was easier for him too when he didnât have to feel the intensity of your gaze against his exposed flesh. Vulnerability in this manner was a skill he had yet to learn, but for the sake of salvaging this he would do his damn best. Laios focussed on the warmth of your palm against his own. He spoke in hushed tones, as if he might scare you off if he talked too loud.Â
Or perhaps because, despite the fact that you were alone in the room, these words were meant for you and you alone.Â
âI care about you more than I can explain. I care about you because... because you mean something to me. More than just a party member, more than just a friend.â He continued, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns into the back of your hand to keep himself grounded.
He felt a lump in his throat as he spoke, the raw honesty of his words making him feel exposed. He searched your face for any sign of understanding, any indication that you might feel the same way.
âIt⌠probably wasnât a good idea.â He admitted with a sad smile.
He wasnât wrong. Chilchuckâs lectures and rants about professionalism and intraparty relationships hadnât been for naught. Laios had seen it for himself once or twice, and he was no stranger to being taken advantage of. Despite the way your heart sank further at what heâd said, you knew that workplace relationships could easily spell disaster.Â
Lives and careers could be ruined in an instant if just one person made the wrong move. If someone or something else got in the way, it could cause irreparable damage to a relationship. And that was on the surface. Down here, where the sunlight never reached you, surrounded by monsters and isolated from polite society, it should have been obvious that things could be much, much worse. If not deadly.
Yet, selfishly, you wouldnât take it back. Not even if you could.
âBut it wasnât a mistake to me.â He said it firmly as he opened his eyes and finally looked back at you.Â
You couldnât help but feel hopeful at those words. There was a faint glimmer of it in your eyes, peeking through the cracks in the metaphorical walls you had yet to fully tear down. Those same walls heâd done his best to help you demolish in the short time heâd known you. His gaze had flickered back up to your face, his eyes teeming with sincerity as he spoke. They were warm as sunlight, captivating like a summer storm when he held you in his stare. He did his best to gauge your reaction before he said anything else.
His mind raced, each thought vying for attention. Was he saying too much? Not enough? The fear of rejection clawed at him, but he pushed it aside, determined to make you understand. The vulnerability was almost unbearable, but he knew it was necessary. If he didnât open up now, he might lose you before he even had a chance to try.
He watched you closely, searching for any sign of what you were thinking. Your hesitation cut him deeper than he expected, but he tried to remain patient. He squeezed your hand gently once more.
That look of hope in your eyes was so faint, he almost convinced himself heâd imagined it. Still, he was nothing if not a brave man. He held you in his gentle gaze as he waited for a response, golden eyes almost pleading.
It was hard not to smile when he looked at you like that.
âI donât regret it,â you admitted at last.Â
Your heart fluttered in your chest again, whether it was from the nerves or the way he regarded you with such kindness, you werenât sure.Â
âAnd I care about you too.âÂ
Though it seemed obvious enough, you felt like you owed it to him to say it out loud. While it may have been wise to figure this out under different circumstances, it was entirely possible that there may not be another time to sort through this.Â
There had already been so many close calls on this journey as it was right now. The thought had crossed your mind in a flash, bubbling up before youâd even had the time to process it in full.Â
Would you be alright if something happened to one of you, knowing you had your chance and had thrown it away because you were afraid of something real? Something human?
He finished your thought for you. âI know last night was⌠unexpected.â Though not unwelcome. âand I got carried away but⌠it meant something to me.âÂ
This wasnât how he wanted to do this. It was unconventional, but it was better to be honest than to push it aside.Â
âI...I donât want it to just be a one-time affair.âÂ
It was obvious that he was struggling to get the words out; he was not used to speaking so candidly in uncharted territory. He knew monsters like the back of his hand; he knew the dangers that came with his job, and he revered them for what they were. But human nature was not so kind; the hidden dangers and buried subtext that he often struggled to detectâ it was all but alien to him.Â
You swallowed hard, looking back down at the way his hand seemed to hold onto yours like a tether. As if it were the only thing keeping him anchored here in this room, as if you might fade away if he let go.Â
The silence stretched on for seconds, but it might as well have been hours with the way the tension hung heavy in the air between you.Â
"You... don't have to answer me right now." Laios added quickly, afraid that he may have crossed some unseen boundary. Pressuring you into something you didnât want was the furthest thing from his mind right now. Not only would that stress be entirely unnecessary for the both of you but-
âNo, I want to- I justâŚâ You stammered, watching the way his other hand continued to unwind the fraying strings at the edges of the bedding. âThatâs not what I was expecting you to say, I guess.âÂ
A shy smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Laios was usually the one to be straightforward, whereas others might tend to beat around the bush a little more. Seeing him wrestling with himself to confess his feelings was such a stark contrast to the leader you knew outside of closed doors.Â
While you were a force to be reckoned with as well, all bite and no bark when it came to urgent situations, this was so far out of bounds in terms of what youâd grown accustomed to. Beastmen were not treated so delicately or with such tenderness and respect. You were meant to be a tool, a commodity.Â
In some sick way, maybe that felt safer.
But you enjoyed this, having him so close to you. Your fingers were still laced together loosely against the bed sheets as you considered what to say next. The intimacy was welcomeâstrange, but welcomed wholeheartedly. Something unrecognisable was bubbling up within you now, something you couldnât quite place. It was that warm feeling in the middle of your chestâfeelings that you had long abandoned, fantasies of comfort that youâd banished into some forgotten corner of your psyche that were threatening to leak back out now.
You took a deep breath before responding, your other hand lightly brushing along his forearm as you sat together. "It doesn't have to be." You muttered nervously, "I mean... I.. don't want it to be uh... a one time thing.â
Finally, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate. Laios looked back down at where your hands were connected, a small smile playing on his lips. He shifted slightly, moving closer, until his forehead rested gently against yours. The warmth of his breath in the crisp air mingled with yours, creating a cocoon of shared space and warmth that tickled your skin. It was safe, it was exhilarating.
"Iâm glad," he admitted quietly. "It meant a lot to me."
Heâd hardly had time to grapple with the fact that there was more to his fascination with you before youâd crept into his dreams each night. The curve of your back when you would bend and stretch in the morning before pulling the straps on your leather armour tight against your body. The way he would have to force himself to rip his gaze away, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for staring so long. Wondering why it was that he couldnât get you out of his head and knowing it was something more than pure curiosity.
In that moment, you took it upon yourself to close the distance between you, leaning into him and pressing your lips to his. The covers slipped, but you didnât care. His arms slinked around you, pulling you closer until you were chest-to-chest again.Â
There was a strange sense of relief that had washed over you both, mixing in with the excitement of new possibilities. This time it was him who pulled back, a dopey grin on his face as he looked down at you.
A hand reached up to brush stray strands of your hair from your face.Â
âWe should get dressed.â He said, though he made no move to let you go.
âYeahâŚâ You agreed, although you didnât seem to be in a hurry to pull away from him either.
Time was precious, although one could argue that allowing your team to sleep in and rest a little more might have been better in the long run.
You rested your cheek against his shoulder for just a moment longer, giving him a light squeeze before pulling away to find your forgotten articles of clothing. Even with your night vision, it was rather difficult to pick out the darker fabrics of your clothing against the dimly lit room. Your body shifted slightly in bed, hands roaming against the sheets carefully so as not to disturb the stillness. Laios followed suit, finding his discarded boxers along with your undergarments hanging haphazardly off the side of the bed.Â
He passed them to you immediately, watching as you slid the fabric up over your legs before walking across the cold wooden floor to your bag. He couldnât quite make out what you were doing, but he heard rustling as he stood up and pulled the rough linen of his trousers back up over his hips.
Youâd pulled out your lantern from your bag, deciding that you could spare the oil so long as it meant not having to walk out in mismatched or backwards clothing. The match hissed as you struck it, leaning it down to kiss the wick.Â
The room was illuminated in an instant, the dim orange glow casting long shadows across the floor. You picked up your bag and set it on the empty bed, rummaging through it for a moment before you looked back up at the tallman across the room.
His honeyed eyes were transfixed on your body, a deep blush on his cheeks as he watched you getting ready for the day. The sight of you, even in this mundane act, brought another soft smile to his face. Your body was drenched in the soft orange glow of the flames, illuminating every fold, curve, muscle, and patch of soft fur he could get his hungry eyes on. The tail behind you swung lazily with every movement.
Laios couldnât fathom how heâd been so lucky to know you in the first place, let alone to know you so intimately. His heart leapt back up into his throat as he drank in the sight of you.
From Laios' perspective, every detail was captivating. The gentle sway of your tail, the way the light played across your skin, the grace in your every movementâit all left him breathless. He could feel a warmth spreading through his chestâa mix of admiration and awe, you really were perfect to him.
He remembered the first time he saw you, how different you had seemed from anyone he had ever known, not just your form but the little things you did. The way you laughed and stretched after being brought back from the brink of death like it was nothing. It made him want to know more. Now, as he watched you, he realised just how precious all those little moments were. There was something about the way you carried yourselfâ a blend of open mindedness and witty charmâ that resonated with him on a level he hadnât fully understood until now.
Laios felt a surge of emotion, a blend of gratitude and longing. He wanted to reach out, to pull you close and hold you, to express everything he felt in a single embrace. But for now, he simply watched, content to admire the person who had become so important to him in such a short time.
Finally, you looked up and met his gaze. His blush deepened, but he didnât look away. Instead, he let his smile grow, hoping you could see the depth of his feelings in his eyes.
âYouâre staring again,â you huffed, stating the obvious. A hand rested on your hip, shifting your weight to one leg as you felt the familiar sting of anxiety creeping back under your skin. It felt silly, especially after last night, but some insecurities werenât so easily quelled.
âS-sorry.â He stuttered, quickly turning away and grabbing his shirt.
You felt like a hypocrite the second you laid eyes on him, your eyes widening as you caught sight of the long, rosy scratch marks across the pale flesh of his back. The way his thick muscles shifted beneath his skin with every motion, his shirt stretching over his broad shoulders as he moved to pull his shirt over his head.Â
Youâd had an idea of it before now, but gods above, everything about him was thick. Even for a tallman he was large, it was no wonder heâd made such a great guard before now.
âLaios,â you breathed out softly, reaching a hand out to brush your fingers against the reddened skin in a mixture of awe and embarrassment.
He shivered under your touch, the gentle sting a reminder of last nightâs intensity.Â
âOh, yeah.. Those,â he replied with a soft chuckle, âI guess we did get a little carried away last night, huh?â
âIâm so sorry-â
âDonât be,â he cut you off with a smile, tugging his shirt down over his torso before turning to face you fully. âI wouldn't trade it for anything.âÂ
It was a reminder of the night the two of you had shared. While guilt and pride mixed within your chest, he found himself giddy at the idea of being marked by you. He pulled your hand away gently, holding it in both of his for a moment. He cherished how soft they were in comparison to his, calloused from years of hard labour and training. Fingers brushed against your claws in admiration before he brought your knuckles to his lips in a soft kiss.
Despite his brute strength you knew that this softness came naturally to him. His lips grazed gently across your knuckles, and you couldnât help but take a step closer. So hopelessly lost in his orbit, your cheeks burning at the gesture.
âI didnât realiseâŚâ
âThat I get to wear those marks as a reminder of what happened?â Laios asked, his voice low. âIâm not sorry for that.â It was obvious in his smile that he meant what he said.
Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice impossible to miss. You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his chest as his arms encircled you.
âI just donât want you to get hurt,â you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.
In this line of duty you knew it was impossible, but you could dream. At very least you could go without contributing to his injuries.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and against yours. âI can handle a few scratches,â he reassured you. âBesides, itâs worth it if it means being with you.â
âI guess so.â You smiled.
"Good." Laios murmured, his arm tightening minutely around you in a light squeeze before the hand on your hip slid back through your hair, scratching at the base of your ears teasingly before returning to hold your face.Â
He adored looking at you, and he prayed to whatever higher power would listen that someday youâd grow fond of the way he liked to stare.
Something told you he liked being marked a little more than he let on. Youâd have to note that for next time, if you were fortunate enough to have another encounter with him before this journey inevitably came to a close. He pulled your smaller frame into him, then wrapped his arms around you in a soft hug.
Laios held you close, savouring the heat and comfort of your embrace. The steady beat of his heart under your ear was soothing.
The moment was intimate and sweet, with a quiet understanding passing between the two of you before you eventually broke away, knowing that you needed to get ready for what might lie ahead.Â
The chill in the room had lessened since last night, but it still made the fur at the base of your tail bristle and stand on end. You both finished dressing in a comfortable silence before you sat back down on the edge of the bed to finish packing up your bedrolls.
Shadows danced across the decaying furniture and cracked wooden floorboards, your lantern flickering and dancing in the cool air of the dungeon. Your comrade sat down beside you, tightening the leather straps on his bag as you got ready. The silence stretched on for a while before his thoughts broke through, and he found himself musing aloud.
"...I've never wanted to be in a... relationship before, butâŚâ He trailed off, his eyes widening as he realised that heâd spoken out loud by mistake. Though his voice was barely above a whisper, he knew youâd heard it from the way you stopped mid motion to stare at him.
âBut what?â You asked, your voice gentle despite the gnawing curiosity. You tried to hide your hope for what he might say next but it would have been futile if heâd had the courage to spare a glance in your direction.
Laios simply shrugged it off, the corners of his lips pulling up into a little smile as he looked down at his hands. The memory of your fingers threading through his made him feel all warm inside. Heâd hold them all day if he could.Â
âBut with you it feels different,â he said timidly. âThereâs something about you that makes me wanna try.â
You felt a flutter in your chest at those words, your heart pounding as you scooted closer to him on the bed. The soft glow from the lantern cast an almost ethereal glow on his face, strong features softened by the caress of the warm firelight. He was a work of art in his own right, but if he had been a living painting you were sure you could spend forever in his masterpiece.
âI feel the same way,â you admitted, reaching out to gently squeeze his larger hand in your own. âBeing with you, it feels⌠right?â
He turned his head to face you then, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and relief. âI was worried it might just be me,â he confessed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Nothing had ever felt as easy as spending time alone with you did.Â
âIâve never been good at this.â Despite having said it already, he couldnât help but remind himself too.Â
You smiled reassuringly. âNeither have I, but maybe we can figure it out together.â
âRight,â he replied, still a little flustered by your gentleness with him.
It felt silly considering everything that had transpired between the two of you in the past twenty-four hours or so, but it wasnât unpleasant in the slightest. If anything, he felt strangely hopeful, but he knew it wasnât going to be easy. âI may not be good at this wholeâŚâ people thing, reading emotions, understanding the nuances of intimacyâhis mind scrambled to find the right words for a moment before he finally settled on: ârelationship thingâŚâ
âBut I wanna try.â For you, for him⌠to be able to introduce you to Falin and to see the two of you hit it off like he knew you would. âI want to be by your side.âÂ
His palm came to rest on your cheek, his thumb grazing across your cheekbone delicately. It was a strange feeling for him. Finally acknowledging that the pull heâd felt toward you was something more than simple envy or curiosity had been a huge step, to admit it out loud had been like pulling teeth. Sure, those were a part of it too, but the way you had just shown up and accepted him for what he wasâ eccentricities and all âhad his heart warming from day one. Youâd had your walls before now, but Laios was completely defenceless when it came to you.
âI want to take care of you too⌠Please bear with me?â
It was more of a plea than it should have been, but the thought of fucking this up somehow had crossed his mind countless times already since heâd woken up. It scared him, especially after the confrontation with Toshiro. He knew he had a lot to learn when it came to interpersonal relationships, heâd had to confront that head on in the days following. But he was trying .Â
The connection Laios had with you felt like a fragile yet precious thing, something worth nurturing, worth exploring. You tightened your grip on his hand again, your thumb gently caressing his soft skin.
âItâll be my pleasure.â You replied with an easy smile, leaning across the space between the two of you to press a kiss against his cheek.Â
âDonât put too much pressure on yourself, okay? I told you, I donât really know how to do this kind of thing either." You murmured, pulling him into a hug in an attempt to ease his concerns.Â
Sure you werenât completely clueless, but before now any sort of romance like this had been completely out of the question for a multitude of reasons. People on the surface werenât kind to things out of the ordinary, yourself included.
âI already like spending time with you just the way you are.â You added, your lips pressing against his collarbone.Â
He could feel the way your tail brushed against his arm through his shirt, the cosy warmth of your body pressed against his as he hugged you back.Â
Laios let out a soft sigh, the sensations making his face flush again as he squeezed you a little tighter. âYeah⌠me too.â He muttered, resting his chin on your head. It was a little embarrassing, but he couldnât help but smile at the praise and the careful way you handled him.
Your lips trailed softly against the smooth expanse of his flushed skin, kisses littering the surface while you cuddled into him. âJust let me know if itâs ever too much, okay?â
"Mhm." Laios hummed softly, content with the way you showered him with affection. He wasnât used to it either, not yet, but he definitely wouldnât mind getting more accustomed to the sweet touches. "...I will." He replied softly, though he couldnât imagine ever having too many of your comforting touches.
"Thank you." You replied, offering a soft smile in response. You pressed a gentle kiss against the sharp curve of his jaw, then ran a hand through his ash-blond hair.
The bond between you felt stronger now, more real, as if the events of the previous night had awakened something deep within you both.Â
Despite the awkward start to the morning, it was only cemented by the conversation youâd had. For a brief, precious moment, everything else faded awayâthe dungeon, the stress of this mission, the uncertainties. All that existed were the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms.
âWe should probably get ready,â you finally said, breaking the silence but not the connection. âThe others will be up soon.â
Laios nodded, his smile lingering as he reluctantly pulled away.
He didn't want to admit it, but he was already addicted to you, body and soul. Itâd only been a night, but he already couldnât get the taste of your lips out of his mind. He could only imagine-
Just then, a knock on the door broke through his thoughts as if on cue. "Are you two awake? We're getting ready to move out." Marcille called from the other side of the door.
Laios glanced at you, then back to the door. "We'll be right there," he called back. âJust putting on some extra layers.â
âSounds good, I think Senshiâs about to start on breakfast.â Marcille added, not sounding overly excited at the prospect of choking down more monster food. No matter how good Senshiâs cooking skills were, she couldnât shake the sense of dread that came upon her at the idea of eating those creatures . Her footsteps faded down the hall and back toward the others.
You couldn't help but smile back at Laios, suppressing a laugh at the way heâd frozen in place when he heard her outside.
âWe probably shouldnât tell the others yet, though.â He suggested with a sigh as he leaned down to tug his boots back on.Â
It wouldnât be a good idea, both for the fact that it would absolutely make things harder to navigate if it were out in the open already and also for the fact that Marcille was a sucker for anything involving romance. There might not be any stopping her if she found out about your âforbidden loveâ. After seeing the way sheâd gush about it anytime sheâd inquired about her friendsâ love lives, you could already hear the comments and questions ringing in your ears.
âDefinitely not.â You agreed with a shudder.
As you both got up and started to prepare for the day's journey, you felt the weight of last night's decisions begin to lift. There would be time to figure everything out.
Soon enough, the two of you made your way out into the hall, and you padded over toward the room where everyone else had already gathered. The two of you slipped in to join the group seamlessly. Cooking utensils were already clattering together as Senshi began to explain to Laios what he was doing and how he could assist in making the morning meal.Â
Izutsumi yawned and stretched, groaning at having to be awake and on the move again.Â
For someone who swore sheâd be able to brave the dungeon faster on her own, she really does love to sleep in , you thought to yourself as you tugged your jacket a little closer around yourself. You couldnât blame her though. After all, she was still growing and being constantly on the move was exhausting on the best of days.
The cat girl scowled when she caught you looking at her, and you couldnât help but smile back at the grouchy teen before Marcille quickly stole you away from the others.Â
Long, delicate fingers pressed against the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks as she began inspecting you with concern evident in her wide green eyes.
âUh⌠gwuh merninâ?â You inquired, your voice muffled by the way she pressed her hands against you.
âYouâre okay right? He didnât ask you any weird questions or make you uncomfortable-âÂ
ââm fine,â You chuckled, cutting her off as you lightly pulled her hands away from you.Â
âYou could have shared a bed with me or Izutsumi, yâknow?â The blonde reminded you of the sweet whine of her voice undercut by the Eastern girlâs protests almost immediately.Â
âDogs sleep outside.â Izutsumi grumbled, shooting a glare in your general direction.
You couldnât help but chuckle at her remark, shaking your head and offering her a semi sarcastic âGood morning to you tooâ before resuming your conversation with the mage.
With a yawn and a smile, âI actually got the best sleep Iâve had in a while,â you replied earnestly, shrugging off her coddling.
It was hard not to feel guilty about hiding something from the group that had been so kind to take you in, especially so late into their journey. They could have easily sent you away, and yet they were generous enough to share their limited resources with, as Izutsumi put it, some random stray .Â
You knew she meant well, but sometimes Marcilleâs concerns were more unsettling than the questioning you received from others in the past. At least those types tended to keep their distance more.Â
It was true that longer-lived races tended to see others as much younger than them, so you chalked it up to that whenever sheâd baby you. A little part of you did appreciate it in some strange way though. Being cared for like this was a precious thing, and she loved with her whole heart and nothing less.
If it had really been that much of an issue, youâd have made it known.
Marcille gave you one last scrutinising look before finally sighing and releasing your face.Â
âAlright, alright. Just making sure youâre okay,â she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. âWeâve got a long day ahead of us, so Iâm glad you got a good rest in. It felt good to finally sleep in a bed again after so long.â The blonde sighed.
â Really?â Chilchuck cut in, regarding Laios with a suspicious look, âBecause I couldnât sleep for a while last night.âÂ
While his gaze wasnât set on you, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the implications of what heâd said.Â
Shit.Â
Youâd forgotten about the half-foot member of your party for the better part of the night.Â
They werenât common where youâd grown up, but youâd heard tales of them and their heightened senses. Especially their heightened sense of hearing. In fact, to say that his rivalled your own would be an understatement. Thinking more clearly now, you quickly recalled all the times heâd been able to hear enemies approaching well before you could.Â
The thought made your stomach twist with unease.
Laios, seemingly having the same realisation you did, froze for a moment before trying to play it off with a nervous laugh. He casually stepped behind Senshi, as if the much shorter dwarf might be able to shield him from the half-footâs wrath. He continued on with prepping the harpy eggs, stirring them in a bowl as he spoke.Â
âMe too; it got pretty cold last night, huh?â He replied with an awkward laugh.
Yeah, you didnât want any part of whatever this might entail.Â
As much as you wanted to try and cover for him, you knew that there was no way of getting out of this. It's probably best to stay out of it. Panicking slightly, you reached out to Marcille for support with a wobbly smile on your face.Â
She was still busy getting herself ready for the day, brushing her long blonde locks as she stepped away from the others.
âHey Marcille, do you mind showing me how you braid your hair? Iâve always been curious.â You asked, doing a piss poor job of hiding your anxiety. âNo one ever taught me.â
The elf either didnât notice or was too excited at the prospect of sharing her knowledge with someone else because she happily stole you away to another part of the room. Sheâd grabbed your wrist and tugged you along to sit beside her on the nearby bed, a bright smile on her face.Â
âIâm so glad you asked! Hair is a magic userâs life force, so itâs like an extension of that. Itâs also really important to practise good hygiene and self care, especially when youâre underground like this because-âÂ
You listened to her with a smile on your face, half interested and half happy to be out of Chilchuckâs line of fire for the time being.Â
Unfortunately, your previously fearless leader wasnât so lucky.
â Laios , can I talk to you for a second?â
#beastman reader series#dunmeshi#laios x reader#laios touden x reader#gender neautral reader#gn!reader#laiso#zuma writes#beastman reader#beastkin Reader#dungeon meshi#fanfic#ao3#fluff#emotional comfort#they're doing their best#unplanned sequel#sweet
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[7] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)
Chapter 7: The Breakup
WC: 9,089 Chapter Warnings: tiniest bit of steamy but bigger angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. Note: Hi, I am back again. I know I said we might have smut this chapter but it didn't really feel right for it lol. Honestly, not very satisfied with the chapter but I hope you like it!
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When you woke up, the unfamiliar warmth of soft sheets and the faint scent of something unmistakably Levi brought you to a sudden clarity. This wasnât your apartment. You blinked, taking in your surroundingsâthe room was dimly lit, with soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Leviâs apartment. The realization settled slowly, like ripples spreading across water.
You sat up, your head heavy with a dull ache from last nightâs drinks, and as you took in the stillness of the room, memories from the last night washed over you. You groaned in annoyance with yourself. How could you let this happen? When had you been careless enough to be that drunk?
The last seven years have taken you far away from this part of your life. Perhaps it was the absence that lowered your alcohol tolerance. Perhaps it was Hangeâs mix. You donât know and you donât remember. Well, you do remember Levi arriving and helping you in fragments.
Last night was different. There had been warmth in Leviâs touch when he carried you to his bed, something almost tender in the way he looked at you, even if only for a moment. You donât remember anything after passing out on the bed, hopefully that was the only thing you did. He was nowhere to be seen, and as you sat there on the bed pondering, the soft creaks and sounds of the apartment settling only heightened the absence of him.
You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling the coolness of the morning air against your skin, protected by the fabric of Leviâs jacket. The comfort of Leviâs presence last night had been undeniable, but now, is it bad of you to hope that the tension between you two had finally subsided?Â
You stood, making the bed carefully and neatly, and made your way to the doorway. In the living room, Levi was sleeping on the single sofa, arms crossed over his chest, his head slightly tilted to the side.Â
He looked⌠worn. Even in sleep, his body held tension, his jaw slightly clenched, arms crossed over his chest like he was still defending himself from some unseen battle. His head had tipped awkwardly to the side, and the shadows under his eyes were deep, telling the story of someone who didnât rest easily. You remembered how he never had good sleeping habitsâhis insomnia was something he never spoke about in detail, but you had seen its effects more times than you could count.
Crouching down, you looked at him more closely. His sleep was shallow, restless, as if even in unconsciousness, his mind couldnât fully let go. There were faint signs of exhaustion etched across his faceâthe slight crease between his brows, the constant tension in his hands, the weariness that clung to him like a second skin.Â
You thought back to when you were together, the nights when youâd wake up and find him sitting at the edge of the bed or drinking tea. He rarely slept for more than a few hours, and when he did, it was never restful.Â
Now, seeing him like thisâcurled up on that too-small sofa, lost somewhere between exhaustion and restlessnessâit hit you how much Levi had endured. His eyes, which always carried that sharpness, were softer in sleep, but the strain remained. The man who was always composed, always in control, seemed fragile in these stolen moments of rest.
ââŚwhen the breakup happened, Levi didnât take it well.â
Kuchelâs words rang in your head, settling a frown on your face. You watched him breathe, the steady rise and fall of his chest, your hand hovering close to him but not touching. This was Leviâstrong, guarded, and yet so painfully human underneath it all. Seven years and this hasnât changed for Levi.Â
In this city where much has changed, you wonder what else has remained?Â
Levi stirred, his brow furrowing before his eyes slowly blinked open. He blinked again, his sharp gaze instantly locking onto you crouching beside him, your face only inches away from his. His expression shifted from sleepy confusion to guarded awareness in a split second, his body tensing as though he was expecting something.
You froze, caught in the act, your breath hitching. The silence hung heavy between you, as his sleepy, narrowed eyes tried to process the situation.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â His voice was rough, still thick with sleep, but there was that familiar edge to it, the one that made you think he wasnât too pleased with the unexpected proximity.
You scrambled to stand up, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. âI⌠I didnât mean to wake you. You just lookedâŚâ You trailed off, unsure of how to explain why you had been crouched there watching him sleep.
He let out a slow, deep exhale, shifting his position as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes softened for just a moment, but his guard was quickly back up, the tired lines on his face doing little to hide his discomfort at being caught like this.
âDidnât mean to wake me?â he repeated, voice laced with skepticism, âYouâre practically breathing down my neck.â
You winced, your embarrassment deepening. âI was just⌠worried. You donât look like youâve slept much.â You couldnât help the concern that laced your voice, remembering all the times he would wake up in the middle of the night, never admitting how little sleep he actually got.
Leviâs expression shifted slightly at your words, but he brushed it off with a dismissive grunt. âIâm fine.â He stood up, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, clearly trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He was stiff, his movements betraying how uncomfortable that small sofa had been, but he didnât say anything about it.
The awkward tension lingered between you as he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing down the disarray caused by sleep. He glanced at you again, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he spoke, voice quieter now. âYou shouldnât stare at people when theyâre asleep.â
âIâll try to remember that,â you murmured, eyes lowering as you awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other.
Leviâs gaze lingered on you for a second longer, then he sighed. âDo you want tea?âÂ
He walked toward the kitchen without waiting for your response, but the stiffness in his steps didnât go unnoticed. For a few minutes, you stand there in the living room alone, a strange mix of emotions settled in your chestârelief, awkwardness, and something else.Â
In the kitchen, Levi was standing by the stove with a tea cup in his hand. His back was turned to you, his posture rigid, his face unreadable. The warmth from last night seemed to have vanished, replaced by the familiar, distant version of Levi you had always struggled to understand.
He didnât turn when he heard your footsteps, didnât offer a greeting or acknowledge your presence in any obvious way. The silence between you was heavy, and suddenly, you felt like an intruder in a space that was no longer yours.
âMorning,â you said quietly, lingering by the doorway. Your voice sounded small, hesitant.
Levi didnât respond immediately. He took a sip of his tea, still staring out the window. When he finally spoke, his tone was flat, almost indifferent. âCoffee or tea. Help yourself.â
The casualness of his words made your chest tighten. After last night, you had expectedâmaybe even hopedâfor something more. You even joked a little in the car. But now, it was as though nothing had changed at all, as though the small, unspoken connection you had felt last night had dissolved with the morning light.
You stepped into the kitchen and prepared yourself a cup of tea, the clink of the cup against the counter louder than it should have been in the quiet apartment.
âI didnât mean to impose last night,â you said softly, gripping the cup a little tighter than necessary. âThanks for letting me stay and take the bed. It ruined your sleep.â
Levi finally glanced over at you, his expression neutral. âI told you it wasnât a big deal. And I donât use the bed much, anyway.â
You paused. âDo you still have trouble sleeping?â
He doesnât answer. You took a sip of your tea, the taste of his premium tea leaves grounding you in the awkwardness of the moment. âRight,â you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. âNo big deal.â
The two of you stood there in the kitchen, silence filling the space between you as you indulge yourself with the warm drink.Â
âLevi,â you began, your voice hesitant. You werenât even sure what you wanted to say. Maybe you wanted to ask him why he had shown up outside your apartment, why he had seemed so different last night. Or maybe you just wanted to bridge the gap between the person you used to know and the man standing in front of you now.
But before you could say more, Levi cut you off, his voice low but firm. âYou should head home after tea. Youâll feel better after you rest.â
It wasnât a harsh dismissal, but it was enough to tell you that he wasnât ready to talk. And maybe you werenât either. Despite feeling wrong, you nod and turn your back on him. The years apart had created a distance that couldnât be bridged by one day. There were too many things left unsaid, too many pieces of your lives that had moved in different directions. But you should at least try to settle some things. Besides, that talk with Kuchel really got to you.Â
But something inside you refused to let this be the end of the conversation. You turned back toward Levi, your voice soft but determined.
âLevi⌠can weââ you hesitated, trying to find the right words. âCan we talk?â
For a moment, Levi didnât move. He stood at the counter, his back to you, gripping the cup in his hands. The air between you grew heavy, thick with unspoken things. When he finally turned, his face was calm, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed himâan intensity you hadnât expected.
âTalk?â he repeated, his voice low. It wasnât sharp, but there was a weight to it. âAbout what?â
The directness of his question hit you harder than you expected. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.
 âI just⌠I know things didnât end well between us. And I want to know if we canâŚâ You faltered, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. What were you asking for? Friendship? Closure?
Levi raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. He looked tired, as though this conversation was something heâd been bracing for, but also something he didnât want to face. âYou want to fix things? Is that it?â
âI donât know if itâs about fixing things,â you admitted softly, shifting your weight awkwardly. âI just⌠I donât want things to be like this between us anymore.â
His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was trying to figure out what you really meant. He let out a breath, setting the cup down on the counter with a soft clink. âYou think we can just⌠talk and things will magically be fine again?â
You shook your head, stepping a little closer. âNo. But we could at least try to talk about it.â
Leviâs expression didnât change much, but you could see his jaw tightening. âYou left without a word,â he said quietly, the frustration finally seeping through. âDidnât even say goodbye. And now you want to talk?â
The pain in his voice was subtle, but it was there, cutting deeper than you had expected.Â
You understand now that time doesnât heal everything for everyone. If Levi, the kind person that you know he is, still holds a grudge against you like this, you mustâve hurt him immensely. If you were still as closed off as you were, you wouldâve told him off for this as you did back when you first saw each other.Â
But now, you flinched, swallowing hard. âI didnât leave because of you, Levi,â you started, your voice wavering. âIt wasnât like that.â
âThen what was it like?â he asked, crossing his arms. He wasnât angryâat least, not in the way he usually was when something upset him. He just looked⌠tired. Tired of this, tired of you bringing it up.
You looked down, your hands fidgeting at your sides. âI left because I needed to figure things out for myself. My future. My career. It wasnât about usââ
Levi scoffed, shaking his head, cutting you off. âIt was always about us. Donât act like it wasnât.â
His words stung, and your chest tightened. âThatâs not fair,â you whispered, but even as you said it, you knew he wasnât entirely wrong. You had left to chase something more for yourself, but in doing so, you had severed ties without even explaining. The guilt that had lingered for so long resurfaced, leaving you feeling exposed.
Levi took a step forward, his voice quiet but firm. âYou just left, like what we had didnât matter. Like I didnât matter.â
You wanted to argue, to defend yourself, but your throat tightened, choking back the words. You remembered how things ended between youâhow, instead of explaining yourself, youâd shut him out completely. Youâd thought it would be easier that way. You were wrong.
âI thought⌠I thought youâd be fine without me,â you said, your voice breaking slightly.Â
Leviâs expression darkened, his fists clenching. âYou thought Iâd be fine?â His voice was sharp now, but it was the kind of sharpness that came from hurt, not anger. âYou think it was that easy?â
You couldnât meet his gaze, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. âIâm sorry, Levi. I didnât know how to stay. I didnât know how toâŚâ
I didnât know how to be enough.
Leviâs frustration flared again, but there was something else in his eyes nowâsomething raw and vulnerable beneath the subtle anger.Â
âBecause I wasnât enough for your dreams,â he snapped. âYou left without looking back, like I wasnât enough to make you stay. And now that you learn Iâm successful, you want to make amends?â
You opened your mouth to respond, to explain, but the words got caught in your throat. The accusation lingered in more of an offensive way but at the same time, you get him. How could you explain something that had been eating away at you for so long? It angers and pains you that he thinks of you this way. But what can he do when it was your own fault that he had this image of you?Â
âI⌠Iâm sorry,â you said softly, your voice breaking. What were you saying sorry for? A million things. Two words are nearly not enough for your regrets and mistakes. âItâs not like that.â âYou keep saying that,â he stepped closer to you, face inches away from yours. âYou keep saying it wasnât like that but Iâm not hearing the explanation.â "I know it hurt you. But⌠it was never about us, not like you think. I justâ" She faltered, trying to hold his gaze. "I didnât know how else to handle things back then. Couldnât we at least try to find some middle ground?"Â
Levi stared at you, his breathing heavy, his frustration mounting, as if what you asked of him was what triggered his anger. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out of him, as if he was too speechless and offended.
And then, without warning, he moved. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, hands caging in on your face. You barely had time to react before his lips crashed against yours, silencing whatever you had been about to say.
It was intense, almost desperate, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into that single moment.
It wasnât gentle, and it wasnât tender. The kiss was filled with everything unsaid, all the anger, the longing, the pain that had built up between you over the years. His grip loosened almost instantly as if he was giving you the chance to push him away, his other hand finding the small of your back loosely. Your mind went blank, your heart racing as you responded instinctively, your body betraying the emotions youâd been trying to suppress. You kissed him back with as much passion, a hand shooting up to rest on his shoulder.
With acceptance on your part, he presses his hand on your back, pushing your bodies closer together. Hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the small of your back. He pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted it, he explored your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.
Leviâs hands slid up your body, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head to gain better access. He kissed you like a man possessed, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth, every sensation, every taste. It was overwhelming, consuming, and you found yourself responding in kind, your own desire rising to meet his.
For a moment, the world around you disappeared, and it was just the two of youâcaught in a storm of emotions neither of you had been able to express. When Levi finally pulled away, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.
âYou donât get to walk back into my life like nothing happened,â he whispered, his voice rough, his eyes still closed. âBut Iâll accept your apology if you tell me one thing.â
You stared at him, stunned, your lips still tingling from the force of the kiss. âLeviâŚâ you whispered, your voice trembling, unsure of what to say. You had expected an argument, maybe a cold rejection, but not this. Not the raw, unchecked passion that had just erupted between you.
You took a shaky breath, steadying yourself as the silence stretched between you. The intensity of Leviâs kiss still lingered on your lips, but you knew this moment couldnât end like thisâwithout clarity, without addressing the feelings that had been left festering for years. You werenât sure how to navigate the conversation ahead, but you knew it needed to happen.
âWhy did you leave?â His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the anger simmering underneath.
You froze. You knew this question was coming, had expected it, but now that it was here, you felt the weight of it crush your chest. You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came out at first. The real answerâthe full answerâfelt too dangerous, too raw.
âI⌠I needed space,â you said, your voice barely above a whisper. âI needed to figure out things. I wasnât ready for everything that was happening. I wasnât ready for usâŚâ
Leviâs eyes darkened, and you could see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. âThatâs not the whole truth,â he said, his voice sharp. âYou left without a word, without even explaining. And now you expect me to believe it was just because you âneeded space?ââ
You flinched at his words, but you didnât have an answer that would satisfy him. He wasnât wrong. There was more to why you left, but the truth felt like too much to bear right now. âItâs complicated, Levi. IâI canât explain everything. Not yet.â
âNot yet?â Leviâs voice rose, his anger spilling over. âYouâve had years to figure it out, and you still canât give me a real answer? After everything?â His voice echoed in your mind, the accusation laced with disbelief.Â
You didnât know what answer he wanted, what answer could ever fix the damage that had been done. You had thought about this moment a thousand times beforeâimagined what you might say, how you might explain why you left, why you didnât say goodbye, why you broke his heart without looking back. But now, standing here, with his anger burning in the space between you, the words youâd rehearsed felt hollow.
His next words cut deeper. âYou ran,â he said, and you flinched, the truth of it like a slap. âYou always run when things get hard.â You felt your pulse quicken, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. He wasnât wrong. You did run. You ran from him, from the life you thought you couldnât have, from the overwhelming fear that you werenât enough, that you couldnât hold it all together.
âYou know what Hange told me when she first saw you again? You cried. You cried in her arms like a child. Donât expect me to believe that meant nothing but missing a friend.âÂ
You closed your eyes, remembering the moment you saw Hange again. The way everything you had been holding in, all the grief and guilt, came rushing out the moment she hugged you. It wasnât just missing a friendâit was the overwhelming realization that you hadnât let yourself feel anything for so long. You had locked it all away, telling yourself that it was better this way, that you were stronger alone. But seeing Hange again had broken the dam. You had cried because, for the first time in years, you realized how much emotions youâve been hiding away. And in that moment, you realized just how much you missed the people you had left behindâhow much you missed the old you.Â
âYou always run when things get hard. And you always leave me behind like I donât matter.â Hearing him say it out loudâit crushed you in ways you hadnât expected. Because he wasnât wrong. You had left him behind, not just physically, but emotionally.
That stung. âThatâs not true,â you snapped back, your voice trembling. Deep inside, you know heâs right. But you didnât want to accept it. Youâve put on multiple walls for the past seven years and even before that. You donât know how to accept yourself and thatâs the truth. But he never meant nothing to you. Not in the slightest.Â
âIâm the one lying?â Leviâs voice was filled with disbelief.Â
You didnât want to admit it to Leviânot now, not when he was standing there, looking at you with so much anger, with so much painâbut he was right. You had left him behind like he didnât matter, even though he had been the only thing that mattered for so long. You couldnât deny that, no matter how much you wanted to.
But what could you say to him now? What could you possibly tell him that would make this any better? The truth was too complicated, too messy. You had run because you didnât know what else to do. You didnât know how to stay, how to let him in. And now, all these years later, you still didnât have the answers he deserved.
You could feel the conversation spiraling, slipping out of control. The more Levi spoke, the more you could feel the anger and hurt from both sides surfacing. âI didnât know what else to do!â you shot back, your voice louder now, matching his intensity. âI thought it was the right thing at the time.â
âWell, it obviously wasnât!â Levi shouted, stepping closer to you, his eyes burning with frustration. âYou didnât give me a choice. You just insulted me and let me figure it out on my own.â
The words hit you like a slap in the face, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid for years. You could see the pain in Leviâs eyes, but beneath it all, there was still something elseâsomething vulnerable that he was trying to hide.
You opened your mouth to speak, to try and explain again, but before you could get a word out, Levi grabbed you. His hand gripped your arm, and in an instant, his lips were on yoursârough, urgent, cutting off whatever you were about to say again.Â
âStop it,â he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. âStop making excuses or Iâm going to kiss you again.â
Your breath caught in your throat. His words hung in the air, and the tension between you was palpable. The heat of the moment was overwhelming, his nearness pulling you in despite everything.Â
âItâs your choice,â he repeats.
You searched his face, trying to find the right words, something that would break through the anger and pain, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasnât in the mood for more of your excuses and vague words.
âLeviâŚâ you whispered, but before you could say anything more, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips, the threat of another kiss looming between you. You knew he meant every word, and the intensity of it all made your heart pound even harder.
His voice was rough, but there was something raw beneath it, something unspoken that you couldnât ignore. âIâm serious. One more excuse, and I wonât stop myself.â
You swallowed hard, torn between the instinct to push him away and the undeniable pull that still lingered between you. The anger and hurt were still there, but so was everything elseâthe longing, the lust.
The room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking as Leviâs words echoed in your mind. The look in his eyes dared you to say something more, but the weight of everything kept you silent. And maybe it was the way he had already kissed you two times that you yearned for more.Â
Maybe it was how he looked awfully beautiful in his in-house morning clothes. Maybe it was the way his lips looked soft enough as a pillow that you want to lie on. Maybe you just missed his touch that you werenât able to think straight. Maybe it was the painâthe longing that threw all the rationalities out of the window.Â
âKiss me again.âÂ
Leviâs eyes widened for a moment, a flash of pain across his glossy eyes until it was replaced by clouded lust.Â
He leaned in with his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, as if he was fighting his own desires. You almost flinch when his head drops on your shoulder, subtly nuzzling his nose on the skin of your neck.
âThen at least tell me this,â he mutters. âAre you really okay now?â
Tears fill your eyes and you let out a deep exhale.
âYes,â I whisper while nodding, looking straight ahead. âYes, I am.âÂ
And that wasnât a lie. He knows that.
With a soft groan, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.Â
His tongue dances with yours, his hand sliding up your back to cup your head, pulling you even closer. His other hand moves to your waist, his fingers gripping your hips as he deepens the kiss.Â
You start letting out soft grunts as if trying to tell him how pleasurable it is for you, as he latches his lips to the curve of your neck. You gasp for air when he sucks on your sensitive skin, only the ceiling in sight as your eyes roll to the back of your head. It had you holding on his shoulder for dear life.
"Levi," you moan, shivering and grasping at his hair as he attacks your neck with open-mouth kisses. Levi nips at your jaw next, harsh as if he was devouring you.
His roaming hands finally made their way to your chest, palm over your breast. He squeezes once, slowly but hard. Realizing your shirt was getting in the way, his hand slips inside the skin tight cloth to the clasp of your bra.Â
And then he freezes.Â
As if he was thrown ice-cold water, he pulls away. He stumbled back a step, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide in shock. His gaze flickered between you and the space between you, as though he was trying to make sense of the moment. You stare back at him, breathless and probably looking like a mess.Â
You blink, your own breathing labored, and the reality of what just happened hit you like a wave.Â
You continued to stare at him, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The tension that had been building, the unspoken emotions, the years of unresolved feelingsâit had all come to a head in that kiss. And now you were both standing there, stunned by the gravity of what had just happened.
Levi ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. His usual composed self had cracked, and you could see the confusion and regret warring in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head slightly as if he couldn't find the right words.
The silence was unbearable. You wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but nothing came out. You just stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, realizing that the line between you and Levi had just been blurred in a way you hadn't anticipated.
Levi finally broke the silence, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. "I... Sorry." His eyes dropped to the floor, as if he couldn't bring himself to look at you. âI think we got carried away.âÂ
You couldn't find your voice, your mind still reeling. You knew he was rightâthis wasn't supposed to happen. But it had.
And now everything feels even more complicated than ever before.
When are you going to make the right decision?
Leviâs grip on the counter was tight, his knuckles white, as if holding onto something solid could stop the whirlwind of emotions spinning inside him. His broad back was tense, shoulders stiff like he was bracing himself for something. You watched him, feeling the weight of the silence between you both, the air thick with everything left unsaid. The view of his back reminded you too much of that nightâthe night you walked away, leaving him with his heart shattered, and now here you were again, uncertain, fragile.
Your heart raced in your chest, waiting, praying for him to break the silence. You needed him to speak, to say something, anything to ground you in the moment, to pull you away from the memories. Then, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the quiet, low and careful.
âI can offer friendship,â `he said, his voice strained, as if the words were dragging out of him. âSlowly. If you want it.â
Your stomach twisted at his offer. Friendship. The idea felt both like a lifeline and a blade. After everything, all the history, the love, the pain, he was offering you the safety of friendship because thatâs what Levi didâhe built walls to protect what was left of himself. You could hear the fear behind his words, the hesitation, like he was terrified of opening himself up to you again. And yet, part of you understood. Starting over felt impossible; youâd both been broken by what happened, and it scared him just as much as it scared you.
You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke. âIs that what you want?â
His shoulders shifted slightly, but he didnât turn to face you. âI donât know,â he admitted, his voice almost too quiet. âBut I know I canât⌠risk everything again. Not right now.â
His words stung, but you couldnât blame him. The kiss had stirred things up, emotions both of you had buried long ago, and now you were both standing on the edge of something dangerous, something you werenât sure either of you could survive if it went wrong again.
You took a shaky breath, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of what you wanted. Did you want friendship? Could you even be just friends with him after everything? The thought seemed impossible. But maybe he was right. Maybe it was all either of you could handle right now.
âOkay,â you whispered, unsure if you meant it, but needing to say something. âFriends, then.â
Levi exhaled sharply, like heâd been holding his breath the entire time, but he still didnât turn around. The silence stretched on again, heavy with the weight of everything left unspoken between you. You could feel it in the airâthe unresolved hurt, the lingering desire, and now this fragile truce you were trying to build, one step at a time.
The sight of his back still haunted you, a reminder of all the ways youâd hurt him before. But this time, as painful as it was, you stayed. You werenât walking away. Not again.
You stepped closer but not approaching him entirely, careful not to break the chance given to you. You donât know what to do with yourselfâhow to step outside yourself. But you were willing to try.
âIâll make it up to you, Levi,â you whispered, loud enough for him to hear.Â
Those words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of promises that neither of you knew if you could keep. The truth was, you didnât know how youâd make it up to him. How could you? After everything that had happened, after all the years youâd spent apart, it felt impossible to bridge the distance between you. But you had to try. He was giving you thisâfriendship, the smallest of openingsâand you would take it, even if it hurt. Because it was Levi.
Levi, the one person who had meant more to you than anyone else.
And now, standing in his kitchen, the same man who had once been your entire world was offering you a lifeline, even if it was wrapped in his own fear and hesitation. You could feel his reluctance, the way he was trying to protect himself from being hurt again. But you could also sense the vulnerability beneath it all, the part of him that still cared, despite everything.
You didnât expect him to answer right away. Levi was always slow to speak when it came to his feelings. He wasnât the type to lay everything out in the open. You knew that about him. But still, the longer the silence stretched on, the more anxious you became. Maybe you had said the wrong thing. Maybe he didnât believe you could make it up to him. Maybe he didnât believe in second chances.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, though you could hear the cracks in his composure. âAlright. Make it up to me.â
Levi felt her drifting away.Â
It was in the middle of the last semester before they graduated. Obviously, their schedules were hectic. She was barely around to study with him. Before, even if they were as busy as this, they would find time to be together, and even if they were not remotely doing anything romantic per se, they were still together, spending time and feeling each otherâs warmth. Levi couldnât even keep up with what sheâs doing anymore, always running around somewhere he doesnât know about. Whenever he asks, you do tell him but itâs not like he could force you to stop. Before he knew it, things were piling up on him too.Â
That night, Levi hadnât seen you for over a week. Your conversations had become few and far between, your texts cold and distant. But he convinced himself it was just stress. You were busy; you both were. He planned a quiet evening together, something to help you both relax and remind you that everything was going to be fine.
You just needed a break, thatâs what he told himself.Â
So when the doorbell rang unexpectedly, his heart skipped. Maybe youâd missed him as much as he missed you. The past weeks had driven him crazy. All he wanted was to see you, to hold you, to feel like you were still okay. With him, with the two of you.
Levi opened the door, excitement barely contained in his movements. There you were, standing still and quiet on his doorstep. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a hug, a rare gesture from him, one he reserved almost entirely for you. But something was wrong. Your body was stiff, unmoving in his arms. It felt like hugging a mannequinâcold and unresponsive. It worried him but hasn't addressed it yet.
âIâm almost done cooking pasta,â he informs you, guiding you to the kitchen. You follow him quietly, grim and almost soullessly. It was time that he had enough of you looking like that. He needed to know what was on your mind.
âBaby?â he whispered, worry creeping into his voice.
He stepped back, reluctantly letting you go, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of warmth, of familiarity. But there was none. You look up to face him with an expression he didnât recognizeâcold, distant, like a stranger. His heart dropped.
Levi repeated by calling your name, this time more carefully, as if saying your name too loudly might shatter you. His voice was soft, pleading, hoping for some sign that this wasnât what it looked like.
âLevi,â you said, but your voice was distant, detached. You said his name like it was unfamiliar, like youâd never said it before, as if you were reading it off a page.
A knot twisted in his chest. âBaby⌠whatâare you okay?â
You closed your eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength, and when you spoke again, your words came out softly but with an edge that cut straight through him. âI⌠I canât do this anymore.â
His heart sank further. âWhat do you mean?â His voice was calm, but inside, he was fighting the panic rising in his chest. He knew what you were saying, but he wasnât ready to face it. As he says that, he leans on the kitchen for support for whatever you had to say.
âThis,â you said, gesturing between you two. âUs. Itâs not working.â
âWhat the fuck do you mean?â he snapped, frustration bubbling up inside him.
âUs, Levi. Weâre not working,â you said quietly, but with a firmness that left no room for misunderstanding.
Levi didnât respond at first. He just stared at the floor, the tension between you thick and heavy. You werenât sure if he hadnât heard you, or if he was just trying to figure out how to respond. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.
âI donât understand,â he shook his head, his voice growing desperate. âDonât be like that. Tell me whatâs wrong. IâIâll make it work.â
You shook your head, your expression unchanging. âYou.â
âMe?â His jaw clenched, frustration and hurt swirling inside him. His voice was low, controlled, but you could hear the edge of frustration underneath. âWhat do you mean, me?âÂ
You swallowed hard, your heart racing. He can see that you were having a hard time. âI donât see you anymore,â you said, your voice cracking just a little.
He scoffed, pushing off the counter and taking a step toward you. âOf course you donât! Youâve been pushing me away! Iâve been trying to see you, to be with you, but youâve shut me out. Is that all this is?âÂ
âNo, Levi, thatâs not what I meant,â you said, exasperation seeping into your voice.Â
âThen what?â he demanded, his voice rising as the desperation took over.Â
You hesitated, your breath shaky. âI donât⌠see you in my future.â
The room fell silent. The air grew thick with the weight of your words. Leviâs eyes widened as he processed what you had just said, each word feeling like a punch to the gut.
âWhat?â His voice came out weak, barely above a whisper. âWhat?â He repeated, louder this time, his disbelief palpable.
âMy plans, your plans⌠they donât align,â you said softly, your gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of the words was too much.
His jaw tightened, and he shook his head slightly. âIâll make them align. Itâs not as hard as you think.âÂ
âItâs not that simple,â you replied, your voice steady, but the finality in your tone sent a shiver down his spine.Â
âYes, it is! You just donât want to take the risk, do you? You donât want to take a chance on us, on me.â Leviâs eyes flickered with somethingâhurt, anger, disappointmentâit was hard to tell.Â
ââŚNo, I donât,â you admitted after a long, agonizing pause.
A bitter laugh escaped Leviâs lips. âSo thatâs it, huh? You think so little of me?â
âI do,â you said, your voice unwavering. âYou donât have a plan, Levi. Youâre getting a business degree because you donât know what else to do. You donât have dreams, not like I do. I canât afford to take that risk with you,â you babbled on, your frustration bubbling to the surface.
âI donât want to hurt you,â you said softly, feeling the weight of your own words crushing you. âBut I canât stay.â
His breath caught in his throat. âHave you always thought this about me? Always?â
âYes,â you said, without hesitation.
Leviâs face hardened. He turned away from you, his back tense. âIs that why youâve always put me last? Because you think Iâm just some spoiled, grumpy brat?âÂ
âYes,â you said, your tone flat, emotionless.
âSo Iâm supposed to believe you never loved me at all?â His voice cracked, anger and heartbreak bleeding into each word.
Levi stood still, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. For a moment, you thought he might say somethingâanything to make you stay. But when he turned back to face you, his eyes were cold, detached.
âNo,â you whispered. âI did love you.â
Leviâs heart sunk more than it could. Did. So you donât even love him now? He doesnât understand. He wants you to make him understand.
âThen why?â he asked, voice trembling. âWhy are you throwing us away?â
Your eyes finally lifted to meet his, and the softness in your gaze returned, just for a moment. âBecause I have to. Youâre the only part of my life Iâm willing to let go.â
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Levi stood frozen, his back still at you, his world crumbling around him.Â
The weight of that sentence crushed him, making him feel small, insignificant, like everything heâd thought you two had built meant nothing. Out of all the things in your lifeâthe stress, the pressure, the strugglesâhe was the easiest to discard. It was as if his presence, his love, had been optional all along, something you could abandon when things got too heavy.Â
He had always tried to be your constant, your steady hand when everything else felt out of control. And now, hearing that he was the only part of your life you could afford to lose, he realized just how replaceable heâd been to you. It tore at him, leaving him feeling hollow and questioning whether heâd ever really mattered at all.Â
But what can he do when youâve made up your mind?
And so, even though it hurt more than he ever thought it would, he let you go.
âFine,â he said, his voice low and bitter. âDo what you need to do.â
He just stood there, watching you go, the start of the distance between you two that would only grow as the years go on.
He could still remember that night vividly, the finality of your words sinking in as you walked out of his apartment, out of his life. He replayed every moment over and over, trying to understand where things had gone wrong. How had he not seen it coming? He thought everything was fine, maybe strained, but nothing that couldnât be fixed. He was wrong.
Everyday went on like he was dragging his feet. You would not even look at him on campus, making it so that his schedule would not align with yours.Â
Hange and Erwin were torn. They were his friend first but you had already wiggled your way into their hearts. Despite you hurting him, he hoped that it was something temporaryâa lapse of judgment, one could say. So, he gestured Hange to still accompany you at times, making sure youâre eating right and taking care of yourself. Even at a distance. He believed that he could make it happen. He would just have to wait for you.
That was until you left without a trace.Â
The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the empty streets as Levi made his way to the bar. Erwin had called earlier, insisting they meet for drinksâsomething Levi had been avoiding ever since you left. It had been a few weeks since graduation, and Levi still wasnât ready to face the world outside of his apartment, let alone his friends. But after persistent texts and missed calls, heâd finally relented. He didnât want to talk, but maybe being with Erwin and Hange would help distract him.
As he pushed open the door to the bar, he immediately spotted them at a corner table, Hange waving him over with her usual exuberance. Erwin gave a more subdued nod, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched Levi approach. Levi sat down without a word, not bothering with the pleasantries.
âGlad you could finally make it,â Hange said with a smile, though Levi could see the concern behind her eyes. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. âHowâve you been holding up?â
Levi shrugged, avoiding eye contact. âFine.â
Hange exchanged a glance with Erwin, who leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. âYou donât have to pretend with us, you know,â Erwin said gently, his voice calm but firm. âWe know about what happened. Weâve been worried.â
Levi stiffened, his gaze dropping to the table. He hadnât talked to anyone about the breakup. The thought of explaining how youâd left him, how you said he wasnât part of your future, was unbearable. But Erwin wasnât going to let it go that easily.
âLevi,â Hange said, her tone softening. âWe know sheâs gone.â
Leviâs stomach dropped at the sound of your name, and he finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. âWhat do you mean, âgoneâ?â
Hange blinked, taken aback. âYou donât know?â
âKnow what?â
Erwin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. âSheâs left the city, Levi.â
Leviâs heart skipped a beat, and he felt the air leave his lungs. âWhat?â
Hange bit her lip before leaning closer, her voice gentle but hesitant. âI went to her place. You know, to check on her. I was worried when she hadnât been around, and⌠well, itâs not her place anymore. Thereâs someone else living there now.â
Leviâs chest tightened as the words sank in. You hadnât just broken up with himâyouâd left. Without a word. Without telling him. âWhat do you mean, someone else is living there?â His voice was low, almost a growl, but Hange didnât flinch.
âI spoke to the new tenants,â she explained. âApparently, she and her grandma moved out a while ago. Sold the place. Itâs like she⌠disappeared.â
Levi felt a cold chill run down his spine. He had known something was wrong when you broke things off, but he hadnât expected this. He hadnât expected you to leave everything behind. âWhy didnât she say anything?â His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotion heâd been trying to suppress for weeks.
Erwin sighed, his hands clasped on the table. âWe donât know, Levi. I wish we had more answers.â
Leviâs mind raced, trying to piece together what couldâve happened. He knew youâd been under a lot of stress, but he never imagined it would lead to this. Moving out of the city, selling the house you shared with your grandmotherâthat wasnât just a breakup. That was cutting ties completely. Why would you do that? Why didnât you tell him?
âI donât understand,â Levi muttered, more to himself than to them. His thoughts were spinning out of control. The cold distance in your eyes that last night, the way youâd told him he didnât fit into your futureâit all made sense now. You had been planning this for longer than heâd realized. Heâd been so focused on trying to make things work between the two of you that he didnât see the signs of something much bigger happening in your life.
Hange leaned forward, her voice softening. âLevi, maybe⌠maybe there was something else going on. Something she didnât feel like she could talk about.â
âLike what?â he snapped, but immediately regretted it. Hange didnât deserve his anger. She was just trying to help.
Hange hesitated, glancing at Erwin again before speaking. âWe donât know. But people donât just disappear like that for no reason.â
Levi clenched his fists, his mind going back to all the moments he had missed, the times you had pulled away or brushed him off. He thought you were just busy, just stressed about school and your future. But there had been more, hadnât there? And he had been too blind to see it.
âShe didnât even tell me,â Levi muttered bitterly, the betrayal cutting deeper now. âShe didnât even tell me she was leaving.â
Erwin placed a hand on Leviâs shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. âThat doesnât mean she didnât care, Levi.â
Levi shook his head, pulling away from Erwinâs touch. He couldnât accept that right now. You had walked away from him, from everything, and hadnât looked back. How was he supposed to believe you cared? If you had, you wouldâve told him. You wouldnât have left him here, in this city, to find out from someone else. Was he so repulsive that you would leave a city you told him you would never leave?Â
The cafĂŠ was suddenly too quiet, too suffocating. Levi stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back. âI need some air.â
Hange opened her mouth to protest, but Erwin held up a hand, signaling her to let him go. Levi walked out of the cafĂŠ and into the cool night, the sounds of the city barely registering in his mind. He stood on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the passing cars, his thoughts spinning in a million directions.
You were gone. Really gone.
And for the first time since that night, it felt real. The hope he had clung toâthe hope that maybe you just needed space, that maybe you would come backâit was gone. You had moved on, left the city, left him behind.
Levi pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady his breathing. The ache in his heart was unbearable, the weight of it pressing down on him until he could barely stand. He had been fooling himself, thinking that this was something you both could fix. But it wasnât. You were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He thought back to all the times youâd talked about your future, about the things you wanted to accomplish, the life you wanted to build. He had always assumed heâd be a part of that. But now, standing on the cold street outside the bar, Levi realized that he never had been. You had left him behind long before that final conversation.
Levi ran a hand through his hair, feeling the anger and sadness churn inside him. You were meant for bigger things, and he⌠he was just a part of the life you left behind. He felt insignificant, like a small chapter in your story that didnât matter anymore. And the worst part was, he couldnât blame you for it.
The day after you left, Levi didnât even get out of bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a lead blanket. His mind swirled with disbelief. He could still hear your voice, still feel the coldness of your touch when you said you didnât see him in your future. It felt like his entire world had crumbled beneath him, leaving nothing but emptiness. Levi wasnât one for breakdowns, but that morning, he didnât have the strength to face anything. Not the day, not the world, not even himself. He was too stunned, too shattered.
Days blurred into weeks, and Levi found himself trapped in a cycle of withdrawal. He barely left his apartment, hiding away from everything that reminded him of you. His phone buzzed now and then, messages from Hange or Erwin, but he ignored them. What was there to say? He knew they would ask about you, and he wasnât ready to explain, to admit that you were gone for good. The thought of telling anyone made him feel nauseous, like acknowledging it out loud would make it even more real than it already was.
At first, Levi convinced himself that you just needed time. Thatâs what he kept telling himself. Maybe youâd come back, maybe youâd realize youâd made a mistake, and things would go back to the way they were. But with each passing day, that hope dimmed until it was nothing more than a flicker in the back of his mind. You werenât coming back.
And it was his fault, wasnât it? He had never been good enough for you. You were destined for something bigger, something more than what he could offer. He was just⌠Levi. Some guy getting a degree in business because he didnât know what else to do. He wasnât like you, with your drive and your dreams. Youâd always been so full of ambition, talking about all the things you wanted to accomplish, all the places you wanted to go. And him? He didnât have that. He was fine with just being by your side, supporting you in whatever way he could, but he shouldâve known that wasnât enough.
Levi spent hours sitting in his living room, staring blankly at nothing in particular, the silence of his apartment suffocating. Heâd barely eaten in days, and his sleep was restless, haunted by memories of you. There was still your perfume on his dresser, and every time he caught a whiff of it, his chest tightened painfully.
Š levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. reblogs, asks, and comments are also greatly appreciated. thank you.
#levi x reader#attack on titan fanfic#attack on titan x reader#levi ackerman#levi ackerman angst#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#levi imagine#levi fluff#levi x you#shingeki no kyoujin x reader#snk x reader#levi angst
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Cosette's accustoming to the convent school life.
Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.
#Les miserables#les mis#My Post#Cosette#The Lark#Convent Student#Jean Valjean#Father and daughter#Owl and Wren#Fauchelevent#Convent Family#Gardeners and a student#The Convent#Tw:PTSD#It's really good to see her mind slight changed during this period...#But this shows that she was still dealing with the abuse at the same time.#Slowly and slowly the Bad Memory could worn out.#But I don't think that she finally removed it from her mind.#And by the way. This is the final part of Volume 2!#We've already finished 2/5.#The Brick#Il cuore di Cosette#Les Mis Letters
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The Beauty of Broken Things
Barbatos x GN!Reader
Content warnings: SFW; reader with (vague) mental health issues; Reader has self-deprecating thoughts and low self-esteem; hurt/comfort; lots of dialogue; romance; first kiss (cuz I'm a sap đ)
Author's Note: Not me coming out of hiatus to drop this at 1:20am on a weekday. ANYWAY.... I was going through it a month or so ago and this was very therapeutic and self-indulgent to write. Hopefully you'll find some comfort in it as well. đ
You creep into the RAD greenhouse under the cover of the Devildom darkness. The warm yellow lights, usually on to allow students to observe and take notes,  are turned off for the evening, causing the devildom flora to transform from something familiar to something alien, branches reaching like arms and long, pointed leaves stretched out like grasping fingers.
But despite the sinister threat of danger that is interlaced in the native plant life, it still feels comforting. The gnarled limbs and black leaves feel more protective than threatening, arching over your head to provide a canopy of privacy in the quiet, uninhabited space.
Usually the greenhouse is a bustle of student activity, with botany classes often perusing the aisles with their notebooks and art students lingering with their sketchbooks. But classes had long since ended, the busy chaos of academia ushered away by the sinking of the large Devildom moon, bringing with it night within night.
You need this. You need the silence, the privacy, the darkness. The House of Lamentation doesnât offer it. The Demon Lordâs castle is also not an option as you donât want to impose purely for the sake of self-isolation.
No, this is perfect. It is safe, safer than losing yourself in the real forests that press against the outskirts of the Devildom. It is a place for hiding, a place for becoming invisible. It is a place that makes you feel small, from the tightly clustered plants around you to the vast starry sky that slowly rotates high beyond the confines of the glass ceiling. You could almost pretend youâre a bug, an insect, or some other small life form whoâs only purpose is to exist in the here and now, moment to moment.Â
Maybe then you could find peace in your mind; maybe that voice of sickness and lies that whispered louder than any demon would fall silent.
Not all days were this bad. But the added stress, the fatigue.... you knew it was only a matter of time before you found yourself dangerously close to that pitch black rock bottom. You felt it encroaching, a shadow teasing the edges of your mind, and you knew... you knew you had to find somewhere to gather yourself, to work through it without interruption or curious eyes.
This helps. A place of quiet, of privacy, of nature, even if the nature isnât your own. In its own alien way, itâs perfect.
Perfect, but also lonely. You both love and hate it, glad to be unnoticed for once but vulnerable against the rare isolation. Rare, but not unfamiliar. You sit with it; let it soak into your bones. Like putting on old shoes that still fit, worn soles perfectly conformed to your feet, your mind eases into accepting that familiar ache, a feeling not often experienced anymore, but still deeply rooted in old memories and dreams. The old loneliness hollows you out, slows the blood rushing through your veins as your mind eventually quiets to a low hum of white noise. It brings its own twisted kind of peace; not the healthy kind that heals and rejuvenates, but the broken kind that separates you from yourself, an act of cutting rather than mending.
If you could turn to stone in this moment, you would.
But not even this will last forever, your quiet reverie interrupted by the sound of the door to the greenhouse opening and closing. The sound of the click and the creak of the hinge is startling against the endless quiet, and it makes you jolt. You fight the irrational urge to hide within the surrounding shrubbery, as if such an act would truly hide you at all, and instead curl in on yourself with arms and legs crossed on the stone bench where you sit.
Whoever it is, is as silent as a ghost; you hear no footsteps, nor sounds of breath. Whoever it is does not speak, so you know instantly it is not any of the brothers or even Diavolo. But you feel their presence, and you know they feel yours. There is an awareness in the air that wasnât present before, the atmosphere going from one of empty quiet, to buzzing consciousness.
A moment later, a familiar pair of polished black shoes come into your field of view, attached to a familiar set of legs that stand formally in a way that only a royal butler could accomplish.
You look up and your eyes meet Barbatos, who stares down at you with a calm, curious expression and a slight tilt of his head. Heâs still dressed in his RAD uniform, but his white gloves are removed, likely tucked into the interior chest pocket of his tailcoat.
âMC,â he says gently. âI did not expect you to be here. You do know that the RAD campus is closed, yes?â
âI know,â you reply.Â
Even so, you make no motion to move, your body still curled within itself protectively. It isnât so much to protect against him, but to hold onto that feeling of smallness that helps to separate you from the ache in your chest and the cacophony of your mind.Â
âWhy are you here?â you ask.
âSome of the flora require care after school hours, so I tend to them prior to locking up for the evening.â
âAh.â Your sour mood strips you of your warmth, your words fading away as you retreat back into yourself.
Barbatos stares at you for a moment longer, before gesturing to the bench. âMay I?â
You return his stare with your own before moving over just enough to make room for him. The bench is small, comfortable for one, a slight squeeze for two, but he sits nonetheless, seemingly unbothered. The proximity of him is a brand and a blessing, the heat of him surprisingly comforting while your heart thuds harder in your chest. Youâre rarely ever this close to him, any prior instances of physical contact occurring out of necessity rather than choice.
You both sit in silence for a long time. You arenât sure if he is expecting an explanation from you, but you couldnât give one even if you wanted to, the struggles within yourself too tangled to fully unravel, especially with how weathered you feel.
Finally, after a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence, the smooth richness of his voice breaking the quiet that sits like a bridge between you.
âI often find the Devildom flora more beautiful in the dark.â
It is an olive branch, and you take it, a small smile curling the corners of your lips.
âMe too,â you reply. âIt feels more natural this way. When the lights are on, it feels like weâre trying to force the plants and flowers to be something theyâre not.â
Barbatos stares at you for a long, quiet moment before returning his gaze ahead of him. âIndeed. Things are more beautiful when they are allowed to be themselves.â
A sentiment you share, and yet it isnât one you can extend to yourself, and it cuts you.
âI wish that were always true...â you mutter.
Itâs a thought whispered past private lips, and you regret them instantly when his keen, green eyes, nearly black in the darkness, flick back to you.
âWhy would it not be?â he asks.
You shift uncomfortably and swallow the lump that suddenly manifests where your voice is supposed to be.
âI donât know...â you finally mutter evasively.
You feel his eyes lingering on you, and it feels as if he can read the dark thoughts that live there, shadow where sunlight should be. But if he can read your mind, he doesnât say so, and he doesnât pry further.
Instead, Barbatos does something that you do not expect. His hand covers yours, untangling your fingers from your tightly clasped palms that sit in your lap. His touch is warm, warmer than you thought itâd be, and you canât help but wonder how different his body really is from yours when it feels so human.
You watch as Barbatos twines his fingers with yours, a simple but shockingly intimate action. Itâs surprisingly comforting, fulfilling a longing within you that you didnât even realize you carried so heavily until just now; an anchor of companionship, unwavering in its simplicity, gentle in its unassuming nature. Thereâs a lack of expectation in Barbatosâs touch, a quiet acceptance of the here and now, of the you of this moment, rather than the âyouâ that you always present to others, or the âyouâ that others expect of you.
It makes something within you surrender. It forces the dissociation from your mind, pulling you instantly back into reality, into your body. Barbatosâs tenderness, given freely without price, carves a space for itself within your chest, and it hurts, the sudden sharpness of vulnerability an open wound.  That vulnerability is unfamiliar, raw, terrifying. It calls forth your fears, makes the voices of wrongness sing louder than ever, listing all of the ways you are undeserving of this moment. And youâre angry, angry at their presence, and their ability to ruin even this for you, to taint something peaceful and beautiful with something so ugly.
The tears finally come, blurring your vision and spilling over silently onto your cheeks. More come immediately after, and you sniff, your nose starting to run as you wipe at your face. A handkerchief appears within your view, and you take it, your heart too shy and embarrassed to look at Barbatos properly or even offer him a mumbled thank you. But he shows no discomfort or disdain for your tears or lack of manners. Instead, he sits quietly with you, waiting patiently as he holds your hand securely within his own, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes on the soft skin between your thumb and index finger.
Quietly you cry, and quietly he waits. Each second longer that you cry is a confession of your imperfection, your brokenness, and each second longer that Barbatos stays by your side is an acceptance, a forgiveness. And so, without even speaking to one another, the very act of this shared moment provides a cleansing of your heart that youâd never felt before. Each drop of salty water is a purge, a release. Thereâs an amusing irony to it; an exorcism of sorts in a place where God isnât welcome, supported by a creature whoâs existence came from darkness.
The catharsis brings release, and the release brings fatigue. The rigidness of your spine gives way to something more pliable, and you lean your head against his shoulder as you continue to weep, albeit gentler now that the worst of it has passed. Barbatos lets you, his thumb barely missing a beat in its strokes against your hand. He makes no effort to increase his physical reassurance; no arm around your shoulder, no leaning of his head against the crown of yours. Youâre grateful for it, not quite ready to be touched so completely. Maybe soon... after all, the thought does entice you... but not yet. Not when your heart is still raw and tender.
No, this is perfect. Itâs just enough.
Finally, the floodwaters of your heart recede, and you wipe away the last traces of wetness from your cheeks with his silk handkerchief. Itâs damp with tears and snot now, and you know youâll have to wash it before returning it to him. You fiddle with it with your free hand, your thumb tracing along the cursive B that is sewn into its corner with dark thread, the color muted to black in the dark.
Your hands are still intertwined with each other, your head still resting against his shoulder, and youâre grateful for it as you find the courage to finally speak, your eyes still trained on that cursive B.
Your voice is quiet, hushed by hesitancy. âBarbatos...I have a question...â
âHm?â
âWhen I die, and my soul leaves my body.... does.... does that mean that the mental illness wonât be there anymore? Does that part get left behind?â
âAh,â Barbatos says softly, his voice rich with understanding. âI see.â
You sit up, although his hand still holds yours; after all, you havenât pulled away yet. But your eyes... your eyes are downcast, the shame of your breakdown too heavy regardless of Barbatosâs tenderness.
Now that youâve finally confessed your fear it becomes easier to speak, and the words come more freely. âIâm just... Iâm tired of being this way. Feeling this way, thinking this way. Itâs always there, like this big, lurking monster that I canât escape from. Except itâs a part of me. I donât know who I am without it. And Iâmââ tears choke your words, but you force yourself to continue even as your eyes once again brim and sting. âIâm just so afraid that itâll never go away. Even when I die, and my soul is separated from this broken fucking bodyââ
A long, slender finger covers your lips, halting your impending tirade of self-loathing. It forces you to finally look at him, and youâre surprised to see how deep the concern goes within his dark gaze.
âShh,â he says. âDonât say such things. It does the richness of all that you are a disservice.â
His words stun you into silence, and you stare at him wide-eyed. He holds your gaze for a moment longer before taking the handkerchief from your clenched fist. You start to protest, embarrassed at the state of it, but he ignores your concerns and uses a relatively clean spot to wipe away your new tears.
You fall silent as he cares for you, and in that silence, he begins to speak.
âYou humans so often like to label and categorize things, an attempt at making sense of the world around you when youâre forever doomed to know so little. Lines of comparison drawn on a beach, not realizing that in the end, itâs all made of sand.â
You frown. âI donât understand.â
âWhat youâre speaking of is a sickness of the mind, correct?â
âYes, thatâs one way to put it...â
Barbatos takes your palm in his hand and turns it face up. âIâve heard you humans often use the term âmind, body, and soulâ as if they are all separate. Back when I spent time in the human realm, humans treated the soul as synonymous with the heart and the mind as synonymous with the brain, both housed within the body.â With his finger, he draws one large circle, and within it, places two dots vertically spaced from each other.
You stare at your palm as you ponder his words. âYes,â you say, âthat idea still lingers... sort of...â
 You take his hand in yours, and draw your own circles â a small, a medium, and a large, all inset within each other like a target.
âI think... I see the soul and mind as synonymous of each other, in way, that they depend on each other. Or...â
 You hesitate, your fears surfacing again as you stare at Barbatosâs open palm.
 âI think...â you continue slowly, âI think Iâm afraid that theyâre the same thing. That the soul only exists because of the mind. If thatâs true, then if my mind is broken, then so is my soul, and Iâll be carrying that brokenness with me forever. Itâs like... trying to forge something using a metal riddled with impurities. The integrity will always be compromised, no matter how beautiful the shape in the end.â
Barbatosâs open hand closes around yours, cradling your fingertips that still rest against his skin. He turns your hand over palm up again.
âImagine thisâ â he draws a large circle â âis your body. And thisâ â he draws a smaller circle within it â âis your mind.â
You wait for the third circle, but it never comes. You frown.
âWhere is the soul?â
âEverywhere,â he says.
Your gaze lifts from your open hand to his eyes. He smiles back at you in quiet mirth, then drops his gaze back to your hand.  His fingers retrace over the larger circle heâd first drawn into your palm.
âYour soul,â he repeats, âis everywhere.â
Confusion once again surfaces in the contours of your face. Barbatos stares at you for a moment as he searches for the words in a way that you can understand. His eyes sink deep beneath the surface of you, and it makes you shift beneath his gaze. After a moment he blinks, his amusement returning.
âPerhaps it is my choice of words that is unclear,â he says. âAllow me to try again.âÂ
He pokes your forehead with his index finger. âYour mind is not the same as your soul the way you fear. It is simply consciousness, self-awareness provided you by your biology,â he explains.
âYou mean my brain.â
âYes.â
âSo my mind is just another part of my body.â
âPrecisely. Your body is merely the medium through which you experience this life, whether itâs through your senses, such as sight and touch, or through your consciousness.â
He returns to your hand, his fingers tracing the invisible large circle for a third time.
âYour soul, on the other hand, is a different thing entirely. It isnât something that can be contained to one organ within you. Not your heart, not your brain. Itâs deeper than that, richer,â he says quietly, as if sharing a secret.
His touch travels, his fingertips gliding feather-light across your palm, up your wrist, following the tendons and veins to your forearm where goosebumps begin to awaken across your sensitive skin.
âItâs energy. Itâs life,â he continues. âItâs eternal, and itâs woven into every fiber of your being, a golden thread holding you together like the universeâs most exquisite tapestry.â
Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers curve around your forearm until he holds it within his hand, his thumb rubbing gently against the soft skin where your veins rest beneath. His words enrapture you, his touch enthralls you. If there was ever a moment in your life you could stay trapped in forever, it would be this one.
But the moment is short-lived. Barbatosâs soothing touch halts mid-motion, his expression turning blank, as if he suddenly remembers himself and realizes the growing intimacy of the exchange. He withdraws his hand, and it leaves a cold emptiness where his warmth had been.
You ponder his words, but it only leads to more questions.
âMy soul is everywhere...â you mutter. âBut Barbatos... if itâs woven into my body, then how...?â
âHow does your soul pass on after you die?â
You nod.
Barbatos holds his chin in his fingers thoughtfully. âYou are thinking too literally. Perhaps it is my own failure to find the right words. Human speech doesnât offer enough nuance to fully describe something your kind still struggles to understand.â
He ponders a moment longer, his brow knit together in concentration. Finally his head lifts and his gaze meets yours. âAh. Perhaps we can describe it as such. Your body is made of matter, correct? And if you look deep enough, you know that all matter is made up of atoms. But not even atoms ever completely touch.â He takes your hand in one of his and holds it up, your palm facing him, as he brings his other hand within a hairâs breadth; close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him, but not actually touching. âThereâs a negative space, ever present yet so infinitesimal that youâd never know itâs there.â His hand finally touches yours, his fingers aligned with yours as he splays them out. âIt is this space that your soul exists, interwoven, encapsulating every atom of what you are.â
Youâre staring at your touching hands, wide-eyed now, as you take in what heâs told you. The scope of it feels nearly too vast to properly comprehend, despite how hard you try.
âItâs all very... complicated...â you mutter as you finally lower your hand back to your lap.
âHm, is it?â Barbatos replies with a curious tilt of his head. âHere then, another example, but simpler. If you were to lose a limb, would it damage your soul?â
âNo, of course not.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause theyâre separate.â
And finally, it clicks for you.Â
Barbatos smiles. âPrecisely. So, if a lost limb will not damage your soul, then why should a damaged mind?â
The weightlessness of relief begins to spread from the center of your chest, and you release a long, deep breath.
âI see,â you say. âSo when I die...â
âWhen you die, your soul continues on, transformed, as your body decays.â
The balloon of relief breaks and you do a doubletake. â...transformed?â
Barbatos nods. âYes, by your experiences and choices in this life.â
Once again that despair rears, the dark void opening beneath your feet as you cling to your dwindling hope. You once again wrap your arms around yourself protectively, as if you are the only one who can keep yourself from falling, despite the presence of the demon directly in front of you.
âBut... Barbatos,â you protest, âsometimes mental illnesses can cause people to make bad choices. Wrong choices. Hurtful choices. If those can impact the soul, then wouldnât that mean the soul does get damaged? Or tainted?â
Barbatos falls silent for a long moment, and you avoid looking into his eyes, your gaze downcast. His hand reaches out and covers your forearm reassuringly, but your arms remain crossed.
âAs a demon, I cannot attest to how just the Celestial Realmâs rules are. I, for one, find them to be rather suffocating and arbitrary, lacking in nuance. But even I would be shocked if such things werenât taken into consideration when it is time for a soul to be set upon the scales of judgment.â
Scales of judgment... the idea makes you nauseous.
Barbatosâs touch to your forearm is replaced by both of his hands on your arms just below the shoulders. You can tell from the way he moves that he is ducking his head lower in an attempt to catch your avoiding eyes, but you keep  yourself hidden lest your tears return.
âMC....â he says softly, âare you worried that you will be judged unfairly when your time comes?â
It takes a moment for you to find your voice, and when you do itâs thicker, heavy under the weight of emotions. âMaybe... or maybe Iâm worried Iâll be judged fairly.â
âIf you do not go to heaven when your time comes, then the Celestial Realm truly is run by fools.â
His words surprise you, and you finally catch his gaze, amusement beneath a raised, sarcastic brow. Your skin grows hot and you avert your eyes for a different reason, your shoulders lifting slightly in subtle retreat.
âWell,â you continue, âyou said yourself that the soul gets transformed during this life. Iâve made some not-so-great choices, so far. Iâve done things I regret; hurt people Iâve loved and even people I didnât. What if my soul is not as good as I hope?â
Barbatos gives a soft scoff of amusement, his brows pinching up in the center as he stares at you in wry amusement. âMy dear, the very idea that your soul is anything but good is quite literally an impossibility.â
Your tension loosens slightly. âHow do you know?â
The corner of one side of his mouth quirks up slightly. âWell, to start, I am a demon. And as one of the oldest demons, I have devoured countless souls across my lifetime. If anyone is to be an expert on the quality of a soul it would be me.â
Something about the way he talks so simply about his violence, combined with his intimate kindness, makes you feel lightheaded.
It takes an extra heartbeat for you to find enough air in your lungs to speak. âAnd, uh...what does a demon such as yourself consider high quality?â
Barbatos stares distantly, and for a moment he feels ancient. When he speaks, his voice seems almost otherworldly, holding a resonance to it that wasnât there before. âIt varies from demon to demon. Some enjoy the flavor of corruption upon a soul, some prefer the sweet, crisp freshness of innocence and purity... but all human souls possess something that ours lack, something that makes us crave. Weâre drawn to it, in the way your human realm plants are drawn to sunlight.â He pauses and shakes his head. âNo, perhaps that analogy is too mild. It is more how the Devildomâs Succubusâs Kiss lures its victims into its choking vines with the sweet promise of fruit.â
You swallow for a moment, your throat suddenly dry as you stare at your now empty palms where your longing for him sits abandoned.
âYou make it sound as if humans are the dangerous ones,â you chide.
A half-hearted attempt at a joke, but Barbatos chuckles nonetheless.
âYes; perhaps you are.â
You canât tell in this moment if heâs referring to âyouâ as in humanity, or âyouâ as in something far more personal. It only makes the curiosity sharper, honed on the whetstone of your pining.
âAnd my soul...â you continue, âwhat do you sense, Barbatos?â
Dread immediately follows your bold and vulnerable question, fearing what he must inevitably see in you. Is Barbatos the type to enjoy the flavor of corruption, to find value in broken things? Or is he more of a purist, always a keen eye for perfection? You fear you already know the answer as you take in his crisp RAD uniform, his perfectly smooth features. Your gaze falls downward, an attempt to hide what youâre sure he already knows.
One heartbeat, two. Then your chin is being tilted up by his thumb and forefinger until your eyes are forced to meet his. Thereâs a hint of luminescence in them, the green noticeable now where it wasnât before, pushing against the dark monotone of night that previously washed his irises in near-black. His eyes are searching, seeking, finding, and you can feel the magic, the power that unravels every defense, every barrier. Finally, his gaze settles, the green quiets to a deep, sleeping forest of pine in winter. Itâs peaceful; soothing.
If Barbatosâs earlier release of your arm was to provide distance from the growing intimacy between you, then the attempt was in vain. Because now the affection in his gaze is unmistakable, the deep shadowy green cradling you the way his fingers cradle your chin. It weakens you, makes you feel like putty in his touch.
âYou glow,â Barbatos whispers, âlike sunlight trapped in ripples. Itâs blinding, and yet so beautiful I find it impossible to look away. I can feel it in you, emanating like heat from a hearth, and it makes me long for a home Iâve never had.â
The hum of his voice makes you shiver, goosebumps forming across your skin. The adoration in his eyes falters briefly, the lingering green fading to black, giving way to a dark, ancient sorrow.
âI think,â he continues, âitâs a glimpse of what heaven must feel like. A small piece of divinity passed down to you from your ancestor.â
His fingers release your chin, but the vulnerability remains, if not slightly muted due to the distance imposed by the lack of physical contact.
âI am different from Lucifer and his brothers in that I was never an angel. I came into existence exactly as I am, and as such Iâve never known divinity. And yet... despite never knowing it, there is still a strange... hunger for it. It is a peculiar thing to miss something youâve never known.â
âYou... long for Heaven?â you ask him.
Barbatos tilts his head thoughtfully, his gaze absent somewhere past your shoulder. âNot so much Heaven the place. Itâs more so the purity, the grace, to feel that sense of wholeness that the divine offers. Itâs why we are drawn to human souls. Angels, you see, are far too potent. Too much divinity hurts a demon; it can even kill them. But you... you humans have just enough of both worlds within you to allow us a taste. It can be rather addictive, especially for younger demons who have not yet had enough millennia to control their hunger.â
His pupils dilate in the dark as he refocuses his gaze. His eyes meet yours and linger for a moment before slowly drawing down to your parted lips. âYou are a rare case indeed. More potent in your divinity than the average human, but not enough to hurt.â
You quirk a smile at him. âBarbatos, are you saying Iâm irresistible?â
It is a joke, one you feel comfortable making because of its ridiculousness. But then he gives you a smile youâve never seen before that makes your stomach drop and your body awash with heat. Thereâs a directness in it, a challenge presented in a wry upward turn of the lips and the glint of teeth in the faint starlight.
âPerhaps,â he says.
You try to brush him off with a scoff and break eye contact, feigning interest in the shape of the black leaves that arch over the both of you in the darkness.
âNow youâre just teasing me,â you mutter.
âOh? You donât believe me,â he comments. âPerhaps there is more I can do to convince you then.â
Your heartbeat falters, tripped by hope, and you keep your eyes above and around lest you combust right in front of him.Â
âConvince me?â you question.
Youâre attempting to feign indifference, to protect yourself from the inevitable rejection you know is coming, because surely heâs not... he doesnât mean.... he wouldnât... that look in his eyes earlier... affection yes, but that can mean anything...
Barbatos takes your chin in his fingers and pulls gently until you have nowhere else to look but directly at him. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, into him. Thereâs a flicker there, a glow of swirling green, like nebulae trapped within his vastness.
âIndeed,â he whispers, the warmth of his breath upon your parted lips. Â You realize heâs closer than you anticipated, closer than ever before.
 Your lightheadedness is returning, and your genuinely afraid youâll faint, so you force yourself to keep speaking.
âWhat kind of convincing?â you ask.
He smiles that smile again, the one that turns your insides molten. âThe kind that doesnât require words, since you seem to doubt them so fervently.âÂ
His thumb draws gently across your lower lip, his half-lidded gaze transfixed. âWould you like to be convinced?â he mutters.
You swallow and answer honestly.Â
âYes.â
Barbatosâs eyes return to yours and his lips curl into a soft, genuine smile. He closes whatâs left of the distance, his warm lips capturing yours as his fingers release your chin in favor of gently cupping your jawline.
You close your eyes and reciprocate, your hand resting against his chest.
Itâs gentle, soft, and for all of his heavy flirting just a moment ago, it is as unassuming as when heâd first held your hand. It washes away the last dredges of worry, calms the ever-present unease that always lingers. The clouds of your mind finally part, even if just for this moment, and for the first time in a long while, you feel feather-light as a peaceful warmth spreads from head to toe to the tips of your fingers.
When your lips part, Barbatos keeps his hand on your cheek and plants a gentle peck to your forehead.
âNow, believe me when I say you are beautiful. Believe me when I say that you are good. And most importantly, believe me when I say that I am always here for you.â
Your choked by emotion, your eyes once again burning, but this time for a different reason entirely.
âEven when Iâm being sad and pathetic?â you ask, your voice cracking slightly.
Barbatos  puts his forehead against yours as his lips curve into a tender smile.
âEspecially then.â
#om barbatos#obey me barbatos#obey me#obey me fanfiction#barbatos fanfiction#barbatos x mc#barbatos x reader#tw: mental health
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Not Quite Soulmates
AzrielxReader
Summary: Azriel introduces you to his family when your mating bond snaps... Just not with him
Warnings: light angst?
Word Count: 1.1k
You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to decide if you liked this dress better than the last one. You had been seeing Azriel for the better part of six months, and tonight you were going to meet his family for the first time. You smile, thinking back to when you had first met the Shadowsinger.Â
You had been at work, shelving books on the top shelf, when suddenly the ladder you were standing on broke and you fell. You had expected to hit the ground, only to be caught by Azriels strong arms instead. Despite that being like something out of a romance book, it had taken Azriel some time to get you to go on a date with him. It wasn't that you hadn't been attracted to him, you absolutely were. But you had been unlucky in love, and convinced yourself you were destined to be alone.Â
He would come into the store and ask for recommendations and then come back to talk about the book with you before asking for another recommendation. This went on for months before eventually you had asked him out when one of your coworkers had said she would if you didn't.Â
And now, six months later, you were so glad that you had. You couldn't imagine your life without him in it.Â
You're drawn out of your thoughts by arms wrapping around your waist and a kiss pressed to your shoulder.Â
"You look beautiful."Â
"Yeah? I wasn't sure if I should wear this dress or the purple one." He presses more kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. You smile, tilting your head to the side as he does.Â
"Definitely this one. I have a... Very fond memory of this dress." You laugh, knowing exactly what very fond memory he was thinking of. You had worn this dress to dinner before taking him to your bed for the first time.Â
"Keep it in your pants Azzie. We'll have plenty of time for that later tonight, after dinner."Â
He takes a step back, sighing, holding his hand out for you. You take it with a smile, and he leads you out the door.
It's a nice late summer evening, so the two of you walk to the River House. He stops you just outside the door, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's not too late to back out, we can always head back home and I can come up with an excuse."Â
You shake your head, laughing. "You have been putting this off for far too long already. Either you're nervous, or you're trying to get me naked."Â
"A bit of both." He admits.Â
"Well too bad, because we're going in. And you're going to have to deal with all of your favorite people ganging up to tease you." He laughs, shaking his head and leads you inside. The two of you head for the sitting room where everyone is mingling before dinner.Â
Azriel leads you around the room, introducing you to everyone as he does. You make eye contact with the long haired Illyrian you assume is Cassian, the brother Azriel has told you so much about. Azriel starts to lead you over to him and you freeze, eyes widening. A mating bond has snapped into place, but not with your boyfriend. No, it snapped into place with his brother. And going off the look on his face, it snapped for him too. You both curse at the same time, drawing attention from the rest of the room. Azriel looks at you, his expression asking what's wrong. You have two options. You can tell them what just happened, or you can run. You choose the latter, running out of the sitting room and down the hall, out the front door. You follow the Sidra, paying no attention to where youâre going.Â
You run until you trip over a rock, tumbling to the soggy ground next to the river. You lay there, looking at the stars, slowly starting to dance across the sky. Perhaps you could move courts, because you certainly couldn't continue to date Azriel. Not without rejecting the mating bond. And you can't stand the idea of living so close to your mate and not being with him. Yes. You'll move courts. As you lay on the river bank, imagining which court you'll move to and your new life there, Azriel lands nearby, calling out your name. You sit up and look at him, biting your lip. âAzzie⌠IâŚâ
âI know. Cassian told us everything.â He sits next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and you lean against him.Â
âI guess this means we have to break upâŚâÂ
âBecause you want to be with him?âÂ
âBecause I would have to reject the bond to be with you. And you could never look at me the same way again knowing I'm the reason he's in so much pain.âÂ
âAnd you want to be with him.âÂ
âWhy do you keep saying that?âÂ
âEvery single romance book you recommend was about mates. Even the ones that weren't romances, if they happened to have a relationship, they were mates. You want a mating bond.âÂ
âI don't want to hurt you.â
âIt will take some time, but I'll be okay.â
You lean away so you can look up at him, but his face is blank, unreadable. You frown, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. You hate when he does this, shoves all signs of emotion away, leaving you unable to tell what he's feeling.Â
âI don't want to lose you.â
âI don't want to lose you either. I'd rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all. Take some time to wrap your head around it if you need to, but you should get to know him before you make a decision.âÂ
You nod. âI suppose I won't run away to the Summer Court then.â
âWhat?âÂ
âBefore you got here I was debating leaving for another court. I was thinking about the Summer Court.âÂ
Azriel shakes his head. âRhys and I had to talk Cass out of running away to Windhaven. The two of you are ridiculous.âÂ
You stick your tongue out at him. âI think it's a perfectly reasonable reaction to the situation.â
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, standing and helping you up. âI'm taking you back before you can convince yourself running away is the best option again.â He picks you up, holding you in tight as he takes off, flying back to the River House, back to your mate, breaking his own heart.
A/N: I have plans for what's essentially a happier part 2 with Cassian and also I'm sorry I love Azriel and I want him to be happy but I haven't written anything happy for him yet oops. Feel free to send in requests! I won't be posting this week, but I will still be writing!
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar x you#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine
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Hi! I hope you are doing well! I was wondering if would do a short part 2 of Promises made, promises kept where Steve does in fact come back to be with Reader again, realizing his mistake, but finds out that Reader moved on from him and is completely heart broken.đđ
Warnings- Fluff, angst. 2.2k words.
Disclaimer- Here's part 2 of Promises broken, Promises kept. Hope you like it.
Four years.
That's how long it had been since Steve Rogers decided to go back in time to live his life with Peggy Carter.
In those years, you had found a new normal with Bucky Barnes, a man who had stepped in and provided the stability you and your daughter needed. Your daughter adored Bucky and called him âPaâ without hesitation.
Bucky had been there from the beginning, supporting you through the pain of Steve's departure.
Slowly, an unexpected connection had grown between you and Bucky, a bond forged through shared experiences and a common goal of raising your daughter.
Bucky had become a fixture in your lives, fulfilling each promise he made.
He was there for every milestone, from your daughter's first steps to her first day of school. He comforted her when she was scared, dried her tears when she skinned her knee, and celebrated her triumphs with boundless pride.
On a chilly winter night, a faint cry pierced the silence. In an instant, Bucky was out of bed, his instincts on high alert. He rushed to your his daughter's room, where he found her tossing and turning, caught in the throes of a nightmare.
âPa!â she cried out, reaching for Bucky with trembling fingers. He was there in an instant, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. âShh, it's okay,â he murmured, his voice gentle yet filled with unwavering strength. âI'm here.â
Bucky scooped her up into his arms, rocking her softly as he settled into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He cradled her close, murmuring hushed reassurances and stroking her hair until her sobs subsided.
As Bucky comforted her, your daughter's words came out between hiccups and sobs. âI had a dream... daddy came to take me away.â Confusion mixed with fear as her little voice quivered.
Bucky's heart clenched at her words. He tightened his hold on her as he tried to steady his voice, masking the whirlwind of emotions within him. âDon't worry, sweetheart. That was just a bad dream. You're safe here, with me.â he assured her, his voice soft yet firm.
Natalia's grip on Bucky tightened as she pleaded her fears, her tiny fingers clinging to his shirt. âPromise me you won't go,â she implored, her voice trembling with vulnerability. âPromise me you'll always be my Pa!â
Bucky's heart ached at her words, his resolve deepening. He gently took her little hands in his, holding them firmly against his chest. âI promise you, sweetheart,â he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering determination. âI will always be your father, no matter what.â
As your daughter's breathing steadied into a peaceful slumber, Bucky continued to hold her close, his gaze softening. In the quiet of the room, a silent promise echoed in his heart. He vowed to protect her with all his strength, to be the rock she could always rely on.
Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. Your connection with Bucky deepened, a bond forged through shared experiences and mutual trust.
Your daughter blossomed under his love and guidance, and you found solace in his unwavering support. Laughter echoed through the house, and joy filled the air as you built cherished memories together.
But one stormy evening, the knock on your door came unexpected, the sound cutting through the peaceful evening.
As you opened it, your heart skipped a beat. Steve Rogers stood there, a man you hadn't seen in years. The years had marked him, casting shadows on his rugged features. He looked older, more worn, yet unmistakably him.
âSteve...â you said, barely able to hide your surprise.
âI came back.â Steve announced, his voice cold and detached, a stark contrast to the warmth you once knew. It was as if time had frozen him mid-way between the person he was and who he had become.Â
âThought I'd check on what I left behind...â he continued, the words hanging in the air like a silent accusation.
Your daughter, who had been clinging to your leg, peered around your legs, her eyes wide with curiosity at the familiarly unfamiliar figure. âMommy, who's that?â she asked innocently.Â
Before you could respond, Bucky stood next to you, his protective instincts immediately on high alert. âSteve,â he said, a mix of surprise and tension in his voice, âwhat are you doing here?â
Steve's gaze hardened as he glared at Bucky, frustration and jealousy evident in his eyes. âI see you didn't waste any time moving on!â he accused, his voice laced with bitterness.Â
You stepped forward, placing yourself between them, your heart beating wildly. âSteve, you made your choice...â you said firmly, your voice unwavering. â You chose your life. We had no choice but to find our own path.â
Bucky's fists clenched at his sides, his gaze unwavering as he regarded Steve with a mix of caution and protectiveness. He wouldn't let the man who had hurt you and left you when you were pregnant, intrude on your newfound happiness without a fight.
Steve's gaze shifted to your daughter, a flicker of something indistinguishable crossing his face. âDoes she even know who I am?â he asked, a cruel undertone lurking in his voice.Â
Bucky, ever the rock in your tumultuous life, responded firmly, his voice unwavering. âShe knows her family!â he retorted. âAnd that's all that matters.â His words echoed with years of selfless love and devotion.
Steve's eyes darkened at Bucky's response, his jaw tightening in frustration. The reality of his absence and the changes that had taken place in your lives seemed to dawn on him with a bitter clarity.
Steve's laugh was devoid of any warmth or mirth, a cold, bitter sound that sent a chill down your spine. âSo, you think you can replace me, Barnes?â he taunted, his tone laced with scorn. âYou think you can just waltz in and claim what's mine?â
Steve's jealousy and possessiveness were palpable, his gaze fixated on Bucky. It was as if he saw your family as property that he had discarded and now sought to reclaim.
Bucky's fists clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowing at Steve's words. He didn't back down, standing firm in his role as your protector and father figure to your daughter. âThis isn't about replacing you!â he countered, his voice steady. âIt's about being here for them when you weren't.â
Steve's face darkened at Bucky's candid response, his resentment growing. The reality of his absence and the pain it had caused seemed to hit him all at once, yet his stubborn pride prevented him from fully acknowledging his own shortcomings.
Steve, in a desperate attempt to connect with his estranged daughter, approached her with a forced air of familiarity. âHey princess...â he started, the pet name sounding hollow in his mouth, âI'm your father, your real father.â
The words hung in the air, heavy with implications and laced with a mix of guilt and longing. Your daughter, innocent and oblivious to the complex emotions at play, looked up at Steve with wide, unsuspecting eyes.
Relief washed over you as you recalled the conversation you had with your daughter not too long ago. Back then, knowing that Steve's return was a possibility, you had decided to tell her the truth about her father.
However, your daughter had taken that information and formed her own steadfast conviction: Bucky was her father.
Natalia, her small frame trembling slightly, clung to Bucky, her tiny hands holding onto him with unwavering determination. She peered out from behind him, her eyes locking onto Steve. âNo!â she proclaimed with a defiant pout. âThis is my Pa.â
Bucky's heart swelled with gratitude and pride as he felt Natalia cling to him, her tiny hands holding onto him with childlike determination. He gently placed his own hand over hers, a silent promise to shield her from any harm, whether it came from Steve or anyone else.
Steve, his ego bruised and his emotions in turmoil, couldn't hide the anger that surged through him. His face twisted with frustration, and his voice laced with a mix of bitterness and entitlement, he snapped, âShe's my daughter! I have a right to see her.â
Before you or Bucky could respond, Steve's attention turned to your daughter again. His voice was laced with a possessiveness that sent a chill down your spine. âI'm your father!â he yelled, his tone filled with a mix of desperation and frustration. âNot him!â
Natalia, young and innocent, jumped in fright at his raised voice, her small frame trembling with fear.
Bucky, his protective instincts on high alert, wouldn't stand for anyone, not even Steve, scaring his daughter. Seeing Natalia tremble with fear, he instinctively stepped forward, shielding her from Steve's tumultuous presence.
Bucky's stance was unwavering, his body tensed and ready to protect Natalia at all costs. His loyalty to her and her well-being outshone any lingering attachment he might have had to Steve. In that moment, it was clear that nothing was more important to him than keeping her safe and shielded from harm.
Your voice, filled with unwavering conviction, cut through the tension. âSteve,â you said, your tone firm yet laced with a mix of hurt and anger, âenough. You left. You chose differently. You don't get to barge back into our lives and question the choices we had to make to move forward. Bucky has been here, through thick and thin, supporting us, loving us. You gave up that right when you walked away.â
Steve's face visibly tensed, his features contorting with a cocktail of regret and simmering resentment. The weight of his own choices seemed to settle heavily upon him, as your words hit their mark. After a palpable pause, he muttered, âMaybe I made a mistake coming here.â
The silence that stretched between you all was filled with a myriad of emotions - regret, longing, anger, and frustration. Bucky, standing steadfastly by your side, was a silent pillar of strength, his presence a testament to the bond you had forged in the wake of Steve's absence.
Bucky, his voice steady and resolute, âThis isn't about making things right or reclaiming what's yours, Steve,â he said, his tone unwavering. âIt's about what's best for them.â His eyes glinted with a mix of protectiveness and affection as he glanced at you and Natalia, his unspoken promise to always protect them evident in his demeanor.
Bucky's words carried weight, each syllable imbued with the depth of his commitment. âYou had your chance,â he continued, his voice unwavering. âYou made your choice, and we made ours. Now it's time for you to decide what's important to you - your past mistakes or their happiness.â
The room seemed to still, the intensity of Bucky's words hanging in the air. You could see the impact they had on Steve, his face etched with a mix of guilt and defiance, as if struggling to reconcile the reality of his actions with the life you and Natalia had built without him.
âYou broke your promises, Steve,â you said, your voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and heartache. âYou said you'd always be there, that you'd come back. But you didn't.â A pause hung in the air, the weight of your words palpable.
âBucky,â you continued, your voice softening with gratitude, âhe kept all of his promises. He was there for us, every step of the way.â
The weight of your words settled heavily in the room, emphasizing the contrast between Steve's broken vows and Bucky's unwavering loyalty.
Steve's gaze darted between you and Bucky, the weight of his actions sinking in. His voice lowered slightly, laced with a mix of frustration and resignation. âFine,â he acquiesced, his tone softer yet tinged with bitterness. âBut don't expect me to just disappear.â His words hung in the air, a mix of defiance and regret, hinting at his unwillingness to be completely shut out of the lives he had walked away from.
As Steve turned to leave, a flicker of realization crossed his face, a glimpse at the magnitude of what he had lost. The sound of the door closing behind him marked the finality of his departure, an indictment of his own choices. In the silence that followed, the weight of his loss and the solitude that was now his own doing became painfully apparent.
You found solace in Bucky's embrace, his warmth a balm to the chill left by Steve's presence. His arms encircled you, offering solace and security in the aftermath of the tumultuous encounter.
âWe've got each other,â Bucky whispered, his voice a warm whisper against your skin, as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The tumultuous storm outside mirrored the chaos of emotions stirred by Steve's visit, but in that moment, wrapped in Bucky's embrace, you found peace and certainty.
âThat's all we need.â he murmured, emphasizing the bond that had grown between you. And amid the echoes of your past, your heart and future now stood firm in the present, fortified by your love for Bucky.
Natalia, her little hands tugging at Bucky's pant leg, looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. âUp, up!â she giggled, her voice sweet and eager. Bucky's face lit up with an affectionate smile as he scooped her up into his arms, lifting her up high with a hearty laugh.
Without hesitation, you stepped into the embrace, snaking your arms around both Natalia and Bucky, completing the circle of love. In that moment, as you clung to one another, you felt a profound sense of unity, a sense of being a family beyond blood or circumstance.
Meanwhile as Steve walked away from your doorstep, a heaviness settled upon him. The weight of his choices and the broken promises echoed loudly in the emptiness of his solitude. Although he couldn't change the past, he held onto a glimmer of hope that someday, he might find a place in his daughter's life.
However, for now, he was left to navigate the consequences of his actions, the storm of his loneliness mirroring the storm that had passed through your home.
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#sebastian stan#chris evans#sebastian stan characters#chris evans characters#bucky barnes#steve rogers#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader fluff#steve rogers angst#steve rogers x reader angst#bucky barnes x you#steve rogers x you#bucky barnes one shot#steve rogers one shot
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The Memory Keeper
Chapter 3: Frame
Pairing : Noa x human reader
Warning : grieving, otherwise, none!
Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.
Words : 3k+
A/N : Well, well, well, chapter 3 is out! Enjoy your reading đ
The Memory Keeper masterlist.
You watched as the flame devoured the kindling and gnawed at the petals you'd carefully placed in their usual circle. It progressed slowly, longing to consume every piece of wood and petal it found in its path. Knees braced against your chest, one arm wrapped around your legs in a vain attempt to maintain the cracks you felt growing deep inside your ribcage.
Why was it getting so complicated?
A tear fell onto the frame you held, fingers shaking, above your knees. You quickly wiped it away, not wanting the moisture to stain the glass that protected the picture from the long years gone by.
Why was it so complicated? You repeated to yourself once more, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your top. You noted that you still hadn't changed for the night. You had to take a deep breath, it always helped⌠supposedly, it always helped, but the shaky breathing that was supposed to be helpful only allowed more tears to fall down your cheeks.
But why? Why couldn't you calm down? Why did your eyes seem to drown despite your best efforts? Why, over the past three days, had it become so difficult to even breathe normally? Why was it so difficult to keep your heart beating regularly, so regularly that you sometimes forgot you even had one?
Usually, it was easy. One or two slow, deep breaths. Your hand removing the tear drop from your skin, preventing others from joining it. Sometimes you'd close your eyes to focus on this task, and when you'd open them again, indifference would quietly resonate deep inside you.
So why tonight, for the third time, did you feel this organ so vital to your body crumbling, shattering, giving up on you a little more with each beat? Your eyes blurred, making it difficult to see the photo in the frame. No matter how much you blinked to clear your vision, it remained stubbornly blurred. But you wanted to see it⌠no, you had to see it, but the more you forced yourself to wipe away those tears, the more they rushed in to tangle and alter your vision. You clenched your fist around the frame as the other desperately tried to restore your sight. You had to look at him. Every night, you had to remember. You had to remember him, the features of his face, the color of his fur, the way he carried himself. You couldn't not look at him.
Unwittingly, your knuckles turned white and the pressure on the already worn wood increased. If you didn't look at him, you'd forget. You'd forget, just as you'd forgotten the words to that song you'd hummed every night as the petals turned to ash. You would forget, just as you had forgotten the faces of your parents, and of those whose existence you could only remember by their first names. You weren't allowed to forget, just as you weren't allowed to forget how to speak. So you had to look at him, you had no right to forget him.
Maybe if they had never come to your clearing, maybe you wouldn't be in this state, only three days after their arrival, three days since you seemed to be having great difficulty keeping a steady gaze. How stupid to bring them fish for three days so they could eat, so they could feel welcomed as you would have welcomed two friends back in a very distant past. How stupid of you to remember that a human, to remain human, had to give a proper welcome to his guests, whether they showed up unexpectedly or not. How stupid not to be able to keep things in perspective. How stupid. And you rubbed your eyes again and again until you felt like ripping the skin off your face, when suddenlyâŚ
A crack.
Your breathing stopped in a flash. All your muscles froze. You were no longer shaking, your heartbeat had almost stopped its frantic race and your eyes were now wide open, your tears frozen in the fear of having to look down.
The broken pieces of wood threatened to fall to the floor, and the only thing holding them together was your hand crushing the frame against your skin. The bark of the crumbling wood stuck to your hand like hundreds of grains of sand, and it was only as you loosened your fingers around the frame that your hand began to shiver again.
No.
No no no. This couldn't be happening.
The tears had become dry, allowing you to see the foolishness you'd just done. The wood of the frame had broken under the pressure, no longer able to hold the protective glass in place. The picture would end up in the open air, exposed to external aggression, exposed to moisture, exposed to time that just kept flying by without waiting for you to be ready to watch it roll by.
The picture would be damaged, the colors would fade, the events it had frozen in time would disappear along with the last image of the ape you called, with a sinking heart, your friend. And for as long as you could, you would cling to a mental image of him that would inevitably end in oblivion. You were going to forget. Of course you were going to forget. Maybe not in 1 year, 5 years or even 10. It might take you a lifetime as an uninfected human to forget, but it was going to happen. It was the only fatality of your condition, your body didn't age, but on the other hand you couldn't keep your memory intact, you had to give up part of your memories in exchange for a long life. One that was too long.
For the first time, as you firmly held the broken pieces of wood in the vain hope they would glue back together, you realized how tired you were.
In your turmoil, you'd shifted to a more cross-legged position, with the shaky frame gently placed in front of you. You had taken care to arrange the pieces of shattered wood so that they formed the frame around the glass, now detached from the frame.
With your gaze locked on Caesar, your quivering fingers rested on the glass in a gentle stroke.
âP... please forgive me, Caesar,â you whispered, your voice hoarse, almost desperate for forgiveness that would never be able to come.
You breathed in as best you could when all of a sudden, the cool wind touched your skin. The wood of the old floor creaked and you abruptly wiped away the last of the tears that had found their ways onto your cheeks.
Clearing your throat.
Rubbing your eyes. Your cheeks. Your whole face.
Brand-new you.
You looked back to where the sound had come from and your stony eyes fell on the two apes. You remembered very well having told them that it was going to rain during the night and that if, only if, they had no other choice, you would allow them, to a certain extent and with a few precautions, to enter.
How silly.
The apes weren't usually the type to fear the rain, but when you offered, almost against your will, to spend the night in your home until the rain stopped, they seized the opportunity to talk to you. To talk to you and convince you to let them keep your horse.
You could see them walking cautiously inside your house. Their eyes were everywhere, curious and careful, as if they didn't want to glance at an object, a piece of furniture, a corner of the large room that would be off-limits to them.
Noa immediately noticed your nest, which was a bit unusual; he couldn't quite work out what it was made of, certainly not branches or down, and the blanket covering it wasn't the fur of any animal you'd caught either. But he knew from the intensity of your scent on the fabric that this was where you slept. He looked away quickly. This was your nest, and if you had allowed them in, checking out your nest and judging it would be seen as disrespectful by his people. He at least wish it was comfortable for you.
It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You were sitting cross-legged, and it was hard to know whether you'd changed your mind about allowing them into your home. With your blank stare, you showed them nothing, happy? Surprised? Angry? Annoyed? None of these things were apparent, and it was beginning to drive him mad. He wanted to shake you, to bare his fangs and at least provoke a reaction, even one of fear, which he would accept, because this impassive face was making him ask questions he wished he'd never had to ask.
Emotions and facial expressions were the key to communication for apes. So how could echoes communicate if they all had the same blank face? How could they respond appropriately to each other's words and behavior? How do you build trust? Bonding? Did all the echoes really have that lifeless face? How could he know that his behavior wasn't offensive to you? How could he know that he was doing the right thing for you to simply agree to communicate with him?
And it had only taken him three days to get used to this inexpressive face. He was so used to getting no emotional response from you that he didn't immediately notice that behind the cloudy veil of your eyes, something had changed.
Noa had to look twice, and even then, he still wasn't quite sure what he'd just seen appear in a corner, somewhere well hidden, deep in your eyes. Noa had always been good at reading other apes' thoughts and feelings. You'd given him a hard time not showing anything, but he finally saw it. A little sparkle, as delicate and transparent as it was, as shy and barely recognizable, he had finally found what could look like sadn⌠And you lowered your eyes, ending this exchange in which he'd never thought he could lose himself in such an involved way. Had you figured out that he'd seen it?
Had he noticed? A pang of anxiety deepened in your stomach. You couldn't stand his stare any longer. Nor were you in any shape to have your soul probed by a chimpanzee you'd met three days ago and didn't even know the name of. Yet you knew it was important to them. Caesar had taught you well, explained it well: apes are observant, they communicate mainly through their eyes, and not allowing them to look at you could mean that you didn't trust them, or rather, that you didn't want to trust them. And not wanting to trust an ape could just as easily mean that they couldn't trust you either.
Was it why you'd allowed him to dip his green eyes into yours? To tell him silently that he could trust you? Or rather⌠that you trusted him?
After what seemed like an eternity, you finally stood up, heading for your chest. If they were staying the night, you could at least lend them a blanket. You rummaged in your chest, and under the 3-4 items of clothing, you grabbed two old blankets that you used in turn with the one on your armchair to sleep on.
You approached them silently before handing them the blankets.
âFor⌠the night.â
You felt compelled to clarify what you meant in front of their inquiring eyes, and just as you were about to return to where they'd found you on arrival, Raka's husky voice caught your attention.
âDo you have a name?â
It was true that after three days, you hadn't taken the time to make any introductions. It wasn't very humanly polite, you thought to yourself, nonetheless pondering on answering him. Of course you had a name, but it had been so long since you'd been asked that it took you a split second to remember it⌠(Name). But was it really necessary to give it to them? As you were slow to answer, the orangutan went on:
âIf you don't have one, we could call you⌠Nova?â
Nova. You knew that name. Somewhere deep in your memory, you could recall a girl. A little girl whose name was Nova. But that couldnât be, it was way too long ago. Therefore you chose not to dwell on it. The chimp beside Raka gave him a quizzical stare as well and you managed to decipher the sign language Raka was giving him as a respond, being "will explain further later".
"Iâm (Name)." Was all you could say.
Though your eyes lingered on the chimp and Noa swears he saw you sign a "you?" but it could only be his mind playing tricks on him.
To tell the truth, he hadn't been imagining it. You couldn't consciously bring yourself to ask his name, so your subconscious did it for you. After a few seconds of silence, you thought maybe he hadn't noticed your request or maybe he didn't want to answer this silent question, which, on reflection, wasn't such a bad thing: it was easier to forget without knowing names.
But he had finally decided otherwise.
âNoa.â
You nodded silently. Noa and Raka. Two names you'd surely remember for a long time.
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You'd taken your seat in front of the fireplace again, the only difference being that you'd taken the blanket that had been lying on your armchair with you. You had wrapped yourself up inside it to protect yourself from the fresh air of the night, and your fingers had mindlessly begun to skim the outline of the frame that was still on the floor. You were almost desperate. No matter how hard you thought about the best way to repair the frame and protect the precious treasure inside, your brain couldn't come up with a solution.
As focused as you were, you didn't even notice when Noa pointed to the wall above your head where your lists were lined up and arranged in columns.
âDo you know what these are?â Noa signed to Raka, who answered with a ânoâ nod. âMaybe⌠ask her?â Raka signed back.
But would you answer him? Until now, you'd never really exchanged more than two words apart from the first day when you'd caught them wanting to take your horse. Maybe you wouldn't accept his question, and maybe you might even take it the wrong way if he ventured to ask you a question that⌠concerned you too much? He'd kept in the back of his mind your reaction when Raka had wanted to help you pick up the rose petals.
âNot a good idea.â Noa signed again. âShe gave fish, and the blankets.â
Raka shrugged as if that were enough to justify the fact Noa could ask you a question without batting an eyelid and you were kind enough, in spite of everything, to answer him.
âIf you want her horse, you have to speak.â Raka prompted.
Noa huffed quietly, resigned. He had to talk to you.
You jumped when the wooden floor creaked beside you. Your eyes immediately went to Noa, who was taking a closer look at the lists on your wall. His voice buzzed in his ribcage and your gaze followed the movement of his hand, pressing down on one of your lists.
âWhat⌠is this?â
Silence.
Noa lowered his eyes to yours, feeling the need to perceive an answer from you, even though he already suspected he'd find nothing in your veiled gaze.
Perhaps if he looked harder, he'd be able to see again that melancholy glint he'd seen earlier, but you'd obviously managed to hide it even deeper. He wasn't going to get you twice in a row.
Unable to find what he was looking for, and frustrated by your silence, he was drawn to what your fingers were fiddling with on the floor.
Noa didn't understand the object at your feet. He had no idea what it was and out of curiosity, he crouched down, trying to get a little closer to the shape to understand its use. He could feel your puzzled gaze, almost on alert for the next move he might take, but he decided that as long as you didn't push him away, then he was allowed to continue his inspection. You had most certainly hovered your hand over the transparent plate on purpose to prevent him from seeing more precisely what it was, but whatever it might be, there was only one possible conclusion.
âBroken?â he asked.
Noa sought your gaze again, and the answer he found completely baffled him. He hadn't said much. One word. Just one word. And yet, the glimmer he had glimpsed with difficulty when he first entered your hut had just leapt into his face like the solution to a question that had been left unanswered for too long.
Sadness.
He could see it clearly, clearer than the water in the river. Echo's eyes were sad. This sudden emotion you were offering him as if on a platter of berries, this emotion he'd been searching for in you for three days, wondering if you were really capable of such a natural thing, this emotion, he suddenly didn't know what to do with it.
If the rose petals you'd picked up were important, this, this object you were shielding from his eyes with your hands, was certainly far more important. So important that it triggered an emotion in you capable of being expressed and given as a gift.
You closed your eyes. Maybe you'd given him too much. You closed your eyes and Noa noticed the long sigh that made your chest expand and contract.
And then, nothing.
Like the sun reaching the last horizon before fading behind it, there was nothing left in your eyes.
He watched you lay the blanket on the broken wood before getting up and leaving your house. Noa abruptly sought comfort from Raka, who gave him only one sentence in return.
âWhat have you done this time?â
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#planet of the apes#kingdom of the planet of the apes#noa x human reader#pota noa#noa x reader#kotpota#pota
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