#Well your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer or the second. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoonieper · 5 months ago

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For the Birds— Part 2 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers~

♡ Rated: L for Loathe

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: Y/n and Jk tension, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), mentions of Jungkook getting reealllyyyy drunk, <— throws up 😬, Jimin is best boy and the bestest friend but my man is ready to throw hands…

♡ Word Count: 11.6k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Honsool by Agust D— see masterlist for full playlist!

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have!

♡ Author’s Note: This chapter is the calm before the storm, but we ain’t slowing down at all for part 3 >:) ~ Y’all can thank Smoke Sprite for this hehehe (it just came out when I wrote this)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Seven months later…

Knowing what you know now, you felt bad that there was ever a phase in your life when you hated Jeon Jungkook. Hate was a strong word, you know that now, and you knew it back then too; but it was always the first word that would pop into your head whenever you’d think about the man.

Ever since your first day at Golden Tech, he made your life working at the company an actual living hell. You loved your job, and you were dedicated to it a hundred percent. You had worked way too hard to get where you were to slack around. You were living your dream— you were still young, working a stable, well-paying job at a high-end tech company, you had great coworkers for the most part… There was nothing to complain about besides the person who supervised your department.

That’s what made it so frustrating.

And to make matters worse, it was probably for the dumbest of reasons. Sure, no one wants coffee spilled on them, you would have gotten a little mad if you were in that situation; but there was no need to make someone’s life miserable because of a simple mistake— for years.

It’s not like you purposefully ran into him. You both had just turned the corner at the same time and bonked into each other. It happens. Some of your coworkers said you should have gone to his office later and begged for his forgiveness, but you thought that was ridiculous because it had just been an accident. A simple, unintentional mischance that could have happened to anyone.

It’s also not like you didn’t try to apologize— you both ran into each other the very next day, and as soon as you saw him, you hurried to catch up to him to tell him how sorry you were; you even offered to pay to get his suit cleaned or replaced. Jeon Jungkook hardly paid you any attention as he said it was fine and walked away with his posse of executives following him. It was strange, but you hoped that it just meant that your first meeting was water under the bridge and things would be fine. If you knew what you were in store for, you probably would have quit right on the spot, but not before you gave him one good, firm slap on your way out.

No, your ambition clouded your vision each time Director Son would give you assignments straight from the boss himself, and it was always mountains above your coworkers. You wanted to believe he saw potential in you, that maybe this was just an initiation into the office and all the newbies were given more work straight from the Head Director himself to showcase their abilities. This was just a test, you kept telling yourself for far too long, and in the end he’s going to see just how capable you are, earning his respect like everyone else did at some point. There weren’t that many people who worked on this floor in comparison to the rest of the building. All the teams were on the smaller side, so you figured this was just a tight-knit department you needed to steadily break your way into.

That’s how you kept yourself cheerful despite how it seemed like every night your workload would have you staying in the office until the wee hours of the morning trying to get everything done.

Everything changed when you weren’t the newest employee in your department anymore. Jungkook was oh so welcoming to your hoobaes and would give them slightly less work before steadily building up to the overwhelming amount everyone was eventually given. It wasn’t great, but it was lightyears ahead of what you experienced during your first few months at the company.

You kept telling yourself that there had to be a reason. You never really spoke to him, there was hardly any opportunity to piss him off; surely there was more of a reason than the incident on your first day.

The next person who joined the department after you did, you slowly began to notice the difference from your initial few months, and at first you had tried to come up with this whole theory in your head that maybe he was flirting with the newest member of the team. She was pretty and a lot of the guys around the office talked about her. You figured your boss might be like them, just another man trying to get into her pants, and for some reason easing her workload was his way of flirting.

That theory quickly died when Taehyung told you he was married despite you both apparently being the same age. Then Hoseok started working at the company and was given the same special treatment as her. Jungkook was seemingly nice and welcoming to everyone else but you.

That’s where your… annoyance, turned into hatred, because at the end of the day, you knew this was all simply because you had ACCIDENTALLY SPILLED COFFEE ALL OVER HIS STUPID, EXPENSIVE ASS SUIT (you checked when you got home how much it would cost you to replace it. If he would have taken you up on your offer, it would have had you living on ramen alone for months) AND HE JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU MISERABLE BECAUSE OF IT.

And maybe, just MAYBE, if that was the only suit he owned, you would have understood his pettiness a little better. You have this one nice dress you splurged on when you found out you’d gotten an interview for Golden Tech, and if someone had messed it up, it would have taken a lot more than an “I’m sorry” for you to fully get over it. But every day your coworkers would talk about how expensive his suits were, all belonging to brand names guys around the office knew about and would rave over. They would stand around sighing about how handsome he looked and how they felt like they needed to pay him just for gazing upon his presence.

It was a little dramatic, and even though Jungkook was never around to hear it, you always thought it was just another way to kiss his ass a little harder, vaguely hoping for the chance he would hear and reward them for their willingness to bend over backwards for him.

But that’s besides the point. One thing was clear from their words: Jungkook had money, and a lot of it, there was absolutely no valid reason for him to be that upset at you.

So you despised him.

You hated Jungkook longer than anyone at the office did. At first, they just seemed confused whenever you would rant your troubles to them— saying things like, “he normally wasn’t like this.” But as months turned to years, Jungkook’s pettiness began spreading to all the employees who worked under him. You couldn’t say he was the best boss in the world when you first started working at the company, but as the days passed, he seemed to get that much more rigid, cold, and reclusive.

It probably hadn’t even been a full year after you started working at Golden Tech, when all the employees joined you in complaining about how annoying he was to work for.

You used to see him all the time walking around the office doing this or that, but later on, you only saw him arrive but never leave. There were many instances in which almost everyone on the floor was given so much work, that you’d all have to stay past your normal hours; way too many times than anything reasonable. All he ever did was work, work, and work, making sure everyone was going above and beyond their job description. It was excessive, so much so that some people in your department ended up leaving because their job was interfering with their personal lives too much.

To make matters worse, everyone was always on edge. There were rumors that some of the people who were fired over the years were let go because they weren’t able to keep up with his outrageous demands. Some of your coworkers said that they left his office in tears because he basically belittled them to the ground, calling them worthless, and many other unspeakable things. It was awful. You never knew if this was actually true or not, no one really did, but it kept everyone on edge to the point that the mysterious Jeon Jungkook was feared amongst most. But it didn’t really matter to you.

You used to think you had a good understanding of him. All your coworkers who were brought into the department before you would always say he was this bright-eyed, sweet, eager to please kid who everyone had high hopes for. Jungkook had never shown any of this during the time since you’d been working here, so you honestly doubted their assurances.

According to you, ‘Jungkook’ and ‘sweet’ couldn’t even exist in the same sentence.

Jeon Jungkook was just a spoiled, rich kid who had no real interest in Golden Tech. He seemed to have no idea how to be a boss, was a sadistic asshole who got off on making people miserable, and was just there, waiting until the CEO position was handed off to him just because of who his daddy was— which you were sure would result in the crash and burn of the whole company.

A few months ago, he literally just didn’t show up to work for a week without any sort of notice. This left your department scrambling because important deadlines were coming up. When Friday rolled around the next week and he still wasn’t back, people kept asking where he was because certain things couldn’t get done without him at the office. He was basically MIA, no one was able to contact him.

Jimin had emailed everyone later that day because the complaints grew too loud. Jungkook apparently had been diagnosed with pneumonia earlier that day and wouldn’t be in for a while. An excuse, for sure, but that didn’t explain where he’d been for the last week. Maybe he was off vacationing in one of the many homes his family owned around the world, while your team was left scrambling during his absence.

But it seemed as though you were the only one who harbored any real hatred for him.

Many girls around the office would still fawn over his handsome face, making you roll your eyes every time, because all they needed was one glance their way and they were squealing like schoolgirls. Was that really all it took for everyone to forget how awful he was? You didn’t get it, not even one bit.

Even your friend was somehow pulled into the allure. When you’d pass by him in meetings, despite Solmi oftentimes being the listening ear to your rants about how impertinent you thought Jeon Jungkook was, she would still sometimes gaze at him sympathetically; it was something everyone around the office occasionally did.

“Something’s just off.”

“He wasn’t like this before, he was such a sweet kid.”

“Maybe it’s just stress?”

They would always have an explanation ready. You never understood why, but you weren’t working there yet when he was still “nice,” and they also weren’t on the receiving end of his pettiness directly.

Someone might laugh at the fact that you were still feeling the effects of your little incident nearly two years after it happened. But no matter how hard you worked, how many times you tried to apologize, nothing you did was ever enough to make him forgive you. So you opted to hate him, and you used that hate to fuel your ambition even further.

In some strange way, Jungkook’s pettiness ended up helping you in the long run. All that hard work you put in made the other executives notice you. Due to your previous experience at another big tech provider, you were quickly promoted to be the manager of one of the finance teams when the position became available.

That just helped open even more doors for you. It was only a few weeks after celebrating your second year at the company (October 6th, 2023, a little over 24 months after you were hired— not that you were bragging or anything), when Director Son informed you about the promotion. The associate director position became available due to her retiring; apparently, even while being relatively new in comparison to the other managers and on the younger side, they still believed you would be the best one to take over the position.

Of course you took it. You were only twenty-six and now the Associate Director of the financial team for the Seoul division at a trillion won tech company that was led by the CEO’s son. Again, not like you were bragging, but your resume was insane.

As nice as the high was, this… this is when everything changed.

See, some might call you strange that you hated someone so deeply when you barely even knew them. You honestly had no clue about him, you hardly ever saw the man besides during the very occasional meetings; but most of the time, he only met up with Director Son and the old associate director to get updates. You could probably use your fingers to count how many times you both have spoken to each other. Any time you’d normally communicate would only be over email, and it didn’t help how much he was in his office. The only things you really knew about Jungkook were that you both were the same age, that he was the CEO’s son, and supposedly, that he was married.

That's what most people knew about him, and of course there were probably tabloids out there if you ever wanted to learn more, but you never found the need to know anything else other than the basics.

That’s why when Jungkook called you into his office after your promotion, you were in for a rude awakening on the fact that you never really know what goes on behind closed doors.

The meeting itself wasn’t that eventful. Jungkook just wanted to elaborate more on your new role as an associate director and inform you about your new duties on the projects your team was currently working on. However, you ended up feeling differently than expected.

You’d spent the whole morning preparing for your first meeting with him. You had coached yourself the day before on how to approach it— you weren’t planning to be rude, but maybe a bit passive-aggressive; just enough to set a boundary to be taken seriously and establish yourself as a professional, not just some pushover.

You’d picked out your best ‘bad bitch’ outfit the night before— not for him— but to give yourself the extra confidence you needed to stand up to the person who’s been the bane of your existence for the past two years. You wore a tight, black dress with gold buttons detailing all the way down the front. It was probably the nicest thing in your closet besides the dress you bought for your interview. You paired it off with matching gold accessories and black stilettos with a cute gold heel. You couldn’t tell someone how long you spent working on your hair and makeup this morning trying to get that last level of perfection.

It was all worth it though. When you arrived at the office that day, you held your head high as you made your way to your desk. A smile was plastered on your face as your heels clicked through the halls. Your coworkers were staring and whispering while you walked past them, the attention making your heart swell, because at the end of the day, you knew they were only saying good things.

It gave you a nice confidence boost, but as the time ticked away, it was obvious to your friends you weren’t as composed as you wanted them to believe. As the time of the meeting approached, Taehyung and Solmi tried their best to calm you down as you rehearsed what you thought would happen later.

“Grrr, I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I hereby bestow you this mountain load of paperwork.” Solmi said dramatically, as she shook a piece of paper in front of your face before setting it down gracefully on your desk.

You cleared your throat. “I’ll take care of these, Director Jeon. And as the new associate director, I hope we can establish a more compassionate relationship.” When you finished, you eagerly looked up at your two friends.

“Yeah, she’s going to get eaten alive.” Taehyung sighed, concern filled his eyes the longer he stared at you. Solmi shared the same worried look.

“Calm down guys, I think I got this.” You smiled as you turned to your computer and saw the time. There was only an hour left.

“Y/n, we’ll wait for you as close as we can. Scream if he tries to eat you.” Solmi said as she rested her hand on your shoulder.

You looked over at Taehyung, who seemed to grow more worried by the second.

“I’ll be fine. If anything, he should be more scared that I’ll eat him first.” You laughed a little too hard, but seeing the look on Solmi’s face made you realize that might not have been the best way to phrase it.

No matter the amount of smiles or jokes you shared with your friends, nothing could stop the anxiety from creeping in, it just made you even more terrified of what might happen later. You were worried if you’d even walk out of it still having a job (let’s just say you had a lot you wanted to say to him, but one wrong move would be enough for you to derail from your well-rehearsed script and finally spill that can of worms full of deep seeded anger).

When the time finally arrived, Secretary Yu told you Director Jeon was in a meeting and that you could have a seat in his office for the time being. You bowed at her words, but on your way in you couldn’t help but roll your eyes because of course he was late. You were so busy cursing him out in your head, it didn’t even register that you were in his office for the first time until the door closed behind you.

You were shocked to find you weren’t greeted with a demon’s lair like what you had expected. His office was relatively modern, with lots of black furniture— it was sleek and expensive like everything he owned. There were a couple of plants sitting around that added a nice splice of greenery. His office also had a big window with a nice view to the right that overlooked the city. However, what you were most surprised to find were all the family photos sprinkled around the place.

There were some that sat on his desk but your eyes were immediately drawn to the three big pictures on the wall beside you as you came in.

The one that sat right in the middle you were sure was a family photo of the Jeon family. You recognized the CEO sitting on a chair that almost looked like a throne. There was also a small, slightly older, beautiful woman who was dazzlingly dressed sitting on a stool next to him, holding his hand, and two boys stood behind them. One you instantly recognized as Jungkook, only a little younger— maybe college-aged, and standing right behind him was a man who looked like he could have been his twin. He stood maybe a few centimeters taller and shared the same face, except he had a few more of his mom’s features, his sharp eyes for example. You had to assume it was the brother you heard your coworkers talk about from time to time. On the other hand, Jungkook was nearly the spitting image of the CEO, only decades younger.

What you paid the most attention to was their smiles. Everyone in the picture looked so happy, all big smiles that seemed to resemble the CEO’s. It felt almost strange seeing how happy Jungkook looked in the picture. You honestly thought he was incapable of smiling.

It was like a whole different guy was in the picture.

When you looked at the photo that sat on the right, closest to where you stood, you were greeted by a very cinematic shot of Jungkook and who you could only assume was his wife on their wedding day. He had lifted her by her waist and they were lovingly staring into each other’s eyes, again with big smiles plastered on their faces. Jungkook didn’t look too much older than he did in the first picture, and his wife also couldn’t have been much younger than him. It made you wonder how long they had been together. As far as you knew, he was married even before you started working for Golden Tech. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-four, but just based on the picture, he definitely looked younger than that.

They must have really loved each other… You couldn’t imagine being married now, let alone years ago.

But everyone had been right, she really was pretty. How was he married? You couldn’t help but wonder how his wife was able to put up with his pretentious ass. You could barely deal with him and you hardly knew the man.

You felt for her in that moment.

Furthest from you was a picture you could barely see, but it looked like another picture from their wedding day. Jungkook and his wife in her gorgeous dress were sitting down on a fancy ottoman and a bunch of other people stood around them. Some you could recognize from the Jeon family portrait, so you just assumed all the others must be his wife’s family.

Again, seeing how happy he was in the picture was a little uncanny. There was no way that was the same man who made your life at work so miserable.

Looking at the photos only became more unsettling when the door was bursting open and you were suddenly faced with the actual, present-day Jeon Jungkook. Your eyes immediately snapped onto his, your mind went blank as you tried to process the fact that he was standing there right in front of you. He was stuck in place, he seemed just as surprised to see you in the way his startled expression turned into shock and his wide eyes peered over you. You barely registered the fact that Jimin was standing behind him, too busy trying to calm yourself from a near heart attack.

It was suddenly so obvious why Jungkook didn’t seem like the same person in the pictures you had just seen. He looked different. It wasn’t only the fact that he looked a little older, but his eyes…

He looked so tired, like he hadn’t slept well in months. The dark circles around his eyes deprived him of that same cheery persona he put on for the camera. And maybe this was just you reading into it too much, but you couldn’t help but think he also just seemed… dismal? It was strange, but if you weren’t trying to be on your best behavior, you would have advised him to take a nap before starting your meeting.

If that wasn’t enough, he was also visibly thinner. Like you could still see a bit of definition as he moved underneath his expensive suit jacket, but his slimmer frame didn’t seem to help and only made him look even more tired.

Your coworkers might have been right; maybe it really was the stress. How hadn’t you ever noticed this before? Had he always looked like this but you just never realized?

“Uh, sorry we’re late. We were stuck in a meeting that went on longer than expected.” Jimin suddenly said, finally breaking the silence and making you snap out of your daze.

It was only then that you realized you had practically been staring down Jungkook. To be fair, you had never seen him this up close before, at least not close enough to actually look at him.

You quickly bowed.

“I’m sorry! Secretary Yu told me to wait. I—” You panicked, realizing how strange this might look that you were just standing here right in front of the door.

Your eyes immediately locked onto Jungkook’s waiting for the annoyance to hit his features, any sign to point to the fact that you gave him another reason to hate you, but instead he just seemed dazed. Your eyes tried to follow his gaze wondering what he was staring at, and you were left a little stunned to see him looking over you.

Did he forget you were coming today? What was going on? You glanced down, worried something may have gotten on your dress earlier during lunch and he was about to criticize you for your unprofessionalism, but you were just left confused when you didn’t notice anything, and the silence continued for far too long.

“Ummm…” Jimin looked over at Jungkook when he still hadn’t said anything yet.

You shrugged, just as perplexed as he was.

When Jungkook still didn’t say anything, Jimin, like the angel he was, eventually took it upon himself to reassure you it was fine and that you had just startled them.

You bowed and apologized once again, your cheeks burned under the weight of their gaze, but Jimin just smiled and told you yet again it was fine. His comforting words and smile eased your beating heart a little more as he ushered you over to Jungkook’s desk. Not wanting to make things any more awkward than they already were, you quickly made your way over to one of the cushiony chairs that sat across from the desk. The whole time you felt their eyes nearly burn a hole in your skull, your skin warmed with each step you took, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you messed this up already.

You figured Jimin must have finally managed to get Jungkook to snap out of whatever held his attention so deeply, he eventually came back into view and sat in his own fancy office chair in front of you, and Jimin chose to stand right beside him.

Jungkook awkwardly coughed once everyone got settled trying to fill the silence in the room, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you swear you saw his cheeks start dusting pink as he looked at you.

This could not be the same demon you’ve worked with for two years. Jungkook could hardly meet your eyes, seemingly trying to look everywhere else but you. He looked visibly flustered and… shy? Who was this man, and what did he do with the Jungkook you thought you knew?

“I’m so sorry, I—… um, sorry we were late. It’s nice to see you Y/n.” He commented softly with a smile. No, there was no way this was the same guy.

After Jimin took a moment to congratulate you on your promotion (he told you to visit his office later for a surprise), the meeting carried on rather uneventfully in regard to your conversation. Jungkook didn’t eat you, nor did you ever need to whip out any of your passive-aggressive responses that you’d practiced. To be honest, you were only halfway paying attention to everything that was being discussed.

Your brain was far more interested in just observing him, picking apart all the little details you never had the chance to notice in the past:

He had a mole that sat just underneath his lower lip, and anytime he’d be thinking about what to say next for longer than normal, he’d bite into the flesh and then you could see the little dot right there on full display. He also had a scar on his cheek— you barely noticed it, but when the light hit his face at just the right angle, you could see the indention. Or how come you never realized that he had a slight lisp when he talked? It was slight, only making an appearance if he started rambling for a little too long; you wondered how you’d never noticed it before.

It was quite obvious early on into the meeting that Jungkook was not this scary, evil monster who hid away in his spooky cave. Jungkook would speak, there were moments when Jimin would jump in to help, they easily bounced off of each other, and in between the business talk, they would sometimes joke around with one another. You hated to admit it, but you found them a little cute as you watched them interact.

However, you still noticed that when Jungkook laughed, his smile never looked like the one in any of the pictures that sat behind you. His eyes wouldn’t crinkle, his top lip wouldn’t almost disappear, and that dimple that was on his left cheek never came into view— yes, he had dimples— multiple sets apparently that you had also never noticed.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was faking it, but the one other thing you knew about Jungkook was that he and Jimin had been friends for a long time. Jimin had mentioned to you briefly during the few occasions you’ve talked that he’s known Jungkook since the younger was in elementary school; and it was clear during the meeting that they were close.

The more you looked at him, the more you grew concerned. He definitely seemed… off. It was the same feeling that you’d gotten all those years ago about your friend in high school. His eyes, you just couldn’t get over the look in his eyes. They held the same emptiness that your friend Mi-Sun’s did all those years ago. His hair had grown to almost completely shield his gaze, but you still noticed.

In the past, his hair would normally be shorter and slicked back with a fresh undercut always on display. It was a few months ago when he seemingly started to grow it out. When he walked in, it was obvious he had been running his hands through it in the way the dark strands were pushed back. Yet as the meeting continued, more and more strands would fall into his face, and he would go back to hiding his sad gaze behind his hair. It almost reminded you of the same look he had that day you spilled coffee all over his suit— even then he seemed tired and sad, but now it was so much more blatant.

It was almost immediately that your harbored hatred for Jeon Jungkook turned into genuine concern. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who’d have everyone on the floor staying overtime almost every single day.

That didn’t necessarily excuse how petty he acted over the years, you didn’t forget, but it did make you feel bad about how you let your emotions get the best of you.

The fact that Jungkook was the same age as you and managed everyone that worked on your floor— being associate director of your division’s financial team already seemed daunting— but you couldn’t even fathom the stress that came with his position.

“Y/n? Did you get all that?” Jimin asked, breaking you out of your daze.

“Yes-yes! I’m sorry.” You stammered, trying your best to recollect yourself.

“Just wanted to make sure you got everything. We covered a lot.” He laughed, but you were too focused on Jungkook shying away from your gaze— his face was definitely a little redder than before. You tried your best to ignore the way your heart ached at the sight.

You had to get out of here.

“Thank you so much. I’ll be sure to email you if I have any questions.” You bowed your head slightly at them.

If things couldn’t get any weirder, when you looked back up at him, you noticed Jungkook was staring at you— again with those same sad eyes. It was on the tip of your tongue to invite him out for dinner, or to tell him that maybe it would be best to take the day off or something— anything to possibly help get back the cheeriness he had in the pictures behind you. But you knew you would be overstepping a boundary, and since you were so new to your position, you felt it was best to not take a chance; so, after a few more awkward goodbyes, you left his office.

“I have to get this done, he has to see that I’m—“ The door shut behind you before you could hear the rest.

Instantly you looked around for your friends, and like they promised, you found them awkwardly standing not too far away from Secretary Yu’s desk trying not to make it obvious they were waiting for you. As soon as they saw you, you knew they wanted to ask how it went, but instead you grabbed Tae by the hand and quickly walked down the hall, ignoring Solmi’s confused remarks as you sped past her.

“Taehyung.” You said alarmingly as you both walked.

“What happened? Did he start yelling at you or something?” Taehyung questioned very seriously, looking back the way you both had just come from. Apparently, you didn’t respond fast enough because he ended up stopping you both in your tracks. You looked over at him and could see the way his expression had shifted, his face was etched with concern now, and the underlying anger was not hard to pick up on.

“Y/n, what happened?” He asked far more sternly, grabbing you by the shoulder so you’d look at him. You couldn’t help but glanced down, noticing the way his other hand tightened into a fist.

“What? No— Just… What do you know about Director Jeon?” You quickly followed up with.

You could see the gears turning in his head.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been here longer than me. What do you know about him?” You asked again, your gaze turned to worry as you looked back toward where Jungkook’s office was.

Taehyung was noticeably confused. “Why, what happened?”

You sighed. “Nothing, I mean, we just talked but… I don’t know, he just seemed so… sad. It was weird.”

“Sad?”

“You should have seen him Tae… it was like… I don’t know, he looked so tired.” You were honestly a bit worried. One minute you hated his entire existence, the next you found yourself seriously concerned for his well-being.

It would be easier to hate him if he didn’t look like a kicked puppy.

The tension quickly faded from Taehyung’s features, he let his hand rest back down at his side and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I was wondering if you knew anything.” You questioned again when he hadn’t said anything, but Taehyung eventually shook his head.

“I don’t have much to say, he’s always been a pretty quiet guy. I know nothing outside of what he does at the company, and that he’s married to that supermodel. Jimin would probably know, they hang out all the time.”

You nodded while his words processed in your head. Taehyung was probably right, Jimin was the best person to talk to. You wanted to think there was a chance at the explanation being simple, like maybe he was having a rough day or something, but that didn’t stop you from being worried.

You had a feeling it wasn’t that straightforward.

“Yah, you had me scared for a second.” Taehyung breathed out a shaky laugh.

“Why? You didn’t think I could handle myself in there?” You chuckled lightly, recalling how serious he got.

“No, you’re perfectly capable. It was me I was worried about. I thought I was going to have to put my job and freedom on the line.” The way he said it carried that same comical tone, but there was something very serious as well in its implications. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he meant by that.

You looked at him wide-eyed for a second, a bit at a loss knowing he’d be willing to go that far for you. Even in the worst-case scenario, you wouldn’t consider losing your job, and certainly not going to jail, over something like that.

Taehyung returned your gaze and smiled at you, warm and reassuring as always, before you both finally started to hear the hurried clicking of Solmi’s heels making it around the corner.

“Yah! Why did you guys just leave me?!”

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin's role at the office made his life more complicated than it needed to be. Besides being Jungkook’s friend, his job also had him working a lot more closely with the younger in comparison to the other executives. He was the associate director to Jungkook’s position, and pretty much handled a lot of the grunt work. He would always step up to his friend’s role whenever Jungkook wasn’t in the building, and he was already in line to take over the next time Jungkook was promoted. Jimin was in great standing in contrast to others around his age, and he would always be eternally grateful to Jungkook and his family for giving him this opportunity. However, balancing the crazy workload Jungkook always asked of him— everyone in the department really, plus just trying his best to be there for his friend, was a task he sometimes questioned if he could manage.

Because of the way he bounced between being by Jungkook’s side and working with managers in the office, he was oftentimes caught in the middle of the drama and heard all the gossip and rumors that would go around. People in the department would complain, and there was some part of him that sympathized with their woes because his friend would really go off the deep end at times with his demands, but there was the other side who was still Jungkook’s friend. Jimin had to deal with Jungkook deteriorating right before his eyes, while simultaneously being subjected to hearing his colleagues badmouthing his friend, who to him, was clearly suffering. Jimin couldn’t even say anything. He was watching his best friend fall apart, and having people say the worst things about him, all without them knowing what he was going through, made it difficult to stand idly by and listen.

It wasn’t even like he could tell them because even he didn’t truly know what was going on.

Jimin had cherished the day Jungkook began opening up to him after he started to notice something was wrong. Just as Jungkook seemed to get more comfortable in sharing the issues he was dealing with in his marriage, at the beginning of the year was when those walls came back up thicker, higher, and practically impenetrable.

Jimin had hoped that it meant things were getting better between him and Yuri, but it was painfully obvious Jungkook was just getting worse and worse as the days went on. You weren’t the only one noticing how much he changed. Jimin was by his side the entire time as he saw firsthand how life continued to drain out of him as the days went by.

Jimin had seriously tried his best to be there for him, but no matter what, Jungkook continued pushing him away. He would brush off any of his concerns and drown himself— and everyone else around him— with work.

It was hard to watch.

Jimin could never forget what happened a few weeks ago. He came to work early on Jungkook’s birthday to drop off a gift with the hope to surprise him later when he’d come in, but instead was nearly scared shitless once he opened the door and turned on the lights to find Jungkook passed out at his desk. There was a bottle of vodka and enough empty cans of beer covering the surface to almost shield him from view and encase him in completely.

Jimin had known Jungkook was going to stay overtime the day before, he’d even seen the beer he brought in, but he brushed it off thinking he was simply restocking the mini fridge in his office. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to share a drink together after hours, a good beer was always the perfect remedy to wash away their stress. However, it was obvious from the overturned box that he’d drunk the entire pack all by himself, plus the vodka he had no idea Jungkook even had in here.

That was not it. As Jimin looked around his office, he found another box had been opened, and he wondered if it had fallen off his desk because of the way the cans were sprawled across the floor (definitely less than the twelve that came in the pack). As Jimin steadily got closer, he noticed one of the cans was tipped over beside him, the sticky liquid pooling on his desk, like he’d passed out with the drink still in his hand.

It was a concerning sight to say the least, and nearly gave him a heart attack as he hurriedly rushed over to make sure his friend was ok (alive). His mind raced with the worst thoughts possible as he tried to shake him awake.

Jimin had planned the whole day out to give his friend the best 26th birthday in the history of birthdays. What was supposed to be the start of a celebration turned into a nightmare when Jungkook didn’t immediately wake up. It was honestly a miracle he did. It took some time; it was like the universe itself had slowed down as he waited for something, anything. Tears had welled up in his eyes, Jimin had been so close to calling 119, when in a fit of desperation he slapped Jungkook’s back a little too hard. That was apparently enough to finally get him to stir awake.

“Owwwwww…” Jungkook moaned, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to reach back and rub the spot where it ached.

Jimin had a lot to say, most of which he figured went in one ear and out the other since Jungkook was clearly still drunk. He hated nagging, especially when his friend was out of it like that, but he really had scared him. Jimin pulled him into a hug as he went on and on about how stupid he was.

“Why you soooooo loud?” Jungkook whined, pulling out of Jimin’s arms and laying back down on his desk.

“Because— Jungkook, have you not been listening? Do you know how much you drank?!” Jimin nearly yelled pointing to all the cans and the vodka bottle that practically covered the desk.

“Shhhhh! I ne— have wake up for work later… I’m trying to sleep…” Jimin found it hard to understand him because of the way his words slurred together, like somehow he could understand that.

“Didn’t efen dink much.” Jungkook mumbled, as if it was any other Friday, and Jimin was being overdramatic.

As much as he could have kept the battle going, Jimin made the executive decision that there was no way in hell Jungkook would be able to work today, let alone ride along for his birthday surprise. He was better off trying to sleep this off.

Somehow Jimin was able to get him downstairs, but by the time Jimin was sitting him down in the passenger seat of his car, his arms ached, and his whole body screamed in fatigue. He was stuck carrying Jungkook’s entire weight all the way from his office to the elevators, where he needed to wait for the elevator to go up twenty stories, before going back down those same twenty stories, and then truck through the entire parking garage because his dumbass thought it was best to park in his usual spot, all the way at the far end.

Jimin wanted to be annoyed, he wanted this to just be a one-time thing that they both could laugh about in the future, but there was definitely something wrong. Something was wrong all the time, but there were too many signs for this situation to be passed off as just a “rough night.”

This wasn’t his first time carrying Jungkook. Jimin liked to occasionally pick him up to emphasize “just because you’re taller, doesn’t mean I can’t still swing you around,” mainly to show off his efforts in the gym— but Jimin could tell over the months, years even, that his friend had grown lighter. With the way he needed to carry him, his arm wrapped around his waist, he could really tell just how much thinner he’d gotten.

And there still was the question of what made him drink so much…

Jimin’s head was swirling with worry as he got in his car, wondering what he should do from here. He’d considered taking Jungkook to the hospital, he had no idea how much he really drank, but the fact he was able to make it downstairs he figured meant he was ok enough to sleep this off, hopefully.

He sighed and turned over to Jungkook who was already passed out beside him. Jimin reached over to open his suit jacket and fished out the phone in the pocket he’d placed it in. Somehow the facial recognition still worked with Jungkook’s passed-out face, and Jimin was able to pull up his contact list.

Yuri 💞

Jimin rolled his eyes seeing the hearts next to her name knowing how fake that emoji was.

“It’s like we’re a real couple now…” Jungkook had nervously chuckled that day he changed Yuri’s contact in his phone— merely hours before his engagement party.

How Jungkook hadn’t ended up changing it was beyond him.

Yuri 🖕🏻was more appropriate in his opinion.

Jimin took a deep breath before he hit the call button. Now, Jimin loved using the word hate when it came to Yuri. While he wasn’t aware of all the details of their relationship, Jimin just knew deep down she was the reason for Jungkook’s rapid decline— maybe it’d been her fault he drank so much.

It took a couple of rings, but Jimin was thoroughly surprised she actually picked up.

“What—“

“Yuri, it's Jimin.” He was quick to interrupt her.

There was silence over the line for a while, like she was trying to remember who that was.

“Jungkook’s friend… coworker—“

“I know that— what— why do you have his phone?” For a split second, he believed she sounded a little concerned.

“I thought you would know— how did you not notice he didn’t come home last night?” Jimin was seething the more he thought about the possibility that this was somehow connected to Yuri, but he tried his best to keep himself calm for Jungkook’s sake.

“He told me he was working late.” She put it so plainly.

“And you just let him? You do realize today’s his birthday, right?” Jimin just rolled his eyes as the silence continued on the other line. At the moment, the pieces seemed to click in his head. Was it the fact Yuri clearly forgot his birthday the reason Jungkook practically drowned himself in alcohol?

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t, but maybe it was, and that possibility was enough for him. Jimin had to take a couple of deep breaths to stop himself from screaming at her, but once again, he calmed himself down. Today was not the day for this.

“Anyway, Jungkook got really— really drunk last night, and I’m worried about leaving him alone. If you’re not already there, could you meet me at your apartment and watch over him? I would do it myself but I have work in an hour so—“

“Can’t you just put him on the bed or something? I don’t think he needs a babysitter—“

“Yuri, I don’t think you understand, he’s really—“ But before he could finish, Jimin suddenly turned to see Jungkook hurriedly pushing open the door. He couldn’t even question him before it became obvious that the nausea, which had made the whole journey downstairs that much harder, had finally taken its toll.

Jimin set the phone down and reached over to rub his back lightly. He tried his best to ignore the unpleasant sounds and the dry heaving that went on for a while; his heart ached seeing his friend’s pitiful condition. Things only got worse when it finally seemed to be the end of it, the sounds of soft whimpers started to fill the growing silence.

“Hyung… I’m so sorry.” Jimin hardly caught it, Jungkook was so quiet and his voice was a little hoarse.

“Jungkook—“

Jungkook sat up and hesitantly faced him. His eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears that flowed harder the longer he looked at him.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry.” Jungkook just sobbed.

“It’s fine, please don’t—“

“This is so fucking embarrassing, I’m so sorry, this is so pathetic, I—I—“

“Jungkook, you're not pathetic,” Jimin interjected, trying his best to keep strong.

“Fucking threw up in the parking lot— can’t get much worse.” Jungkook choked out.

“It could be, don’t say that because this could get so much worse.” Jimin had a few ideas, mainly in the fact that he could have been stuck riding in an ambulance worried for his friend’s life. “By the way, are you ok? I was going to take you home, but we can stop by the hospital to make sure you’re ok if you need it.”

Jungkook lazily shook his head. “Just take me back to my office, I have to work—“

It was then that Jimin started the car. “Don’t even think about it, I’m taking you home.” Jimin buckled the both of them in and started making his way out of the garage.

“Can— hyung, can you go slower?” Jungkook mumbled, leaning back in his seat.

“Do you still feel sick?” Jimin grimaced as he briefly worried about his car’s freshly cleaned interior.

“Yeah,” just the mention of the word seemed to make him nauseous all over again. “My head hurts too—“ They finally made it out of the garage, the morning sun quickly filled the car. Like a vampire in disguise, Jungkook groaned and tried to duck away from the rays floating in.

“I’ll be gentle— luckily it’s early enough so there isn’t too much traffic, we should make it to your place soon.”

There was silence for a little while. In the moment, Jimin remembered the fact he’d never hung up the phone with Yuri, but one quick glance down, and he saw she’d left. All he could do was hope she’d be there.

“Hyung, I feel like so much shit.” Jungkook slurred. He’d closed his eyes, hoping it might help ease the nausea or how much his head pounded with every bump or slight turn in the road, but it wasn’t helping at all.

“Mmm I bet, get ready for the worst hangover of your life.” Jimin tried to joke, but all he got was a choked sob in return.

“It’s what I fucking deserve.” Jungkook blubbered as he looked out the window, tears quickly filled his eyes before they started falling uncontrollably. “Can’t make her happy, just want to make her happy! Hyung she’s so miserable, and it’s all my fault!” The breakdown had come out of nowhere, but it had Jungkook in its grasp and had no plans of letting him go.

Jimin had no idea what to do. They’ve had so many talks about it at this point, but Jungkook never went into enough detail for him to ever be able to really help him. Even while drunk, Jungkook seemed to keep the details about what was going through his head locked away, never to see the light of day.

“Jungkook…” Jimin reached over and rested a hand on his thigh.

“Are you ok?” The question lingered in the air in between Jungkook’s sobs. The more Jimin’s question seemed to dawn on him, the more distraught he became.

“And I mean this seriously, like clearly you’re not fine, but are you… fine?” Jimin had hoped he’d answer. A simple ‘no’ would have been a step in the right direction, but he said nothing, letting the tears stream down his face suffice for an actual answer.

“Because if something is wrong, you know you can talk to me, right? Anything, it could be anything that’s on your mind.” Jimin looked over at his friend as they approached a red light, taking a moment to realize just how pitiful he looked. His suit jacket had been thrown in the backseat, his tie was barely hanging on, his face was red and covered with tears, and Jimin had to stop every two seconds to help try and ease the nausea.

“I can’t lie, I’m really worried about you. If something is bothering you, please know you can tell me anything.” Jimin was trying not to get emotional, but he’d never seen Jungkook like this in all the years he’d known him. Ever since she came into his life, everything had gone to shit. He knew all of this was her fault and Jungkook’s decline was too painful to watch.

Jimin was worried, so fucking worried actually, that he feared every time he’d leave his friend’s side. While all of this could just be ruled as some random drunken breakdown, Jimin knew it was a small window into what was going on inside his friend’s tormented mind.

“Please say you’d tell me Jungkook…” Jimin gently shook his leg, desperately wanting the reassurance that if things were as bad as he feared, that he’d say something.

When Jungkook’s sobs stopped, Jimin hoped he’d give him an answer, but instead, he watched as Jungkook leaned up, and grabbed onto the dashboard while attempting deep, steady breaths.

“Hyung…” His voice was quiet yet pained.

“Yes?” All Jimin wanted to know was that he’d say something.

“Pull—“ A couple more deep breaths “Please pull over…”

It took a second for the words to register. “Wha— why—“

“N-Now!” Jungkook tried to emphasize as he quickly had to put his hand over his mouth.

Luckily for the both of them, there was an opening on the street up ahead. Before Jimin could question it any further, Jungkook was already stumbling out of the car and toward the trash can that was on the street corner.

Jimin never got that reassurance he needed, not that day, or any other day afterward. He wondered if Jungkook had heard him at all.

When Jungkook got back, he was crying all over again about how pathetic he was, the cycle starting anew. But it only took about two minutes before Jungkook passed out once again, and he was asleep until Jimin was shaking him awake when they’d finally made it to his apartment.

The journey upstairs was just as difficult as going downstairs at Golden Tech. Jungkook had sobered up a little, but Jimin, once again, was stuck carrying him to the elevator. His exhaustion, the nausea, his head, everything really, made it hard for Jungkook to stand. Slowly but surely, they finally made it up to his door.

Jimin had hoped when they arrived that Yuri would be there. He knew, despite his own feelings, how happy it would have made Jungkook at that moment, and it was the least she could do after everything. He wanted to think maybe, just maybe, she’d show up, especially after Jimin had to remind her that it was her husband’s birthday. He hated the fact that he had let a glimmer of hope spark. Deep down he wished that his conversation with her earlier was all just an act to not spoil Jungkook of a surprise waiting for him back at their apartment. Even if that wasn’t the case, he still hoped that she would at least be there. But after Jimin punched in the code and opened the door, the apartment was just as empty as it normally was.

He couldn’t even say that he wasn’t surprised.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jungkook had somehow found the strength to wiggle out of Jimin’s grasp. Free from his hold, Jimin watched as Jungkook started clumsily wrangling out of his suit jacket Jimin had put back on him earlier. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight and went over to grab Jungkook’s phone out of the jacket pocket.

Yuri had texted since they came up.

‘Sorry, won’t be back ‘till late. Busy.’ It was short, blunt, and to the point.

Yuri wasn’t coming.

Jimin sighed. He didn’t know why he was expecting anything different; she couldn’t even be by his side when he had pneumonia. Maybe it was for the best, he didn’t trust Yuri alone with his friend anyway.

“Hyuuuunnggggg…” Jungkook whined. Jimin finally looked up and noticed he’d stripped all the way down to his boxers.

“Is Yuri coming?” He asked as he flopped onto the couch.

“You know, the bed would be better…” Jimin chuckled lightly before walking over to him. He grabbed the throw that was draped over the couch and fluffed it over him.

“Too far…” He grumbled into the leather.

Mmm, of course.

“Hyung— Yuri…?”

“She said she’s busy.” Jimin tried to maintain a soft smile as he saw the disappointment settle in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Of course she is…” Jimin hated the way he saw Jungkook’s lip quiver.

“It’s ok, I’ll stay by your side.” Work was out of the picture, Jimin knew better than to leave him alone when he was like this. “You know, I had this whole plan today to celebrate your birthday.” Jimin suddenly remembered he’d left Jungkook’s present back in his office, he forgot to grab it on his way out. “We can bring the celebration here though. I could start it off by making you breakfast—“

Jimin turned around to see Jungkook already fast asleep.

Not much happened that day, Jungkook didn’t wake up until the sun was setting. In that time Jimin had made a quick trip back to the office, both to tell everyone Jungkook was sick and wouldn’t be at work today, and to grab that present he had left.

Jimin went the extra mile with it, hoping the right gift would help put that pep back in his friend’s step. He was honestly very worried about the present as he prepared it, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jungkook would like it as much as he hoped. What he didn’t expect was Jungkook’s teary reaction through his bleary eyes (despite the fact that he’d slept for the last 12 hours), as he peeled back the wrapping paper.

“You used to play all the time back when we were in high school and college, maybe getting back into it would be good for you.” Jimin smiled.

Sitting on Jungkook’s lap was the box of a new, sleek, black, custom-made electric guitar— the exact one Jungkook had told Jimin so many years ago that he wanted to buy when he started earning a good amount of money.

“This… hyung what I would give to play this, but… Yuri hates it when I’m loud, I don’t think she’ll let me play it.” Despite his words, Jungkook continued to stare at the picture over the box, letting his hand lightly run over it.

Jimin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the mention of that woman, tired of her always coming in the way of everything. “Well fuck her! Don’t let her stop you, she’s not even here right now. Please~ I wanted to see you play before I leave.” Jimin should have been a little more cautious with his words considering who he was talking to, but at the end of the day, he meant every word.

Fuck her!

Jungkook’s face dropped, looking less than pleased.

“Hyung, thank you so much for staying here with me today— and for the present, but maybe it’s best if you leave.” Jungkook suddenly sounded very serious as he spoke.

“Huh? What, why?” Jimin was confused at the sudden change in mood.

“I know how you feel about Yuri, but I don’t appreciate you speaking about my wife like that—“

“But Jungkook, you can’t possibly—“

“Leave hyung! Go— please just go!” Jungkook demanded, looking more pissed than ever.

In the silence that followed, this was when Jimin began getting angry. The longer he stared into Jungkook’s eyes, the more he couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Jungkook be choosing someone who hardly paid him any attention over the person he’s been able to count on and has known since he was in elementary school?

“I can’t believe you’re fucking kicking me out and sticking up for the bitch who couldn’t even be here with you on your birthday.” Jimin angrily mumbled as he got up to put on his shoes. It was a low blow, Jimin could have phrased it a little differently since he knew he was hitting a sensitive topic. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook, but that was the only thing he regretted.

The silence that settled in the room was painful.

“I swear if you’re not out the door in five fucking seconds, I will end you!” Jungkook said slowly through gritted teeth, giving Jimin a glare that he was sure he would never forget in his life. He’d never seen Jungkook so mad, never thought it was possible to make him that mad, and it was over Yuri?

Five seconds was too long before he heard Jungkook’s hurried footsteps behind him. It was probably only because of the haze of the hangover still weighing Jungkook down, that Jimin was able to grab his shoes, quickly slam the door behind him, and walk away unscathed.

Things just weren’t the same after that.

How could they be?

It’s like Jungkook was pushing him away, and as much as Jimin tried his fucking best to be there for him, he was only human and feelings got in the way sometimes. He regretted leaving that day, with how things played out, anything could’ve happened considering the way Jungkook had been acting lately.

Jimin seriously thought pushing Jungkook to seek professional help would be enough to bring his best friend back— he’d been ecstatic when Jungkook told him he was finally going to therapy, but it seemed that after the first session, he never went back… at least if he did, Jimin didn’t know about it.

Things were bad, probably worse if he knew the whole story. But that— that is exactly the reason why it pissed him off so much every time his coworkers would complain about Jungkook. How could they not see? It was plain as day that something wasn’t right.

That’s why when you came to his office later for your surprise (he gave you a celebratory bottle of expensive champagne) and asked him about Jungkook, it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Director Park, I hope this isn’t weird to ask, but—”

“Did you have a question?” He interrupted, fully expecting this to be about your new position.

“No— well, yes, but everything is clear from the meeting. It’s just—” You played with the bottle in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“Director Jeon— is he… is he okay?” You seemed genuinely concerned, leaving Jimin too stunned to speak for a second.

See, Jimin didn’t hate you, but he knew— everyone who worked on this floor knew— that you didn’t like Jungkook, at all. Your reasons were a little understandable, considering the way his friend had treated you since you started working here.

Jungkook had no reason to target you because of a mistake you made years ago. Even Jimin had no idea why he was being so petty about it, considering he was normally an easygoing guy. He knew Jungkook didn’t hate you, but he could never pinpoint why he treats you like that.

“Jimin?” You questioned when he continued to stare at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine… um, you’re asking about Jungkook?”

You nodded. “I don’t know during the meeting… sorry, I might be overstepping, but something just seemed off.”

Jimin continued to stare at you, a little unsure of what to say. He wanted so badly to tell you— honestly, he was just happy you noticed— but…

Even he didn’t know what was going on anymore.

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin never gave you a straight answer. He dodged it entirely actually, not at all calming your nerves about your strange meeting.

You went home that day with Jungkook on your mind, but not like how he usually was— with you cursing his entire bloodline. No, instead you found yourself wondering what he was doing.

Did he eat today?

Was he sleeping alright?

Anything to write off today as just a bad day, but as the days turned into weeks in your new position, your concern never lightened up. The more time you spent working closer to him, the more you began seeing all the signs you did back then in high school with Mi-Sun.

It was like it was happening all over again. It took an attempt for you to fully realize what was happening the last time, but you saw the signs back then just like you did now. Something was wrong, very wrong actually, but every time you met one-on-one, you never found it in yourself to ask him directly how he was doing.

Do you still hate Jeon Jungkook? No, and you hate to say you ever did. Would you whine every time he gave you 15 billion tasks to do in one day? Yes, you did every time. But it was clear he must be dealing with a lot, so you just started keeping your complaints to yourself.

Now nearly a month into getting your new position, you had enough things on your plate to deal with other than whining 24/7 about your workload.

Today you had to lead a meeting in Director Son’s absence. The drastic drop in temperature had been enough to due him in and he’s been out sick all week. It was at the worst time too, everything was ridiculously hectic because of the holiday season coming up.

Without Director Son here, you were basically the acting director. You’ve been scrambling with all the shit that was being piled into your lap, but you tried to keep a brave face.

This presentation nearly made you collapse. It was a big meeting, and Director Son only gave you a few days to prepare after he let you know he was probably going to be out for a while. But you smashed it, because that’s what you always do. You couldn’t help but smile when you earned a round of applause after you concluded the last slide, and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as everyone slowly started getting up and leaving the meeting room.

It was finally over…

You went to go pack up your stuff when you suddenly felt someone tap your shoulder. Lo and behold it was him, Head Director Jeon.

“Y/n.” Jungkook seemed nervous as he nodded over at you.

You bowed. “Hope you enjoyed my presentation Director Jeon…” You quickly panicked, worried this conversation was going to be about that.

“Yes, you did great— you always do…” He smiled at you. You were a sucker for compliments, but in the moment, it completely went over your head.

“No, actually this is about tomorrow. Usually, I’d do this with Director Son, but since he’s not here, I was hoping you’d be able to fill in for him.” He seemed even more nervous.

“That’s my job.” You put it matter-of-factly.

“Right, yeah, you’re right.” He chuckled nervously. “Um, tomorrow, as you know, things are pretty crazy these days… I have all these documents to go over for the budget presentation we have coming up for next quarter. Would you be available to stay late with me and go through all the details?”

Oh?

“Of course.” You said not putting much thought into it. You stay late most days anyway.

For some reason, he seemed to tense up even more.

“Good… um… make sure to get a good night's rest; tomorrow might be a long day.” He pointed out.

“Hmm?”

He already knew what you were going to ask. “This could be an all-night thing… sorry to put you in this position— Director Son and I—“

“It’s fine sir. I’ll be there.” You said through gritted teeth, trying your best to force a smile. You didn’t want to be here all night; you were already exhausted as it is and now there was no chance you could agree to any of Solmi’s Halloween plans.

The holiday was tomorrow, and she had wanted to whisk you and Taehyung away to Itaewon for a night full of bar hopping to all the places that were hosting parties in the area. She had pleaded for you to consider it even though you already told her how busy you were. You had honestly been thinking about it, it could have been a night out to de-stress from all that was on your plate, but there goes that opportunity. At least if you didn’t go, you could have been home catching up on sleep, relaxing, anything really but be here. And with Jeon Jungkook?

You regretted saying yes so fast.

“Ok— great… um, again, that was a great presentation. See you tomorrow.” It was an awkward goodbye, but that’s how most of your conversations went, so you didn’t dwell on it.

As the door closed behind him, you took a second to breathe, and enjoy the silence of the meeting room. In that peace, you realized a detail your brain completely skipped over.

You were working overtime with Jungkook. You were going to be alone… together.

Suddenly you felt yourself getting a little nervous.

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 5 months ago

Text

My Place or Yours? [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Reader doesn't like weddings, kissing.

Summary: You're being tortured at a wedding, but there is a man there who saves your evening.

Words: 1,550

A/N: This is written for the Summer Lovin' challenge by @pedgito, who also made the moodboard. I picked the theme 'wedding', which was a weird choice for me because I really hate weddings, but I got Joel to help me get through it. Enjoy!

”I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Had those magic words only been the end of your misery, this day would have been easy-peasy. But no, you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily. It was only the beginning of an evening filled with awkward speeches, parental tears, and drunk best men giving dubious toasts.

You just don’t do weddings well. Anyone you ever talked to would tell you that it’s because you’ve been burned, because you’re single, ”once you find Mr Right you’ll start to plan your own wedding!”, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe that’s true, but with your disposition, it doesn’t seem likely that you’ll ever understand the point of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for one single day during which both your parents get to watch you make out after a minister has sprinkled some magic words over the two of you. It’s just not in your nature. You never dreamed about a fairytale wedding when you were little, and you thought your friends would wise up when you got older, but no. As soon as the question was popped, they all reverted back to their childhood selves, and began planning as if for the event of the millennia.

You’ve been to three weddings these last few years, and it doesn’t get any easier. It’s embarrassing, lavish, awkward, and weird. And as always, you’re there without a partner, and must sit there with a fake smile plastered on your face, with no one to bitch to. At least you’re not the only single one at this wedding; that’s happened before, and even if you didn’t mind being single, you were definitely feeling blue when you got home that night.

At least dinner is good. This particular bride isn’t following any fad diets that she’s forcing on everybody, so you’re enjoying a really delicious three course meal. Still, what would a wedding dinner be without interruptions in the form of long, meandering speeches? You are forced to put down your cutlery one too many times, and by the time you’re finishing your delicious medium rare steak, it’s already cold. Chasing leftover sauce with a piece of bread, you nod encouragingly at the waiter asking you if you want more wine. You want to ask them to leave the bottle, but they probably wouldn’t find it funny.

Too tired to make polite conversation, you start to wait for the unofficial break between main course and dessert, when people get up to stretch their legs. It’s your opportunity to get away for a bit. You even have a modus operandi for it: you bum a cigarette from one of the smokers even though you’ve never smoked, go to the side, and pretend to smoke it for as long as you can. If the venue is nice, you then walk around and inspect it. This wedding offers a lot in that aspect: it’s a big house, almost a mansion, in the countryside, with a park and lots of smaller, old buildings on the premises. Perfect for hiding, and then you can just return back to the dining-hall late and blame getting lost.

When the break finally is announced, you let the smokers leave first. By the time they're greedily sucking on their cigarettes, you show up and ask for one. Cigarette in hand, and nod in agreement with the light conversation: yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, yes, the dinner is delicious, yes, the bride is so pretty and the groom so handsome. Eventually, you make a break for it, saying something about wanting to see the premises. So you walk away, flicking away the pillar of ash on your unsmoked cigarette.

The din of the house grows distant as you walk across the yard, shamelessly dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your foot before heading for the garden, quickly as if to escape the disgusting smoke. Once you reach the first, fragrant rose bushes, you start to relax. You find a bench and sink down on it with a relieved sigh. The light breeze smells of oleander, the birds are chirping, and it's pleasantly warm. Perfect.

You dig into your evening bag and check your phone. No messages, of course: most of your friends are at the wedding. Putting the phone away to instead enjoy the garden, you remain seated for a little longer than you know is considered polite. When you finally rise to go back, you notice someone approaching you. A man, around your age, a friend of the groom's, you think, but you've never talked to him.

"Hi," he calls out. "You okay?"

"Sure," you nod easily, "I just needed some air."

"A lot calmer here, isn't it?" He's standing in front of you now, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Very handsome, but you're feeling defensive, and when your answer delays a little too long, he clears his throat.

"Sorry. Hi." He extends his right hand. "Joel. I'm a friend of Mark's."

You take his hand and give him your name. He doesn't let go immediately after shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you." That smile. Goddammit, that's a charming smile. When his warm hand finally unclasps yours, you want to reach for it again.

"Can I help you, Joel?" you ask instead, trying to sound unperturbed.

"I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugs lightly, passing a hand over his hair. A curl bounces back to gently lick his forehead.

"You just looked like you weren't maybe having such a good time."

Well, shit. You thought you had been keeping a straight face, but clearly you had failed. Your gaze flickers, and you clear your throat.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not good at weddings.”

He chuckles low, but not maliciously.

“It shows.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a straight face for all these hours,” you snap, a little harsher than intended. Joel holds his hand to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. We better get back before they send out a search party.”

“Hey, lemme make it up to you. Can I have the first dance with you?”

Frowning, you eye him, expecting him to be joking. But his gaze is open and honest.

“Sure,” you eventually smile. “Find me when the dancing starts.”

And so it is that after dessert and another couple of meandering speeches, after the bride and groom have danced their first dance, Joel finds you in the crowd. He leads you to the dancefloor with a steady hand, and when he puts his arm around your waist, you don’t mind that his hand comes to a rest a little lower than expected. He keeps eye contact, but not in a creepy way as he makes small talk, asking you about your life more than he talks about his own. He seems genuinely interested in you, and that makes your head swim more than the alcohol.

When the music changes to something more energetic, you pull him to the side.

“Not my cup of tea,” you explain, and he nods, seemingly happy with being off the dancefloor as people begin to shake their asses.

“A drink?”

“Sure.”

He takes you to the bar and you both get drinks. The bride and her bridesmaids are cheering loudly on the dancefloor, and the noise is beginning to wear you down.

“Let’s go out?” you suggest to Joel, who nods.

There are some people scattered around the yard, but the garden is empty. The smell of roses is even stronger now when the hour is late, and you notice that you’re actually enjoying yourself. Joel is so easy to talk to, you’re comfortable in his company, and he makes you laugh.

“Hey,” you finally say. “Thanks for not being weird about me not liking weddings.”

“Why would I be weird about it?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because everybody loves weddings, and I just can’t,” you shrug, but with a hint of desperation in your voice. “And if you don’t like them, then you’re just bitter and probably in need of the right person to have your own wedding with.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sips his drink.

“I know I can keep a secret,” he starts, his voice low, “but can you?”

“I can.”

“I don’t like weddings, either.”

You stare at him for a moment before slapping his arm.

“You could’ve told me earlier!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Asshole!” you blurt out, but can’t say more, because Joel’s lips are on yours, and you drop your glass on the gravel where it shatters, splashing liquor over your feet. And you don’t give a single goddamn. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you kiss him back, tasting the whiskey on him, a peppery twang from the steak he had earlier, the bristles on his face scratching your skin.

When you finally have to step back to take a breather, he licks his lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“Not too soon?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just perfect.”

He grins. “How soon d’you think it would be polite to leave?”

“I don’t care, we’ve suffered enough. My place or yours?”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #my fic

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yanderecrazysie · 1 year ago

Note

Can I please request for yandere todoroki who at first was very cold and distant to you because he was unhappy with you and his quirk marriage courtesy of Endeavor. The reader tries to get along with him even making him cold soba and bringing it to him during his patrols. But todoroki remains stubbornly coldly ignoring the reader. One day the reader finally has enough and decides to just destroy the quirk marriage contract and leave for the countryside leaving everyone including Todoroki behind. Todoroki then starts to slowly fall for the reader now missing how the reader took care of him and cooked his favorite meals, he also starts to view The reader in as their own person without being clouded by his judgment. Todoroki then turns yandere out of shear yearning for you, he has recognized his mistakes and wants to make things right no matter the consequences, he will have you back and continue on with the marriage.

-Thank you for reading my request. I really love your writing especially the yandere cheater ones, they’re my favorite.

Thank you! And I’ll be glad to write this! ^-^

Title: Is It a Crime

Pairings: Todoroki Shoto x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: Shoto isn’t fond of the quirk marriage his dad has arranged. At least, he didn’t think so at first.

Part 2: here

“Is it a crime

That I still want you?

And I want you to want me too

My love is wider, wider than Victoria Lake

My love is taller, taller than the Empire State

It dives, it jumps, and it ripples like the deepest ocean

I can't give you more than that, surely, you want me back”

-from “Is It a Crime” by Sade

“Cold soba, just how you like it,” you try your best to smile warmly, but the glare he sends you is as cold as the dish you try handing to him.

“I’m not hungry.”

Your smile falters a little, you had hoped that your cooking would get through to him. Wasn’t the fastest way to a man’s heart through his stomach?

Shoto resumes scrolling on his phone, indifferent to the sad look you give him. Your heart gives a painful tug in your chest- what were you supposed to do to get him to like you?

It wasn’t like you particularly wanted in this marriage either.

Your parents had left the final choice up to you, claiming that they’d be fine without the money, when you knew it was the opposite. They were too elderly to work and you couldn’t get a second job while in college to support them.

Endeavor had swooped in, offering to support your parents as long as you were married to Shoto. Evidently, he was drawn in by your powerful healing quirk, and could picture strong grandchildren that could use ice, fire, and heal themselves.

In order to give you and your parents security, you entered into the agreement, assuming Endeavor’s son was okay with the contract.

You were wrong.

Shoto seemed to hate you more and more with each passing day. He’d made it clear from day one what he thought of your marriage.

“I want nothing to do with the marriage, nor you. I will never love nor care for you like a husband should. Give up and go home.”

You were determined to continue the forced relationship, not willing to easily give up the life your parents would be supported by. Yet, no progress was made towards wedding plans nor any discussion of life after marriage.

Endeavor wasn’t pushy about when a wedding should be set, telling you that Shoto was “needlessly stubborn about things”. But you’d begun to worry that maybe he would never come around to the idea of loving you.

And, really, how could you expect that of him? It wasn’t fair to suddenly come into someone’s life and wait for them to love you like a husband loves his wife.

You retreated to the kitchen to deal with your thoughts, putting the soba in the refrigerator in case Shoto got hungry. You thought over what you should do, a little bored with the housewife position you’d been put in. Shoto was a pro hero, Endeavor one as well- you had no reason to even continue college. The two of them each had enough money right now to live off of three times over.

You were ready to hang on as long as it took.

Until you overheard Shoto on the phone.

“She’s annoying. Not my type at all. I could never love anyone like her, even without this quirk marriage nonsense my father is forcing on me.”

You felt tears pricking your eyes. He’d never, ever like you, would he? This was just a waste of time, until Endeavor either forced you into a wedding that made Shoto despise you even more, or canceled your contract for you.

You went straight to the number one hero himself, heart pounding in your chest as you approached his office and knocked quietly on the door. A moment later, you stood before him, those tears from earlier finally falling.

“Shoto will never love me. I think it’d be best for both of us if we… just… went our separate ways.” Your voice quavered, and your eyes closed tightly for the finish.

Endeavor sat back in his chair, obviously surprised, “But your parents-”

“I can quit college and get a second job.”

Endeavor blinked and, after an eternity, pressed on, “My son is stubborn, he has rebelled against me before. You should not take it personally.”

You considered his words. Perhaps Shoto didn’t hate you, just the arranged marriage. But then you remembered his words over the phone and started to cry all over again.

“No… no. I’m sure. I want to cancel the marriage. I’m sorry.”

Endeavor nodded, “I understand.”

Shoto woke up in a bad mood and it only worsened when he didn’t see you in the kitchen, making him breakfast. You always made him breakfast, so why not today? Were you sick?

He checked the fridge and found the cold soba from yesterday. Not exactly a proper breakfast, but it would do.

Sour expression on his face, he wondered why you weren’t awake, bustling around like a happy tornado, cleaning every surface like you had a grudge against it. Maybe you really were sick. He spooned soba into his mouth, debating whether or not to check on you.

Against his better judgment, he walked over to your room and knocked sharply on it. He gave an exasperated sigh when there was no response and opened the door, only to find… nothing. No clothes, no knick knacks, nothing that made the room uniquely you, like it had once been.

His heart sank in his chest and he leaned against the door, head hanging down as his thoughts raced. Wasn’t he supposed to be happy? Thrilled, even? This meant that the quirk marriage was over, right?

So why did he feel crushed?

Shoto stormed into his father’s office without knocking. “Where is she?”

Endeavor looked up from his paperwork, surprised. “Gone. The marriage is off.”

The younger man left, a hole deep in his heart where you had once been. He hadn’t realized it, so focused on hating you, but he couldn’t live without you. He felt like he was panicking, his breath was coming fast and heavy, his mind clouded with thoughts of you.

He knew where you lived, he’d been there once before to meet you. It wasn’t a far walk, and he’d be running.

He could be there in ten minutes. He was positive he could convince you to sign the contract again.

It was time to bring his bride back home.

#yandere #yandere one shot #yandere x reader #one shot #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere shoto #todoroki shoto

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lainsshop · 10 months ago

Text

Reader being Lucifer’s and Adam’s ex partner while dating Alastor. How will that work?

Well- you were the second soul to exist, you were similar to Lilith, you both refused Adam’s demands but instead of you running away from the Garden, you stayed.

You wanted to explored and stuff, and still obeyed God until you met Lucifer and Lilith, they influenced you, they wanted to offered you freedom and you wouldn’t be obeying no ones rules, you honestly wanted that but you would’ve felt guilty afterwards for disobeying but at the end you did.. you ate the forbidden fruit.

Luckily, nothing happened until they found out about Eve. She ate it too and that lead the higher ups to know about your actions, you didn’t regret it tho since you spend time with Lucifer and Lilith more than Eve so you got casted out with those two from Heaven.

And you were in Hell with them until you decided to take your own path and leave them behind. That’s when you met Alastor, you two don’t know how or how it went but eventually you got together and yes, it was a slowburn trope.

Extra:

Adam: You?! Judging me?! You’re the most hated being in all of creation!

Lucifer: Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer or the last two~ *Chika Chika Bow Bow*

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 3 months ago

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Hardheaded

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~800

Summary: Cooking lessons

A/N: 🤦🏻‍♀️

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, blood

Although you and your wife worked well together in many ways, cooking wasn’t always one of them.

In the kitchen, Wanda seemed to float between tasks, juggling them all seamlessly. Watching her cook was similar to watching someone dance. Every motion was so fluid and well timed that you often wondered how much planning went into each meal. How much time did Wanda spend thinking about what she was going to prepare?

Then there was you. When you cooked there was a 50/50 chance that you had just decided that you were going to cook because of a particular craving. Your half-baked ideas meant that you went back and forth a lot between the fridge and the cupboards to figure out what you were doing. The counters were often covered with anything that you thought you wanted to put into whatever you were making, and there was always the random item or two that you weren’t using, but still wanted out for some reason. You couldn’t even say that you just wanted to snack on it. You just wanted to have it out.

So needless to say, when you and Wanda cooked together, you usually let your wife lead. If this didn’t happen, you both honestly ended up cooking together, but separately. You’d run into each other which sometimes led to spills and cursing. For this reason, you usually deferred to Wanda when it came to the kitchen.

Tonight though, the kitchen is yours and you’re cooking while drinking. You call it cooking with booze, but Wanda has simply dubbed it foolish because every time you do it, something ends up getting messed up. You’ll skip a step in whatever you’re doing, or you’ll spill and have to start over. Tonight though, you are drunk enough that you run face first into the open cabinet that you hadn’t bothered to close.

“Shit!”

Wanda’s sitting on the couch reading when she hears you curse loudly from the kitchen. She turns around to see what you happened to spill this time, but when she sees blood running down your face. She jumps to her feet.

“Y/n! What happened?”

You are bleeding into your mixing bowl which is honestly more upsetting to you than the fact that you may have just broken your nose. You curse under your breath again before turning to hopefully find something to clean up your mess. You see through your sightly blurry vision that Wanda’s now in the kitchen shooting you a worried look.

You shake your head and try to wave her off, but she only frowns at you before reaching for a towel to clean you up.

“It’s fine. I’m fine I just ran into a door.”

Wanda nearly rolls her eyes but seeing blood practically gush from your nose has her more concerned than irritated at the moment. After she gets you to hold the towel against your nose to staunch the bleeding, she runs to the freezer to grab an ice pack for you. You simply shoot your food a forlorn look because you’re certain that you won’t be able to finish what you started. Maybe cooking with booze wasn’t a great idea after all.

“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding all over the place. Here, come sit down.”

You think about protesting, but you are a little dizzy, and your face is throbbing, so you allow Wanda to lead you to the seats at the counter. You sigh as you sink into one of them and hold your head back with a groan. You hate the taste of blood, and you grimace before you take a deep breath. You nearly jump out of your seat when something cold is pressed into your hand, and your eyes fly open in surprise.

“Here, this will help.”

You offer her a smile before taking the ice pack. “Thank you.”

Wanda waits until you get situated before taking the now bloody towel from you. She watches you lean back again and sigh as you hold the ice to your nose. One of your eyes is closed while the other is squinted nearly shut. That said, you don’t need to be able to see her to know what Wanda is about to say. Her sigh says it all. You’d cringe in anticipation if you could spare the energy.

“It might be a good idea to retire cooking with booze, Y/n.”

You think about arguing for only a few seconds. However, the mere fact that you’re drunk and holding ice to your severely bruised if not broken nose should be enough to support Wanda’s argument. In fact, it definitely is enough and you sigh in defeat before you reach out for your wife with your clean hand. Well it might have some chocolate on it, but no blood at least. You smile when you feel her hand slide into yours, and you squeeze it gently before nodding in agreement.

“Okay. You’re right. I admit defeat.”

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #silver springs drabble #silver springs #mob au #drink and cook responsibly 🍸

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velieditss · 4 months ago

Text

Forbidden Desires

Pairing: Davos Blackwood x Bracken!reader

Summary: He hates you, he really does, but no more than you.

An: Bombastic side eye, criminal offensive side eye👀

This is the second chapter, you can check the first one here: Ch1

Davos stood by the window of his room, watching the carriage as it slowly made its way along the winding path. His forehead and hair were beaded with sweat; the pain coursing through his body numbed even the wound he still bore. The night before, he had been informed that one of the Brackens had stopped at a nearby inn, just a few hours away.

The message, distorted after passing through several hands before reaching him, did not specify which of the Brackens was on the way. Davos hoped it was one of the brothers, ready to settle the matter, but he doubted it. King Viserys's envoy had assured him that the Brackens would follow the king's "suggestion." Suggestion!

The anger still burned within him over how that "suggestion" had been conveyed and the blatant threats that accompanied it. Yet, the king’s envoy seemed indifferent, as if he cared little how his words were received or the chaos they might unleash; he was simply doing his duty.

Beside him, Alysanne was not watching the carriage but observing Davos with a furrowed brow. She was the only one in the family who had not received the news with pessimism; to her, it was a well-deserved punishment for what they had brought upon innocent people. In short, a fate worse than death: having a Bracken for a wife.

“You need to get back to bed,” Alysanne said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Stop giving me orders just because you think I’m weak. Did you send that letter to our father? I’d prefer he learns of the king’s abominable demand from me, not through rumors, in case this goes public.”

“Of course, it was the first thing I did when our guest left,” Alysanne replied with the confidence of someone who always fulfills their duties.

Davos was sure that, along with the letter, his sister had sent a detailed account of what had happened, not omitting a single detail that could further tarnish his image before their father.

Benjicot, despite his young age, had the spirit of a warrior and did not fear the Brackens; in fact, he had played a key role in the three duels that took place. But he was too young to marry, and Alysanne... Davos would rather sacrifice himself than allow his sister to suffer such a vile fate.

At least, if the Bracken girl was under their roof, they could keep an eye on her and maintain some advantage. But if Alysanne were the one betrothed, they couldn’t protect her in that madhouse.

For all these reasons, and because they would lose half of their fortune if they disobeyed, Davos had not offered any of his siblings to comply with the king’s order.

Alysanne shook her head in exasperation.

“I offer good advice, not orders. It wouldn’t hurt you to listen to me once in a while. But don’t count on me to drag you back to bed if you collapse. I’ll get the servants to do it.”

“I’m not going to die, and I’m not so weak that I can’t throw you out of my room,” Davos retorted with a hint of irritation.

“Tell that to the Bracken girl. I’m sure she’s spent half the week praying for your death,” Alysanne replied, pointing at the tiny carriage in the distance. “And yes, you are weak. You’re sweating like a horse and can barely put on your trousers…”

Davos turned his back and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Alysanne used to keep him on his toes, both verbally and physically, and he used to be grateful for it, but not now, not since he had returned home with that cursed wound. The previous one had been a mere scratch; this one, however, worsened every day.

He didn’t need a grand maester to tell him; he knew the wound wasn’t healing as it should. He had regained some strength after losing a lot of blood, only to be struck down by fever again.

Returning home had been foolish; he should have stayed near where he was injured to receive treatment, but he didn’t want word to spread that Raylon had almost ended his life. He would rather die than give a Bracken that satisfaction. And it could still happen; he felt half-dead, though more from the damn fever that wouldn’t break.

The anger didn’t help either: having to face the king’s threat and the enemy at his door while in this condition only fueled his rage.

“Put her in one of the towers when she arrives,” he told his sister in a tense voice. “Until I decide what to do with her.”

Alysanne crossed her arms, annoyed by his tone, as if she were a mere servant rather than the sister who had raised him like a son.

“The order you received was to marry her,” Alysanne pointed out dryly.

“I won’t do it,” Davos replied firmly.

“So you’ll reject her?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “I warn you, you’ll be sacrificing your share of the fortune, and you’d better not touch mine.”

Davos shook his head.

“I won’t sacrifice anything, because it won’t be necessary. She’ll hurry back home, and the Brackens will face the consequences when she does.”

“And how do you plan to make her leave?”

“There are ways to scare off women like her,” Davos responded, giving her a grim look.

Alysanne raised an eyebrow again, skeptical.

“Very well, but do I need to remind you we only have one remotely habitable tower?”

“Well, she won’t have trouble finding it, will she?” Davos replied, his tone as dry as Alysanne’s.

Alysanne was about to leave the room but stopped and, in a serious tone, warned him:

“You’re not at war with that girl; you’re at war with her brothers. Mistreating her will do no good.”

“She’s a Bracken. They’re all the same, even if I’ve never seen her. And she serves an important purpose: she’ll make Raylon and Olyver Bracken lose their lands and fortune.”

A spark lit up Alysanne’s eyes.

“I’m glad to see you’re not as crazy as you seem. Sorry, I mean that you’re acting with some logic.”

“This isn’t a good time to test my patience, Aly,” Davos warned her. “I need my riding clothes. I won’t be home when the enemy knocks on the door.”

“The maester said you should stay in bed,” Alysanne said, sighing in frustration.

“I’ll rest once I’ve calmed my anger with a ride.”

“You’ll need the maester if you insist on riding! For the old gods’ sake, Davos, be reasonable. Your stitches will tear, and your horse won’t like the smell of blood.”

“There are many things my horse doesn’t like, including you. How he’ll react to the blood remains to be seen; and now, enough with the bad omens. Don’t try to stop me, just this once.”

“That’s what you told me a week ago, and now the old gods are sending you a Bracken as a wife,” Alysanne retorted, her frustration spilling over before Davos could protest.

“I’ll fetch the maester and then deal with your ‘bride.’”

Davos slowly made his way to his dressing room.

“She won’t be my bride,” he muttered disdainfully.

Alysanne headed for the door and, without turning back, promised:

“I’ll have her placed in the least comfortable room we have.”

“In the tower,” Davos insisted.

“Fine. But it doesn’t have a bed.”

“Then let her sleep on the damned floor!” Davos exclaimed.

With that order, the door slammed shut.

𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎ 𖣂︎

The imposing three-story manor had a façade clad in dark grey stone, almost black, though it might have been the moss or ivy covering it that contributed to its somber appearance. From a distance, it was difficult to make out the details. Two towers rose majestically at the corners of the large rectangular building, giving it the air of an ancient, fortified castle. In front of each tower stood a massive tree, both in full bloom, whose branches obscured the rest of the estate, plunging it into an even deeper mystery.

“It looks like a sad, gloomy, and intimidating place,” you thought with a shiver.

The path to the house was lined with trees, though they were arranged irregularly, as if planted without a precise design. Ivy climbed the dark grey exterior walls, but it had been meticulously trimmed in front of the front windows, leaving the interior visible without obstructions. Above the main entrance, you could see a large, circular stained-glass window, though from the outside you couldn’t discern if the glass formed any image. On either side of the double doors were well-trimmed bushes, giving an impression of order that contrasted with the melancholy of the place. Eavesdropping under the windows wouldn’t be easy; they were too high.

One of your servants helped you down from the carriage. You smoothed your bronze-colored pelisse, which reached your knees, and glanced down to make sure the hem of your dress was in place, barely covering your shoes. You decided against wearing the hat in your hand, and at that moment, the sun peeked timidly through the clouds. «Is that a good omen?» you wondered. But perhaps not; it simply meant that, at least for now, it wasn’t raining.

“They should have seen or heard us arrive and would be out here to receive us. Their staff leaves much to be desired if we have to knock on the door,” you murmured, looking around with a mix of irritation and unease.

«Could we have the wrong house?» you thought with a knot in your stomach.

«Hopefully...»

The thought was almost a prayer. It was also possible that this was a subtle way of letting you know you weren’t welcome, but you chose not to say it aloud. You’d had a knot in your stomach for days, but at that moment, the sensation intensified. You feared you might vomit right there; the servant who had to clean it up would despise you, and that wouldn’t be a good way to start, in case you were allowed into the house. The servants waited for the order to unload your trunks, but you were paralyzed, as if anxiety had completely trapped you.

Your destination was in sight, so close you could almost touch it. Within an hour, you would meet your future husband, if he was even there. The emissary had assumed he was, but what if Davos Blackwood wasn’t home? What if he hadn’t even been informed of the marriage? That could mean a postponement! And that, far from worrying you, seemed perfect. Perhaps you would meet some Blackwood’s... or perhaps not. Maybe Lord Blackwood had been warned of what would be demanded of his son and had decided to remain inaccessible indefinitely, thus avoiding the news. Or maybe you’d love living there, as long as Davos didn’t show up, leaving the house to you alone. Or, in the most delirious of dreams, all the Blackwood’s would already be dead, and you could live happily in their home without anyone bothering you.

Ten minutes passed, maybe more. It seemed no one was home that day. Or maybe the Blackwood’s didn’t have servants... Excuses, more excuses. You knew well they were an eminent and wealthy family. This was undoubtedly a rejection. If they didn’t open the door in the next few minutes, you’d be back at that inn, celebrating your victory and freedom. You’d tell everyone you had survived the worst of fates, and that the gods had always been on your side. But if things didn’t go well... well, then the vision of the rock, the cliff, and the sea returned to you. Life wasn’t that good if you thought about it carefully.

You straightened your shoulders and gestured to your maid to knock on the door. She advanced uncertainly and raised her fist, almost losing her balance when one of the doors suddenly opened, leaving her about to punch the air. You shot a furious glance at the man standing in the doorway and remained silent. One look was enough to know that, for your good (or bad) luck, the Blackwood’s had indeed sent someone to receive you.

“My lady awaits you,” the servant said in a dry, direct tone. There was no apology, no greeting, no question. His attitude confirmed his position; you only knew he was a servant by the clothes he wore.

You glanced sideways at your maid before following the man, who seemed to share the same disdain for you as the rest of these lands and their inhabitants.

“Excuse me, why did you take so long to receive us?” you asked as you took hold of your dress’s hem, walking with your head held high to avoid showing weakness. “What was the dilemma that made you ignore us?”

“My lady wanted to ensure the rooms were clear before inviting you in,” he replied without turning around.

«Your lady?» If you remembered correctly, you had been told that Samwell Blackwood was a widower.

“Cleared of what?” you asked, confused.

“Of furious encounters.” The man spoke so low you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.

You didn’t understand anything and weren’t sure you wanted to.

When you passed between two columns flanking the vestibule, you entered a two-story hallway with a grey marble floor. Above the dark wood paneling covering the white walls hung tapestries; you observed that they were portraits of men and women, some of whom wore clothing from eras before the Conquest. You assumed they were the ancestors of the Blackwood’s.

“Will you take me to your lord?” you asked, stopping to observe each face and story depicted in the wall decorations.

“Lord Samwell is not here; I will take you to my lady, his daughter, Lady Alysanne,” he replied indifferently.

Ah, so it was the eldest Blackwood daughter who had taken charge of the house. This didn’t lessen your apprehension; on the contrary, it heightened your fear of what might happen.

The servant opened large doors and ushered you in as if you were a prisoner about to receive your sentence. The first thing your eyes caught was the silhouette of a woman with beautiful black curls, standing by a window where sunlight streamed in.

The Blackwood’s, like the Bracken’s, shared similar characteristics among them, or so you’d been told. The only thing that indicated you were in front of Lady Alysanne Blackwood was her fine clothes and the direct, unwavering gaze that scrutinized you mercilessly.

In that context, you felt like a true criminal.

You made a small curtsy, barely bowing.

“Welcome,” she said in a tone so cold and indifferent it made you feel like an insignificant insect.

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice quieter than you expected.

The silence that followed was terrible and suffocating, a space where you both observed each other, trying to decipher the other.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Alysanne finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You glanced at your maid, who looked just as uncomfortable as you did.

“Will I be able to see Lord Davos? Could you take me to him?” you asked, hoping to meet your future husband and resolve the situation as soon as possible.

“I cannot do that. When he’s ready to see you, he’ll call for you.”

“Today?” you insisted, clinging to a thread of hope.

“Perhaps not.”

You grimaced, but in reality, the fact that this would only delay the inevitable brought you some relief.

You passed several double doors that likely led to the drawing rooms and dining hall, and finally reached the grand main staircase. Some splashes of color on the white walls made you glance back toward the vestibule. The round stained-glass window above the door cast blue, red, and yellow beams of light on the walls. The window’s glass formed an image: a sable escutcheon with a dead weirwood tree.

The emblem was part of the family crest; once at the top of the staircase, Alysanne led you to the right, down a wide carpeted hallway that had doors only on one side. You understood that these rooms faced the back of the castle. Soon you turned a corner and walked down another corridor that led back to the front of the house. Some doors on either side of the hallway had been left open to let in light. It was evident that the house had numerous rooms and was more extensive than it seemed from the outside. At the end of the hallway, Alysanne stopped in front of a spiral staircase.

“Where does this lead?” you asked.

“To a barely habitable tower with no bed.”

You tensed and waited, but she didn’t move and simply stared at the dark spiral staircase for a few moments. Then, without a word, she turned and led you back down the hallway and into the other. As she passed the door at the far end, she glanced back at you and your maid and put a finger to her lips, indicating that you should remain silent; then she approached the next door, just to the right of the staircase. Alysanne entered the room and opened two windows, allowing a light, fresh breeze to enter. You followed her, feeling a sudden curiosity about the view before you. From your position, the tall hedges you had seen from afar surrounded a vast garden, whose green, well-kept lawn gleamed under the sunlight.

Winding paths crisscrossed the garden, bordered by flower beds overflowing with roses and other vibrant blossoms, an explosion of life and color that stood in stark contrast to the austerity of the house.

“You're less troublesome than I expected,” Alysanne remarked suddenly, pulling you from your reverie. “And you're pretty. If you're clever, you might just survive here.”

The tone of her words unsettled you; you couldn't tell whether they were meant as a compliment or a warning. Should you feel flattered or insulted? Alysanne's words hung in the air as you turned to look at her, searching for some clue in her expression. But her eyes remained fixed on you, scrutinizing, as if trying to decipher your deepest thoughts.

You felt her gaze like a weight, as though she were trying to unearth every one of your secrets, those you wouldn't even dare to confess.

“I’ll take the brunt of Lord Davos’ anger for not placing you where he ordered, but I’d rather not wake him just yet, so try to keep quiet,” she added coolly.

Reality struck in an instant: you weren’t placed in this part of the castle out of courtesy or jest. Alysanne had made this decision deliberately, without explanation. A shiver of dread ran through you as you realized you were much closer to Davos than you had anticipated.

“Please, I’d prefer a room farther from his, even one in that tower,” you said, trying to stay calm despite the rising panic inside you.

Alysanne smiled, and though it appeared kind, there was something in her expression that told you Lord Davos' anger didn’t concern her as much as she had implied moments earlier.

“Nonsense. Most of the rooms up here aren’t regularly cleaned unless they’re occupied by guests. This is the only vacant room that’s clean and doesn’t have a permanent ‘Do Not Use’ sign hanging on the door.”

Her response left you stunned. You had been so focused on your own anxiety that you hadn’t even noticed whether there were signs on the doors in the hallway.

“Why is Lord Davos sleeping at this time of day?” you asked, trying to mask your nerves with curiosity.

“I’d be surprised if he were,” Alysanne replied, already heading for the door. Without pausing, she added, “I’ll have your trunks brought up.”

The door closed with a swift bang, leaving you alone in the room. You had barely had time to thank her, and now you found yourself lost in unsettling thoughts. Was Davos as ill-tempered as your brothers? Should you move cautiously, making sure not to disturb his rest? A cold sweat trickled down your back as your gaze settled on a second door, barely visible in the dim light of the room.

That door connected directly to Lord Davos' room, a possibility that morphed into a series of alarming thoughts in your mind. What if the man decided to enter while you were sleeping, without warning? The idea that he might pounce on you in the middle of the night took root in your mind, filling you with growing unease.

You were trapped in a strange place, in a house you barely knew, with a man on the other side of the door who, for all you knew, could be a true monster.

Maybe it would be better to tie yourself to that rock and throw yourself into the sea…

Want more?

Part 3

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#house of the dragon #davos blackwood #davos x reader #alysanne blackwood #reader #long reads #hotd #house blackwood #house bracken #forbidden desires #velieditss #they hate each other #omg

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lucienarcheron · 9 months ago

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Spirit Meets the Bones - I

Eris and Iris. Son of a high lord, daughter of a fiend. An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be.

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

Author's Note: Today marks the three-year anniversary of when I first posted this story and what better day to start reposting than today! It means so much that people stuck around and are still excited for it to continue. I hope you enjoy how it unfolds!

biggest shoutout will go to @abruisedmuse ♥️ without you, I don't know how I'd finish this fic. ily!

Find it all here.

Eris's hands were clasped behind his back as he stood rigidly next to the female who had now become shackled to him. His bride had only repeated the words of binding in a dull, dry tone and shifted her face slightly so he’d kiss her cheek rather than her lips in front of everyone. Already, she had more nerve than he anticipated. He had only smiled.

The two now stood in their finest before his parents, the festivities of the wedding raging on behind them. It would continue to rage on when the bride and groom took their leave. It all meant nothing to either of them.

Eris stood in his suit, tailor-made, and fitted in forest green. Iris’s bridal gown of white covered every inch of her, painted against every delicate curve. Eris had only stolen glances, not looking for too long. The hatred in her eyes had become grating.

He spared Iris another side glance, aware his father was watching him, and gave his parents a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Father. You spared no costs on this wedding.”

“If only the bride and groom seemed to enjoy it as well.”

Eris offered his father another tight smile. “It all happened so fast. We’re both a bit whiplashed but I’m sure Iris loved it as much as I did,” he said and finally fully looked at his bride. “Didn’t you...wife?”

Iris automatically bowed her head towards the Lord and Lady of Autumn and turned her gaze to her now-husband. “Of course...husband. Forgive me, I am a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

Eris and Iris.

Iris and Eris.

He only looked at her with boredom.

She looked at him wanting to desperately snap his neck.

“Well, run along then. Enjoy your wedding night. Don’t embarrass me, son. Make sure to show your bride a good time.” Beron mused with a laugh and the Lady of Autumn, Lady Enya, gave Eris a pleading look as he nodded to his parents.

“Welcome to the family, Iris.” Lady Enya said softly.

Iris bowed her head in thanks and turned once more to look at her now-husband who gave her a small smirk and Eris couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t help the slight glee at how hard she was trying not to sneer back at him.

“Come along wife, it’s time for the fun part of being married,” Eris said with a coy smile and held out his arm.

But Iris only stared at it. She stared at his arm and wondered what would happen if she just...snapped it off his body. Or stabbed him. Or at least attempted either option. Her father had nearly ripped her head off when he found out about the small knife hidden beneath her dress. The sting of his smack had barely settled down before she walked into her wedding. Nonetheless...her fingernails could be sharp enough to maim.

When a moment passed and Iris still hadn’t taken his arm, Eris stepped closer to her.

“Take my fucken arm before I drag you out of here.” he hissed and Iris blinked then tilted her head towards him with a shy smile, the ever-blushing bride as she approached him and slipped her arm through his. Never mind that it was trembling slightly.

“Try dragging me out,” she said softly. “I’ll only end up dragging your bleeding body back across this hall.”

It was Eris’s turn to blink then his lips twisted into a smirk. “Is that what your eyes have been trying to tell me? We can fulfill your dirty little fantasy once we’re alone.”

Iris stood before her husband and schooled her expression so that anyone looking at her would see her gaze reverent rather than murderous. As if they didn’t know how reverent murdering someone you hated could be.

“Oh, does that mean once we’re alone, I can run a blade several times through your torso?” she said sweetly. “Because that’s exactly what I was fantasizing about.”

Eris chuckled, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. The challenge in her voice. The sternness in her hooded eyes. “Big words for a shaking gazelle in a room full of wolves,” he said softly and leaned in to kiss her temple, ever the besotted groom. “Don’t forget, you married the worst of them. I’d watch that pretty mouth if I were you.”

Iris let him pull away and let him see the shy smile on her face even as rage flashed in her eyes. Her grip tightened on his arm and she leaned into him again. “Or what?”

A chuckle slipped out before he could help himself. Bold. She was bolder than he expected. “You’ll find out once we’re behind a closed door, wife.”

He felt her body tense but paid her no mind as he nodded his acknowledgment to the people congratulating them, as he did practically drag her out of the room. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner this night would be over and he could somehow think of how to handle this female that had been shoved at him.

They walked in silence down the hall, nodding to any lingering guests before turning a corner and the path before them was empty.

“Did you lose your tongue, little gazelle? No more big words now that you don’t have an audience?” he said quietly, as the two walked down the halls of The Forest House towards their wing. A whole wing where he was to now live with his little lady. “Not going to try and run?”

She finally yanked her arm free from his and openly glared. “And go where?” she spat. “As if you wouldn’t drag me back here and humiliate me for trying.”

Eris only hummed his response and watched as she huffed then continued walking and he took the time to openly observe her in the silence. In a tense, nearly suffocating silence.

His wife.

Wife.

He mouthed the word silently to himself then frowned thinking of how, for the second time, he was forced into a union he had little say in. At least this one hadn’t fucked anyone else as far as he was aware.

It wouldn’t have mattered if she did at this point. She was now his and he was hers. There was no escape. There would be nobody else. And Eris wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this.

How was he supposed to feel about a female he knew nothing about? How, exactly was he supposed to feel when he had only found out a month before the wedding that she was to be his?

Her father, a wealthy merchant — a criminal as Eris had understood, wanted to build better ties with the High Lord of Autumn to no doubt get away with things he shouldn’t. Never mind that the male was as big of a piece of shit as his father. He had simply offered his daughter to Beron as a bride for Eris like she meant nothing to him. Wrapped her up for him like a delicious dessert to be eaten.

And delicious she was. Eris let his eyes roam her body as she stalked in front of him toward the room. She didn't even know which way they were supposed to be going and yet, the confidence in her walk of rage didn’t hold her back. Her chestnut brown hair coiled up in braids, the tiara sitting atop her head, exposing her long lovely neck.

The train of her dress trailed behind her and he only quirked his brow at the design, not as frilly as he had expected. Then again, he knew nothing about her. No one had given him the chance.

Eris stepped on the tip of the dress’s train and she startled, a small gasp escaping her lips. Turning sharply, she glared at him.

“Get off my dress.” she seethed but he only gave her a small smile.

“We’re here.” he said and watched as she froze again, color seeming to drain from her face. He pursed his lips and wondered just how badly she thought this was going to go. “Are you thinking about running now?”

This seemed to unfreeze her body and Iris blinked at him. “Just open the door.” she muttered quietly. But he could hear her heart beating. He could almost taste her fear and his lips curled in disdain.

Eris waved his hand for the door to open and with a mocking bow, he gestured for Iris to step inside. She gave him a withering look then slowly stepped into the room and Eris followed her in.

The two stood in the doorway of the suite taking in the grandness, the room a swirl of all the autumn colors in one, coming together to give it a look of a magical place of rest. Never mind that the two people required to live here wanted to do anything but be in this space. The suite was huge, decorated with a seating area in one corner, a small dining space in another, a bedroom set that included a large closet across the wall, a vanity, and —

Iris’s eyes fell on the bed that was big enough to fit six people and her fists clenched. She only gave him a look of loathing and wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to refuse even acknowledging the space.

But then Eris closed the door and locked it, and the sense of panic she had been holding back all day filled the room. He heard her swallow and as he took one step closer, Iris whirled around.

“Don’t touch me.” she snarled.

Eris paused then took a deep breath, his hands once again clasped behind his back, a sour taste in his mouth. Naturally, she was to assume the worst about him. Naturally, he might as well oblige her.

“You’re my wife now. I thought the whole point of the wedding night was for us to be touching as much as possible,” he said quietly, his signature smirk gracing his face as he moved closer to her. “Or did they not teach you that?”

Iris flushed and shot him a glare, pointing viciously. “Don’t you take that tone with me or I’ll make you regret it.”

Eris’s smile was feral at the challenge. “Claws are coming out now, are they, wife?” he said quietly and took another step closer. “I wonder if you have claws like that in bed.” He tilted his head, observing her. “Why is your dress so modest? Didn’t they tell you I like to see some skin?”

She took another step back, hating the predatory look in his gaze. “You won’t be near my dress for too long so don’t concern yourself with it.”

“Are you sure about that? I do need to fulfill my husbandly duties and take it off of you.” he said again and took the final step for them to share a breath. “Make you feel all the wonderful things a husband should make his wife feel.”

“Stop talking to me that way.” she hissed, shoving him back.

He chuckled and grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her into his chest. “I will talk to you however I see fit, especially when it makes you flush so beautifully.”

And indeed, Eris hadn’t gotten the chance to stare at her so openly until this moment and it was unfortunate how beautiful she actually was. Very unfortunate, he thought, especially when his own heart started beating wildly in his chest and he felt hers sing to the same erratic rhythm.

The world seemed to still as his fingers gripped her arm. His amber eyes found her hazel ones and both pairs of eyes widened slightly. His gaze intensified as he soaked in her features and how a few loose strands of hair had slipped to frame her face so wonderfully. Iris’s own thoughts had paused at how close his lips were to hers and the way he stood so elegantly and effortlessly towering over her.

It was truly unfortunate. Because Eris’s eyes had flickered down to her lips and back, the corner of his lips lifting. How much would she hate him if were to kiss her? Could he have one taste?

Iris flushed deeply as Eris leaned in even closer and she did the only thing she could think of to get away from him.

Eris let out a groan of pain as she kneed him in the balls and crossed to the other side of the room.

“What the fuck was that for?” he hissed, doubled over, his glare meeting the one Iris shot at him.

“I told you not to touch me. Married or not.” she hissed, taking a step back. “And based on everything I’ve heard about you, I definitely don’t want you touching me.”

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth as he straightened and took another step towards her.

A chair flew towards him then and he barely ducked in time.

“What the ever-loving fuck —”

“Stay on your side of the room.”

“I’m not going to —”

“One more step and the dagger will be next.”

Eris stared at her in confusion, at the dagger that looked so much like —

He looked down at his belt where he knew his dagger to be sheathed...except it was not.

“You were too busy trying to intimidate me to notice,” she said with a snort, and gone was the trembling gazelle that he’d seen all day, his dagger twirling her hand. “Surprise.”

Eris blinked then huffed out a noise of disbelief. “Well, wife. This is an interesting turn of events...How did you manage to steal it?”

“Most males are stupid and get easily distracted by beautiful females. If I let you believe I was weak, you automatically assumed you could dominate me and lose the upper hand,” she said simply and shrugged. “Your mistake.”

He narrowed his eyes. “From the things your father told me about you, handling weapons wasn’t on the list.”

“My father is a lying piece of shit and doesn’t know an actual thing about me.”

“He told me your passion was piano and you prefer to stay indoors because you were sensitive to the sun,” Eris stated flatly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“I do love piano but the only thing I’m sensitive to are the bruises he gifts me that people would notice if he let me out as often as I’d like.”

Eris froze. A distant roaring filled his ears as he stared at Iris. He stared and stared and when she narrowed her eyes at him, he clenched his teeth and took a breath.

“Your father beats you?” he asked quietly.

Iris shrugged and it was a shrug that he knew well. A shrug he had mastered to deflect Beron’s marks on his own body. A shrug he had mirrored from his own mother.

“My father seemed giddy at the idea that you’d be beating me too,” Iris began and sunk the dagger into the table with a loud thud, before meeting his gaze again. “But if you think that gives you permission to lay a hand on me, I will break every single one of your fingers and carve your heart out of your body. I would die trying.”

Eris stared at her. Trying to think of a response. Trying to think of all the things he’d heard about her before this moment.

“My daughter is delicate.” her father had told him. “She’s also foolish and needs guidance with a heavy hand. Don’t be afraid to put her in her place.”

There was nothing delicate about the fiery rage he saw in the female in front of him. Nothing but sharp glares and determination. Her stance alone told him she would be nothing of what he had expected.

His mother’s bruised skin flashed in his mind and Eris swallowed then met Iris’s gaze.

“I would never harm you,” he said firmly and she tilted her head, quirking a brow.

“Your reputation says otherwise.”

“My reputation is catered to a specific audience.”

“Your reputation is the reason I am willing to kill you and face death myself rather than let you turn me into the broken doll my father tried to make me.”

Eris pursed his lips at that and slipped a hand in his pocket, the other coming to brush back his hair. “It appears wife, that you and I aren’t what we seem.”

Iris crossed her arms. “So it seems, husband.”

“We wasted time not getting to know each other a month ago.” Eris scoffed with an eye roll and Iris froze. “Your father insisted you were too nervous and shy.”

“What do you mean a month?” she asked breathlessly, her hands fisting at her sides.

Eris’s blink marked his confusion. “A month. Our engagement was announced a month ago.”

Iris blinked then blinked again and Eris watched as a cascade of emotions flashed across her face.

“A week.” she gasped out. “I was told a week ago.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed and he took in her shaking hands. “A week?” he asked quietly.

Iris only stared at him and he felt his chest tighten when she started taking deep breaths. Eris opened his mouth to say something — he felt compelled to say anything — but she held up a hand.

“I will only say this once,” Iris spoke, her voice surprisingly steady. “We may be sharing a bed but we will not...go further than that.”

Eris frowned, his own hands fisted at his sides. “Alright.”

She blinked in return. “Alright?”

His expression immediately turned sour at that. “I think the expectations for tonight have been made very clear. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Iris replied, all steadiness was gone from her voice as her face fell. “I wish I had nothing to do with you.”

And with that statement, she darted into their shared bathroom and slammed it shut.

Eris remained rooted to his place and simply stared after her, at the closed door she now hid behind, his thoughts a thousand miles a minute.

He thought about their names and the silly way they matched.

He thought about the similar father figure they seemed to have and the history they seemed to share.

He thought about the small thrill he had felt when he had been within kissing range.

Eris's frown deepened at the sniffle he heard from behind the door and wondered...just how much hell would they be in for now.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x oc #smtb chapters #spirit meets the bones #acotar fanfiction #gfics

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doe-eyed-fool · 5 months ago

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Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter Ten|

It was worse than Y/n thought. Adam had enraged the princess after killing one of her friends. She went for the attack, only to be send flying back down to the hotel rooftop. Y/n watched in horror as Charlie crashed into the hotel sign, sparks flying and shocking the princess.

Had she not be as powerful as she was, the collision could have been fatal.

Adam flew down to finish her off, but Y/n couldn’t stand to watch this any longer. She flew after him, landing on the roof in front of the princess. “Adam stop this!” Y/n demanded.

“Again with this bullshit?” Adam scowls. “Get out of the way so I can finish this bitch off!”

“Can’t you see what you’re doing!?” Y/n exclaimed. “Lucifer will be furious if you continue with this! You nearly killed Charlie!”

Adam’s glare darken, he slowly approaches Y/n. “You seem to care a lot about that prick. And now you’re concerned with his daughter? Maybe you really are a traitor after all.”

Y/n takes a step back. “I am only looking out for Heaven. This event will lead to a horrible future. Not only that, it will lead to your death.” Before Y/n could put anymore distance between herself and Adam, he reached out and grabbed her by wrist, roughly yanking her towards him.

“The only reason Heaven would be in danger is because of these freaks!” Adam yells. “I’m doing everyone a favor by slaughtering them all! If you can’t see that, then you can join them!” He throws Y/n to the ground and raises his weapon to strike.

Charlie yells out in anger, stabbing Adam in his shoulder with her trident, and knocking him away from Y/n. “You’re not going to hurt anyone else! Not while I’m still standing!”

Y/n looked up at her in awe. “Charlie…” The princess really was a diamond in the rough. She barely knows Y/n and yet, she protected her.

Adam brings himself to a stand, he grins wickedly as laughs darkly. “Ok…” He says before rushing Charlie.

Charlie managed to defend herself for a while, but she was unable to keep up with Adam. He grabbed her by the throat and held her high in the air.

“Adam! Don’t!” Y/n cried.

Charlie kicked and she scratched at Adam’s wrist, but she was unable to free herself. She could feel herself slipping as Adam’s grip on her throat tightened.

"This was fun and all, but it's time to die!"

Adam’s laughter was cut short as he was suddenly delivered a swift punch to the face, and was sent flying. Charlie fell, but was quickly caught by someone.

She looked up in shock. “Dad?”

Lucifer’s harden expression soften as he looked down at his daughter. “Hey sweetie. Sorry I was late.” He carefully set her down. Lucifer’s eyes then landed on Y/n.

He hurried to her side to help her. “Y/n, are you alright?” Y/n is brought to a stand. “Y-Yes, I’m fine.” She nods. “Thank you.”

“I see you came back.” Lucifer half-smiles. Y/n laughs lightly. “Yeah. I couldn’t convince Adam to call off the extermination. As you can see…”

“That won’t be a problem for much longer.” Said Lucifer. Just then, Adam makes himself known again.

“Seriously!? How many of you am I gonna have to fight?”

Lucifer steps towards Adam, a confident look on his face. “Oh I’m the only one that matters. See, you messed with my daughter, and now, I am going to fuck you!”

Everyone fell silent upon hearing those words.

“It’s fuck you up, dad.” Charlie whispers. Lucifer glances at her. “Wait, what’d I say-” Adam launches himself at Lucifer, crashing into a near by wall. Lucifer flies upwards to avoid another hit.

“So, Adam! This is what you’ve been up to since Eden huh?” Lucifer smirks as he dodged another attack. “Gotta say, you’ve really let yourself go, bud.”

“You judging me!? You are literally the most hated being in creation!” Adam yells.

“Ha! Well, you’re first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer!” Lucifer moves two of his fingers in front of his mouth. “Or the second! Bow-chika-wow-wow!”

“Fucking asshole!!”

Y/n blinked. ‘Really? I knew Lucifer had tempted Eve to eat that apple but…is that is how he tempted her!?’ She thought in shock.

Y/n tore her attention away from the fight as a terrible feeling came on. She looks to Charlie then back to the fight. Adam threw Lucifer aside and readied another attack.

Y/n’s eyes went wide. “Charlie! Look o-”

She couldn’t get her words out as a giant blast shot through the middle of the hotel. Charlie cried out as she was sent plummeting down.

“Charlie!” Y/n gasps. She runs forward before flying down as fast as she could to catch her. Y/n reached her hand out and grabbed Charlie’s, and pulled her into an embrace. Y/n quickly flew back up, narrowly avoiding falling debris as she ascended.

Y/n was almost made it out, but suddenly, a falling rock struck her in her left wing. A sickening crunch could be heard, Y/n cried in pain. Unable to flap her wings properly, she and Charlie were sent falling again.

Every attempt to flap her wings was met with a new wave of pain. Y/n shut her eyes tightly, she and Charlie yelled as they both plummeted.

However, they would not meet the ground as Lucifer swooped in and caught them both. He flew back to safety, above the now destroyed hotel.

“Are you two ok?” Lucifer asks in a panic. “I’m fine, but Y/n…” Charlie winces as she notices Y/n’s injured wing. Blood was spilling from the nasty split in the joint.

“I-I’ll be fine.” Y/n hisses slightly. "Are you alright, Charlie?" With a guilty expression, Charlie nods.

Lucifer sets Y/n down carefully, her wing hung limp behind her. Y/n looks on at the now destroyed hotel. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for Charlie. She’s worked so hard for this, and in an instant, it was all gone.

Y/n was alerted by Charlie, she looked over to see Adam rushing towards them to attack. Charlie growls before reeling her arm back, her hand turning into a giant claw, that blocked Adam’s attack.

“What the fuck!?” Adam exclaimed. Lucifer glared at him before grabbing Adam and throwing him away from the two. Adam yelled as he was sent crashing down.

Lucifer, in his demonic form, growled as he hovered above the near defeated Adam. “You come at me, and my daughter!? Then you dare put Y/n in harms way! Don’t forget!” Lucifer flew down and delivered blow after blow to Adam’s face.

“You’re in my house, bitch!” Lucifer cackles before raising his arms above his head, flames engulfing his hands. He yells as he goes to finish Adam off. However, he was stopped by Charlie. "Dad, wait!" Lucifer looks to Charlie, confused.

“He’s had enough…”

Lucifer turns his attention back to Adam, who was broken and beaten down. “Heh. Alright.” Lucifer backs off of him. “How does mercy taste, you little bitch?”

To say Y/n was in shock was an understatement. She’s never seen Lucifer so furious before. And if Charlie didn’t stop him, he would have certainly killed Adam.

Wait.

Why wasn’t Adam dead? He was suppose to die in this battle. Had the future been altered?

Lucifer joined Y/n side. “Are you ok?” He asks. Y/n blinks, wordlessly as she gazes at Lucifer’s form. She doesn’t think she’ll get use to seeing him like this. But it wasn’t bad. She didn’t fear him like this, that’s for sure.

He was still Lucifer.

Y/n nods. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. Thank you for saving me back there.” Lucifer smiles. “No problem.” His smile falters as he looks at her wing. He raised his hand but paused.

“Can I?”

Y/n looked confused, but allows him to do what he wanted anyway. Lucifer gently placed his hand over the joint, Y/n winces. Lucifer quickly apologizes, then Y/n felt a gentle warmth blooming in her wing.

After a few seconds, Lucifer moved his hand away. Y/n looked down at her wing, which was completely healed over, as if nothing happened in the first place. She gave it a few flaps to test it.

Y/n smiles brightly. “You healed it!” Lucifer chuckles. “Yeah.”

Y/n hugged him tightly. “Thank you! Man it would have been awful if I had to go back to heaven with my wing injured like that! I wouldn’t know how to explain myself.”

Lucifer hugs her back. “That would be tricky.”

“Soooo...Did you really seduce Eve?” Y/n asks with a chuckle. Lucifer’s face heats up slightly. “Uh…W-well-”

“No! No, you don’t get to end this!” Adam yells as he crawls out of the pit he landed it. “I’m fucking Adam, I am the fucking man! And you’re just a clown or something!”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Adam’s pitiful tantrum. So was everyone else, including Y/n.

“You all should be worshipping me! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers!” His rant was swiftly cut short as he cried with pain.

“Hey uh, you got something sticking out of your uh…your thing there.” Lucifer mutters pointing at the protrusion. Adam looks down, a sharp blade stabbed through his gut. He then fell to the ground, and on his back was a small cyclopes demon.

“Nifty!?” Charlie exclaims.

So called, Nifty, laughed manically as she continued to stab Adam over and over again. Shouting, “Stab! Stab!” as she did so.

Y/n turned away, not wanting to see the gruesome display. She then heard Lute’s anguished screams. She rushed to Adam’s side. “Adam! Stay with me sir! Adam!!” She cried.

It turns out, the future has not been altered at all. Adam truly was doomed to die here. Y/n didn’t wish death upon him, and a part of her wished she could have done something more to prevent this.

She couldn’t imagine the uproar this will cause when she returns to Heaven…

“It’s over.” Charlie says, glaring down at Lute. Lute looks up at Lucifer, who towered over her.

“Take your little friends, and go home!!” Lucifer then smiles snuggly. “Please.”

Lute picks up Adam’s halo, she then looks to Y/n with a fierce glare. Y/n didn’t miss it, she looked away from Lute.

“All exorcist angels, fall back!” Lute demands as she flies up into the air, the other angels following after into the Heaven portal.

Lucifer turns back to everyone with an awkward grin. “Sooo…Who’s up for pancakes?” The tiny blood soaked cyclopes raised her hand. She would have looked cute, if not for being covered in Adam’s blood. Speaking of…

Y/n glances over at his corpse, then sighs. She could only imagine what Lute would have to say to her when she got back. She knew it couldn’t have been anything good.

She did feel bad for Lute. Those two were close, and to be torn apart so suddenly like that…

Y/n looked back over to the others. Charlie was visibly upset, tears brimming in her eyes. The hotel she worked so hard for, destroyed. But not only that. One of her dear friends had been killed.

Lucifer was at her side, trying to comfort her. Even suggesting they could rebuild the hotel, bigger and better than before. It was a sweet display, Y/n smiled.

And to think, she ever doubted Lucifer. Of course he wasn’t some monster. He might have been trapped in Hell, but clearly, it has not tainted his heart. It gave Y/n great relief to know that.

She just wished she didn’t have to say goodbye soon…

Tags-

@bloody-delusion-expert

@simbalioness

@annybah

@alientee

@yourmom132

@voxrei

@hotbabe1999

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer magne

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f4ll-for-you · 1 year ago

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Fade Into You | Rafe Cameron

Rafe x Reader Series Part 1

masterlist

mentions of drug abuse, parent death, addiction, hospitals

You’d spent over a week surrounded by the same four walls. Your pillow was constantly tear-stained and your heart felt like it would never put itself back together.

As a child, you never expected to live a life without a parent, without a mother.

It had been so sudden. She wasn’t well and, within hours, you were in the hospital, being told your mother was gone.

You felt sick, like the world was crashing down on top of you, and that feeling hadn’t stopped for eight days.

Your dad had come to see you once or twice, looking just as bad as you felt. It only took one look into your eyes before he’d make an excuse to leave; he was unable to look at his daughter, a perfect replica of his wife. When he shipped you off to North Carolina, you assumed that was the reason he couldn’t even stand to have you around anymore.

Life had gone from perfect to awful in the space of a month and you hated every second of it. Secretly, you hoped that a change of scenery would help you forget, but if anything it made you feel even more alone.

You were staying with your father’s close friend, Ward, who had visited over the years, always treated you with kindness and that hadn’t changed when you moved in. Rose had tried to care for you, but someone trying to act as a mother figure only hurt more, so you pushed her away.

Ward’s children didn’t think much of you. Wheezie was kind, but young and busy with her own life. Sarah was barely home, basically living on the other side of the island. She made it very clear that she didn’t think much of you. And then there was Rafe - he was the most tiring. At first, he’d barely spoken a word to you, just keeping an eye out for you, like his father had instructed. You quickly grew tired of him following you around without a word, which ended up with you accidentally taking all your pent-up emotions out on him. You shouted and screamed and cried, while he just stood there watching, not even making a move to comfort you. That only made you hate him more.

You’d taken a long walk on the beach to calm down, walking for hours without an end before a familiar scent passed you. You noticed it coming from a shack and made your way towards the figure sitting outside.

You attempted to seem confident as you walked over. frustratingly having no money in your pockets to pay for what you wanted, you hoped you could charm the dark-haired man.

“Hey, mind if I have some?” You asked, sitting down opposite him confidently.

The dark-haired man looked you up and down and smirked. He could see you were a kook. “Rafe's girl,” he commented before handing you the joint.

You tried to hide the shock in your face. Rafe had talked about you? And this guy knew him? “Um, not his girl,” you spoke sourly before bringing the joint to your lips.

The first wave of escape rolled over you moments later, making you instantly crave more. “Do you think I could have one of my own?” You batted your eyelashes.

“Not without money, baby.”

“Rafe will pay you next time he sees you,” you lied, not giving a shit if Rafe got mad at you.t was your best excuse to get what you wanted right now.

“Fine, he better.”

You chatted with the guy, who you now knew was Barry, until the sun set. He offered to drop you off at home on his bike, but you declined, walking back to Figure Eight the same way you came. If you weren’t high, you would’ve been terrified, but right now, you don't care about anything, relishing in the feeling of nothingness.

When you returned to Tanyhill, Rafe was livid. “Where the fuck were you?!” He spoke with a raised voice as soon as you entered.

“Fuck off Rafe,” was all you replied before heading up to your bedroom and locking the door. Not before he noticed your blown pupils and empty expression.

You continued to see Barry every day from then on. You had a mutual agreement, you paid for the drugs and kept him company; he helped you hide from Rafe for a few hours each day.

Barry worked while you chatted away at him, weighing the white powder into small baggies. You couldn’t help yourself when you asked for a line, he was reluctant at first, but you had the money and he was a businessman after all.

Your routine continued for a month unnoticed, you’d told Ward and Rose you’d got a part-time job as a babysitter to give a decent excuse as to why you were out all day. They didn’t question it, just glad you were busy and seemed, on the surface, to be coping with the death of your mother.

Rafe wasn’t so easy to fool. He tried to follow you several times, questioning where you worked, and what the children’s names were. Each time he’d ask about your schedule you accused him of being nosey and he’d tell you he didn’t care as long as you weren’t causing trouble.

As summer turned into autumn, the evenings got darker and your walk home became more difficult. Usually, you were fine in your numb state, but when you’d arrived at Barry’s, he was nowhere to be found.

All you could do was turn back, the repercussions of your addiction making you feel sick and exhausted, barely able to see as you walked.

You felt dazed when you saw headlights approaching, a familiar grumble filled your ears as Rafe's truck slowed down beside you. “Fuck,” you muttered, hurrying your pace as the engine shut off, trying to find another route off the road.

“Y/N?” Rafe asked with a raised voice, trying to hide his confusion and concern.

You needed to run, but you couldn’t. Everything washed over you all at once, your feet remaining glued to the ground as you collapsed. You didn’t realise you were crying until you let out a loud sob and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

Rafe didn’t say anything. In truth, he didn’t know what to say. He knew you weren’t alright and that broke his heart.

The signs had been there for weeks. He knew you were high all the time and he tried to speak to you about it, but as usual, he failed. He tried to convince himself he didn’t care. You were nothing to him and if you wanted to destroy yourself, then he’d let you get on with it. But he couldn’t, not when he knew exactly how you felt. How awful you have to feel to turn to drugs. How losing a parent breaks you in two. He cared about you and he hated it.

thank you to my beta readers @cameronspecial @amiraisgoingthruit @arcielee - ilysm🤍

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x smut

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magicbystarlight · 3 months ago

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Venomous - Part Fourteen

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+, injuries, blood, PTSD, victim blaming, shitty men. Minors DNI.

The Hospital Wing was too loud. You sat up and the stiff movement had you groaning. The curtain shifted. Annette Figgleworm smiled at you. She was an Auror, relatively new considering she’d finished school only the year before. A good friend of Robert Bones. Theseus must have thought a familiar face would be better for you to wake up to.

“Didn’t think you’d be up for a few more hours,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

Grimacing, you shifted your legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe they’d let you return to your dorm. “Like shit.”

“Sounds about right. Want me to grab Urquart?”

You shook your head. “How’s Dumbledore?”

She hesitated. “Better,” she finally said, taking a seat in the chair by your bed. “Woke up for a bit before they moved him to St. Mungo’s.”

“They moved him?”

“Got a tad crowded.” She gestured to the curtain. “Half the school suddenly fell ill when word got out you were in here. Worse than exam week.”

Gawkers waiting to see the caged animal. It had you abandoning the idea of leaving. They wouldn’t get another show from you. Not today You laid down again, hating the burn of action. “Surprised they’re not charging admission.”

She laughed. “I’m sure someone’s conning the First Years into it.”

Madam Urquart came through the curtain. “You should still be asleep.” Exasperated, she opened the cabinet by your bed and pulled out a potion. She shoved it into your hands, told you to drink, and left.

“Her bedside manner’s still as charming as ever, eh?”

“A real doll.”

Annette uncorked the bottle, the task too difficult for you. “Sleep well,” she said as you drifted off again.

—

A sightless dream permeated the blackness.

A gentle caress of your hair. A soft kiss on your forehead. A lullaby you hadn’t heard in so long it might only have ever been a figment of your imagination.

The north wind doth blow

And here comes the snow

And what will the eagle do then?

Poor thing

She’ll sit in the rafters

And keep herself warm

And hide her head beneath her wing

Poor thing

The lullaby faded. Footsteps and rustling fabric. “I’m sorry to intrude.” You tried to move, but not even your lashes offered a flutter. “I wanted to ensure this was returned.”

A heavy sigh. “I’ll be sure she gets it. Thank you.” Something clinked. A silent moment. “They say she looks worse than she is. That she only needs a few days to recover.”

“I’m sure whoever did this to her is worse off.”

Your finger flexed infinitesimally.

Another soft touch brushed across your forehead. “It seems she held her own, but it’s a miracle she managed to survive. She was very lucky.”

Something creaked.

“However she survived it had nothing to do with luck or miracles.” More rustling fabric, fading footsteps. The lullaby resumed.

The north wind doth blow

And here comes the snow

And what will the snake do then?

Poor thing

He’ll coil up tightly

And keep himself warm

Until the first budding of spring

Poor thing

—

Theseus’s promise had fallen short. Keeping your family at bay was easy, but the rest of the Ministry was a different beast. You were given enough time between waking and your first interrogation to eat and bathe, but only just.

A meal of toast, beans, and a fried egg devoured before you were helped to the small washroom. As much as you craved a bath, a shower was all it offered. You worked to clean the grime and flecks of blood under the pelting water. You faced your reflection after. Thin, jagged lines littered your face. Half-healed scars of what had been open wounds the day before. A bruise on its final, ugly stage splayed across your neck and shoulder that matched the ones scattered across the rest of your body. Skin across your arm that had been singed now new and raw. The shadow of days worth of sleep deprivation lingered under your eyes. Frizz and knots had taken hold of your hair. Unseen was the ache that slowed your movements.

The gown you were given barely felt different than being bare. The material too thin, the length too short, the neckline too wide.

Several Ministry officials were waiting around your cleaned bed when you limped out. Neither Theseus nor Annette were there. Anger welled in your eyes at the witnesses, most you’d known since you were a toddler, to your humiliation. What would have been the difference if they’d waited outside? Edmund Bones, an aide to the Minister, asked if you needed Urquart for the pain.

“No,” you had hissed as you slid into the bed. “Just get this over with.”

Their questions went on for hours. Every part of your story nitpicked and debated. Did you actually need a new wand? Were you really in London? How many people had actually been there? How did Dumbledore get Splinched on such a short distance? Why didn’t you Apparate? How did an eagle find you but not dozens of trained trackers? Why surrender at all when you’d seemingly escaped? Their condescension irritated the scrapes they’d already left on your ego.

Neither you nor them were satisfied by time lunch rolled around, but Urquart had demanded a break. Cottage pie had never tasted so good. It wasn’t nearly as good when it came back up. “You’ve got to take it slow,” the Healer cautioned after she’d cleaned the mess. You asked if you’d get another potion soon. She shook her head. “Your body needs time to recover from the last round or it'll be overwhelmed. Best to wait a couple days.” She helped adjust the pillows behind you until you were as comfortable as you could be. She left only when they returned, warning she’d be in her office if you needed anything.

It had you half grateful, half mortified. How bad off were you that Urquart had taken pity on you?

The questions repeated until candles replaced the light of the sun. Then they ventured before the day of the attack. The strain you’d been under in the weeks since such a disturbing display of violence from your brother. The stress of planning a wedding while still in school. How difficult it must be in a very publicized relationship.

“I can handle it just fine. And I don’t see how any of that has to do with what happened to me."

It was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Filmore Flint, who responded. “The timing of your attack was…highly convenient. You needing a new wand and convincing Dumbledore to take a stroll through Muggle London at the exact same moment these supposed followers of Grindelwald were there? Almost improbable.”

“Almost,” you agreed spittingly, “and yet it happened. You have a dozen Aurors who can attest to that.”

“What I have is a dozen Aurors who can say they saw you surrounded by a group of witches and wizards in a random forest after suddenly being able to find you despite failing for days. Which again is very convenient timing.”

“What are you implying, Flint? That I made it all up? Set it up?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it was very convenient how everything came together.”

A near hysteric laugh broke from your throat. “Convenient? What was convenient? Seeing a man lose half his head. Nearly watching Dumbledore die? Being freezing and hungry and terrified? I thought I was never going to see my friends again. Or my brother. And in the end I was going to trade my freedom for my country’s because I thought that was the right thing to do. Was that convenient? Now every part of me aches and all I want is to be back in my dorm, in my bed, in my clothes with my friends who saved my life. But I can’t because I am here talking to a bunch of beauracrates who’d rather point fingers at a teenager than face the truth. None of it is fucking convenient for me. But I suppose it is for you. Makes your job easier when you don't actually have to do it, huh?”

There were a few very half-assed assurances that of course it wasn’t convenient and that the questions were only raised out of procedure, but no apology came from Flint himself. They left you half an hour later more exhausted and exasperated than you'd been the day before.

Theseus and Annette returned to your sour mood. Neither surprised they’d been cruel in their questioning. “Your disappearance caused quite the stir,” Theseus said. “Your friends weren’t as quiet as the Ministry would’ve liked and the Daily Prophet couldn’t resist.” He pulled several folded papers from his briefcase, offering them to you.

DUMBLEDORE REPORTED MISSING ALONGSIDE WELL-KNOWN STUDENT

SEARCH UNDERWAY FOR MISSING HOGWARTS STUDENT AND PROFESSOR: FRIENDS' CLAIM GRINDELWALD IS TO BLAME

DUMBLEDORE AND SELWYN FOUND BATTERED & BRUISED BUT BREATHING

GRINDELWALD IN LONDON? WHAT WE KNOW SO FAR

The one that connected your disappearance to Grindelwald would have come out the morning before they attacked in the woods. Was it how they knew he was still injured? Confirmed that you were still there waiting for rescue? Had it prompted them to act sooner? “Well at least something good came out of this,” you murmured, flipping through the pages of the latest issue. Articles that focused on the Muggle war and ones about Grindelwald’s known associates—including Vinda Rosier. The picture was old, but you’d recognize her face anywhere.

“We’ve been trying for months to get them to print anything related to Grindelwald and they refused. But the moment the future Mrs. Malfoy went missing,” Annette tisked with frustrated amusement, “suddenly they can write about him.”

You flipped another page to more pictures. “Don’t call me that.” You thought you might have recognized a couple.

Theseus cut in. “You’re right. This,” he nodded to the paper, “is good. We warned the Ministry this could happen. People should have been prepared for this. If it had been anyone else this had happened to, I can’t imagine I’d be having a conversation with them.”

“Well no one else has Abby and Issa,” you agreed, setting the paper aside. You’d been sitting in the same position too long and it was beginning to grow sore. You tried to move some of the pillows yourself, but your face gave away the stinging discomfort. Annette helped you lay on your side. “Speaking of, do you think I could see them before dinner?”

—

It only took ten minutes between your request and their appearance in the Hospital Wing. Annette shushed Theseus when he tried to protest you getting out of bed. You limped down the empty room, intending to meet them in the middle but instead you only made it a few feet before they’re wrapping their arms tightly around you.

“Thank you.” You heard their sniffles and held them tighter. “Thank you.”

—

“Ten more minutes?” Larissa pleaded.

Urquart, her usual brusqueness returned, sighed. “Five.” And she was gone.

You were seated crossed legged on the bed with Larissa behind you working on the final braid in your hair. Abigail was curled in the chair. They’d stayed for hours, well past dinner and curfew. Listening. Admiring your wand. Telling you the chaos after your letter. Now they shared their own encounter with Flint and his unabashed desire to keep Grindelwald’s name out of it all. “Only managed to get in the paper cause Azar knew that reporter,” Larissa said.

Abigail let her chin rest on top of her knee. “And bribed the editor to run the story. Plus helping us sneak out of the castle to do the interview.”

“Wait, what?” Abigail shushed you, but you continued in a whisper. “Bribes and sneaking out? What the fuck?”

“Flint told us we needed to keep it quiet,” she said softly. “That your claim about Grindelwald was unsubstantiated and there was no reason to cause a panic.”

“So of course we told everybody.” Larissa leaned over to grab the nightcap at the very edge of the bedside table, nearly knocking over the hair potion she’d brought along. “Ralph had the idea to take it a step further with the paper by sending a letter, but all we got was the story about your disappearance in there. He was so upset. Next thing we know, he’s gone to Azar and they’ve got a plan to get us face to face with a reporter.”

The information had your mind reeling. Ralph? Azar? Together?

Abigail peeked over her shoulder before speaking. “They wouldn’t tell us everything, only that your uncle knew the reporter and a little bribe got the editor to ensure he’d run the story front page. The two of them snuck us out through this passage in the middle of the night that took us to Hogsmeade and got us into this back room at the Hog’s Head. It was,” she shook her head, “so weird.”

“Kind of felt like being in a spy novel.” Larissa’s arms slid around your waist and her head rested on your shoulder. “I think I’ll stick to romances.”

You tried to smile as you gripped her arm, but it didn't stick. “I’m not sure that’s much of an option anymore.”

“He’s really coming?” There was a tremble in Abigail’s voice.

“Yeah,” you nod, “he’s coming.”

—

Sleep did not come easily without a Draught. Every thought too distracting. You laid in the dark, tossing and turning unable to find comfort. The image of a half gone head spilling into the snow filled the void when you closed your eyes.

When sleep did come, it was restless. Disjointed. Your name repeated with promises of freedom and power. Chess pieces, black and life-sized, with swords raised. Bloodied, fragmented mirrors reflecting brown eyes then blue. A twisted hand grasping at your throat. Alone. Back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. Trees passed in a blur. But you’re back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. Crimson snow crunched under your feet. But you’re back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. The rabbit, white fur rotted, bounded beside you. But you’re back at the pond. He’s coming. Run. You stared at your reflection in the water. Tom stared back over your shoulder. “Run.”

—

“You look awful,” Hestia Malfoy said, nose wrinkled as she and her husband stood over you. When you’d said family could come, you hadn’t realized how loose the term would be interpreted.

“Mother, please.” Abraxas took the place at your side, grasping your hand as if you’d float away. “You look beautiful.”

“You do look awful,” your mother said, less disdainfully than you expected. Too softly. Too motherly. “They should have taken you to St. Mungo’s. The Healers there know what they’re doing.”

“We should have you come to the Manor. Have our own Healer take care of you.”

You recalled their choice in Healer. “I’ll be back to normal in a few days.”

Abraxas rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. “None of this should have happened. I could have bought you a new wand.”

“And going into the Muggle side? You were asking for trouble.” Sixtus gave a disgusted snort.

His wife agreed. “You’re lucky it was wizards who attacked you and not those sort. Have you heard the vile things they do to each other?”

“No, but I’ve heard the things Grindelwald has done to them.”

Hestia’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “It’s more humane than the way they have been killing each other.”

“And what of the things he’s done to wizards? What his followers did to me?”

Sixtus laughed. “You’re the one who shot the first spell.”

Iron coated your tongue as your mother veered the conversation back to your appearance.

—

Sounds of wandering students wafted through the cracked door. The remains of lunch sat on the nightstand growing cold. The papers Theseus had left were scattered across the bed, the morning’s in your hands. Crime of Passion? Minster Claims Recent Attack Was Personal. It was ridiculous. All your words had been twisted. Yes, it was personal, but it wasn’t some petty vindictive crime. It was an act of war. It had been written by a different reporter than the others. A Claudius Rookwood. If you remembered correctly, his mother had been a Flint.

You tossed it aside, leaned back, and tried to rub out the pounding in your head. It wasn’t fair. All that to not even have the truth out there? If only that reporter your friends had spoken to had come along. But if it had taken some elaborate plan to sneak out of the castle to speak to them, you can imagine they weren’t welcome in the castle for one reason or another.

You sat up.

You could sneak out. Not alone, not when it was a struggle to walk. But if Azar could get four people out without being caught, he could get you out.

—

Dinner came and went. There was no response to the note you’d sent. You felt stupid for ever thinking he’d help.

—

More hours of disjointed sleep. Dreams weaved between blinks. Snow. Curtains. Rabbits. Curtains. Blood. Curtains. Rings. Curtains. Water. Eyes. Eyes?

You blinked again. Eyes. Not quite blue, not quite green, but somewhere in between. Golden hairs specked through his brown eyebrows. Despite the dreary winter months, his skin still looked kissed by the sun.

Kneeled beside the bed, his expression was much the same as it had been that day you’d woken to it in the alley. Softer, less intense, but you recognized it now as his eyes flicked from scar to scar. Concern.

“Ralph?”

A half smile curled the side of his face at your groggy recognition. “Sorry to wake you, but we’ve got to get going.”

“Going?”

It was Azar who responded, his face hovering behind McLaggen’s. “To see a reporter about an interview.” His forehead creased. “If you’re still up to it.”

You sat up quickly. Too quickly. You ignored the wobble in your vision and threw off the blanket. McLaggen averted his gaze from your mostly bare legs, standing and shrugging off his robe. He handed it over. “It’s gonna be cold.”

It wasn’t cold. Days in the snow let the chill seep into your bones unnoticed. Yet you clutched the robe tighter as you followed McLaggen behind the mirror on the fourth floor into the dark, frigid passage. Somehow this was the place you’d come closest to dying.

The tip of McLaggen’s wand illuminated the space. A crack ran along one of the walls. It was a mostly silent walk through the tunnel. It curved every so often, widened to a space large enough to fit half the Great Hall, and narrowed again, and finally came to end at a stone wall. Azar stepped forward and pressed his wand into a small hole you could barely see and turned it once, then twice, and continued until it had been done seven times. Like the wall that separated Diagon Alley and The Leaky Cauldron, the ceiling began to part. Azar stepped back several paces and the wall began to pull out into stairs.

It was magical.

“What sorts of enchantments do you think they used to make this?”

Azar shushed you, keeping his eyes on the opening above. When satisfied with the quiet he motioned for you and McLaggen to follow. It took a moment to recognize the village, your attention only pulled from the entrance once it closed. It was odd at night. Still and silent.

The Hog’s Head was close. Azar led you to the back, up a set of rickety steps along the outside, and knocked thrice. It opened a moment later to a young woman you didn’t recognize. Her black brows raised,she shook her head, and stood aside. “You’re late.”

Fabula Auctor. Either a fictitious name or her parents paid a Name Seer who actually had the Sight. The former was more likely.

Her questioning was nothing like the others you’d endured. She was emphatic, but never complimentary. She asked for clarification, not to dismiss. And it didn’t end with the arrival of the Aurors. The days after. The relief, the pain, the joy, the anger, the comfort, the fear.

“What’s been the hardest part of being back?”

“Sleep.”

“Why is that?”

You hesitated, crossing your arms in front of you, one hand rubbing at your neck. She prompted again, patient but insistent. But nothing came out of your mouth. The nightmares were not something you wanted to share.

“Move on,” Azar said.

And she did. She scribbled a bit more and finally set her quill aside. “That’s all the questions I have. Last thing I need is a picture.”

“Is that the best idea?” McLaggen asked. “They’ll know she isn’t in the Hospital Wing.”

Fabula smiled. “They won’t have a clue.”

The walk back was like wading through water. Twice you stumbled over the too long robe still draped around your shoulders. The first time you’d caught yourself. The second McLaggen had caught and steadied you. You took his offered arm, leaning heavily against him.

“Thank you,” you said. You should have said more. Told him how grateful you were for everything he’d done. The kindness in the alley, the effort to ensure your story was told—both now and before. Apologize your mother’s letter. Ask him about the child he’d have soon. You said nothing else.

The back of the mirror appeared several minutes later. Azar checked his watch. “You should head up to your dorm. Rounds start in half an hour,” he told McLaggen. “I’ve got her,” he added, holding up his own arm for you to take.

The stairs were the worst, moving as you were midstep. But you made it down and back into the Hospital Wing unnoticed. Azar helped ease you back into the bed, McLaggen’s robe slung over his arm after a promise to return it. When he’d pulled the blanket back over you and said a good night, you reached for his hand.

“Thank you for Drein. And for coming tonight.”

He squeezed your hand. “Least I could do.” He tried to release your hand.

But you held firm. You had not forgotten. “Why did you write the note?”

His shoulders sagged. His voice low, lower than it had been before in the quiet. “He said he wanted to apologize. We were supposed to meet at the library. All three of us so we could talk in a place you’d feel safe. I didn’t want you two alone again.” He scoffed at himself. If you had the energy, you would have too. “When neither of you showed up I spent hours trying to find you. But you were nowhere and neither was he. Not even at dinner. And when he finally showed in the middle of the night, he was different.” He paused, searching for a better word. “Somber. Never seen him like that. Like he was in mourning. When you weren’t anywhere Sunday and the paper said you and Dumbledore were missing, I thought he had…” He swallowed and didn’t finish. “It wasn’t until McLaggen went asking for help I knew you were alive.”

“You thought he had killed me,” you whispered, “and you said nothing.”

His head bobbed. “And I said nothing.”

“Is that why you did all this? Guilt?”

“Tom asked me too," he breathed.

Exhaustion smothered whatever reaction you'd have had. Your hand thumped against the bed. You closed your eyes and let the nothingness sleep offered consume you.

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