#also becca i love you with all my heart

[bitbrumal]

you ever think about how kaeya is constantly on guard, scared, & simply -- not okay. that regardless how good he gets at handling all the threats he anticipates, that does not give him the power to make himself feel safe. just prepared. just capable. & it is something alike safe, it really is ----- but absolutely not the thing itself.

anyway all he truly craves is to just feel safe again & he lowkey highkey wishes he’d never felt it. that the ragnvindrs were less kind.       it was easier when he didn’t know what he was missing.

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 8)

Word count: 2000

Warnings: smut, oral, strap-on, blowjob, mommy kink

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi @ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet @polaris-likethestar @ahintofchaos

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you say, rooting around for your clothes. You find your underwear (cringing at how wet it still is when you put it back on) and your pants (which make your sweaty legs feel even more gross), but no sign of your shirt or bra. Agatha’s already pulled her robe back on and is fixing her messy hair in the mirror. “Have you seen my–fuck!”

“What?” Agatha stops, turning to face you. 

Your face has gone white. “You took off my shirt and bra downstairs. They’re by the front door.” 

“Shit,” she swears. “Um, okay. I’ll go down and distract him. You go find a shirt from your room and then say you came for dinner since you left early yesterday. When he comes upstairs to change, you find your stuff.” 

You nod and before she leaves, she crosses over to you and pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. 

“We’re not done here,” she vows and then runs downstairs. You quickly go into your closet and find the first tattered T-shirt you can. You’re able to find a new pair of underwear and a skirt as well. You ball up the pants and underwear you just had on and shove them in-between the dresser and the bed and hurry down the stairs right as you hear the door to the house open. 

“Hey, dad!” You say when he comes in, trying to slow your racing heart at almost getting caught. His wife was two fingers deep in your pussy not ten minutes ago. 

“Hey, sweet pea! What are you doing over here?” 

You glance at Agatha who is gradually backing over towards the front door. “I felt bad about yesterday, you know, having to leave early to help Wanda. So I thought I’d come over and we could all have dinner?” 

He smiles at you. “That would be lovely. Let me go take a shower and then we can figure out what we want.” He slides past you to go up the stairwell and the moment you hear his footsteps upstairs you breathe a long sigh of relief. 

“I think these are yours?” Agatha says teasingly, holding up the clothes she had taken off you. “Nice new outfit.”

“That was so close,” you laugh, actually not believing that you got away with it. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you want to keep being daring. “Get on the couch.” 

Agatha raises an eyebrow at your demanding tone. “What?” She asks carefully. 

“I said that I wanted to taste you.” You can hear the shower turn on from down here so you know you have about fifteen minutes. 

“Honey, your father is right upstairs.”

“And?” You saunter over to take her hand and lead her to the couch. She puts up no fight when you push her down and sink to your knees before her. “That just means you have to be quiet.” 

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “It’s so cute how you think you’re the one in control.” Agatha shuts up quickly though, when you suck a kiss into her upper thigh. Her robe has ridden up and you can almost see between her thighs. “Naughty girl,” she tuts. The mark also means that she can’t have sex with your father anytime soon. 

You weave your hands between the backs of her thighs and the couch and haul her forward to get better access. She moans at the abrupt movement and bunches up her robe at her hips. 

You part her legs and fuck, she is a mess. Wetness glistens on her thighs and her pussy is swollen and red, literally dripping. You can smell her. You just stare for a minute, transfixed. You had no idea you had this effect on her but now that you do, you will never be the same. 

“Are you going to actually do something or are you just going to stare?” Agatha bites out through gritted teeth and your breath hitches. 

“Do you get this wet for my dad?” You have no clue where that came from but all you can think about is her answer. 

Agatha actually whimpers. “No,” she rasps. Armed with that knowledge, you go back down between her legs and glide your tongue up the length of her pussy. You watch her through your eyelashes as she bites down on a finger to stifle her moans. “Fuck, baby.” 

She tangles a hand in your hair and pulls it gently. You make a noise that vibrates against her and her hips jump. She throws one of her legs over your shoulder to bring you closer into her and you can feel her calf flex against your back. You lick and suck and she lets out a guttural groan as you find her clit. Her fingers tighten in your hair when you scrape your teeth against it. 

“You’re doing so good for mommy, baby, you’re gonna make me cum,” she says hoarsely.  You keep doing exactly what you’re doing, furiously devouring her cunt, and a minute later, her legs tense and she cums all over your face. You let her ride her aftershocks out on your tongue, smirking at her struggling to stay composed.  

She curses and then pulls you up by your hair, giving you a bruising kiss and then licking her wetness off your chin. 

“Satisfied?” She says, a wicked grin on her face. 

“Not even close.” 

“Good,” she says, giving you one less peck before moving her legs around you so she can stand up. “I need to go put some real clothes on before your father finishes his shower. Don’t get into any trouble.”  

When she goes upstairs, you quickly run your shirt and bra out to your car and stash them in your bookbag so you don’t forget them or leave them lying around in another precarious place. 

Agatha comes back down wearing a hoodie and olive green sweatpants. The same sweatpants from the picture she sent you this morning. She sees you looking and she smirks. She reaches down and fists the fabric so it tightens and reveals a large bulge. 

Your mouth falls open, your cheeks flush, and your brain short-circuits. She’s wearing a strap-on right now. She went upstairs, found her strap-on, and put it on. 

It is impossible to think of anything else than her stretching out your cunt with it. 

You’re trying to form words but sound just won’t come out and she’s immensely enjoying it. 

“See something you like, sweetheart?” 

“Yes,” you finally manage to choke out. And then, with impeccable timing as always, your dad comes down the stairs. Agatha lets go of her sweatpants and gives him a smile. 

“Figuring out what we want for dinner?”

“Maybe pizza? Agatha and I can go pick it up,” you offer. Agatha hums in agreement, looking curiously at you. 

“That works for me. Let me go get my computer and I can order it.” He leaves the room to go to the home office. 

“What are you doing?” Agatha asks, eyebrow raised. You shrug mysteriously and follow your dad over to the table when he comes back with his laptop. You all get a large pepperoni pizza to split and a liter of Dr. Pepper. 

“It’ll be ready in 20 minutes,” your dad reads off the screen. 

“We should probably go now, just in case there’s traffic or it’s done early,” you say. Now Agatha knows something’s up. The Pizza Hut is only ten minutes from here and there’s never traffic by their house. 

But your dad doesn’t think it’s strange. Instead, he turns so he’s facing the two of you. “It’s so nice to see my girls getting along.” 

You bite back a wicked smile. If only he knew. 

The second you and Agatha get into her car, she looks pointedly at you. “Alright, what’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask, playing dumb. “I just want pizza.” You don’t say anything else so she has no choice but to start driving. 

You sit in comfortable silence for most of the ride until you tell her to pull over. 

“What?” She asks incredulously. 

“Pull over there,” you repeat, pointing to the parking lot of the K-mart that’s always empty. Sure enough, there’s two cars. She scoffs, but does as you say, pulling into a spot far away from anything. 

Before she can ask what’s going on again, you unbuckle your seatbelt and climb over the middle console and straddle her. She chuckles, hands finding her familiar spot on your thighs.

“You made me come pick up pizza with you all because you want my cock in your cunt? You’re insatiable, honey.” 

“You love it,” you retort, pressing your lips against hers. Like earlier, you don’t have a lot of time and she knows that too. She slides a hand up your skirt, pushing your underwear to the side to make sure you’re ready for her. 

“I don’t know why you even bothered to put underwear back on,” she says casually, like she’s having a conversation about the weather. “You’ve already completely soaked through this pair.” You blush despite yourself, still a little embarrassed by how needy you get for this woman. 

“Shut up and fuck me,” you tell her and she seems amused. She makes quick work of pulling her fake cock out from the waistband of her sweatpants, holding it with one hand while the other guides your hips onto it. You let out a long moan as you sink down on her. “Fuckkk.”

“You like that?” She pants in your ear, already doing the best she can to thrust up into you. 

“Your cock feels so good inside me, mommy,” you whine, putting your hands around her shoulders to get enough leverage to bounce up and down. 

“You look so pretty like this. My beautiful girl.” She peppers kisses on your chest, which flushes from her praise. You’re getting closer to the edge and she reaches down to rub at your clit. “Fuck, wish I could feel how you’re squeezing my dick.” 

Your rhythm stutters at the image of that and then you’re riding with a renewed energy, determined to put on a show since she can’t actually feel. “I love your cock so much. I’m gonna cum all over it for you.” 

Her hand that isn’t circling your clit wraps around your throat and you whimper. You didn’t ever think choking would be so hot. She leans in so her hot breath is against your ear and whispers, “Cum for mommy.” 

You have to bite down on her shoulder to stop yourself from screaming. She hisses at the feeling but never stops fucking you through your orgasm. 

You rest your head against hers for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of her inside you. 

She pats your hip. “Come on, we have to go pick up the pizza. Can’t have your father getting suspicious.” 

“Oh, but didn’t you hear? He’s so glad we’re finally getting along,” you remark, carefully sitting up and whining at the emptiness once her strap falls out. You move back to your seat and she smirks. 

“Why don’t you clean up your mess quickly?” 

You stare at her, a little confused by what she means, but you see her eyes flick from your mouth down to her purple plastic dick. You give her a knowing grin and lean over to suck her strap into your mouth. She groans, putting a hand in your hair, enjoying the way you bob your head up and down along her length. 

“There you go, good girl,” she says, very pleased. You moan at her words and the taste of yourself. When you finally come up for air, she pulls you in for another kiss. It seems that she also can’t get enough. 

When you’ve collected yourself and put your seatbelt back on, she pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the road to the Pizza Hut, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console. You reach over and lace your fingers with hers, your insides warming with how she smiles at you. 

[caramelloss]

"you are my witch"

lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c

summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123

author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.

content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage

you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia." 

you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing. 

but you feel, oh, you feel. 

you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever. 

you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back. 

you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?" 

your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror. 

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert. 

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you. 

after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy. 

lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you. 

and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face. 

she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind. 

warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air. 

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself. 

“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”  

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm. 

“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again. 

you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace. 

the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore. 

her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.

lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.

her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck. 

your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her. 

the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable. 

you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes. 

“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman. 

she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.

your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more. 

but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her. 

lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds. 

she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line. 

the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint. 

using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.  

she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her. 

her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her. 

her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash. 

you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away. 

she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling. 

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.” 

you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you. 

your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?” 

you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum. 

“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath. 

“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again. 

you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!” 

the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm. 

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm. 

when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris. 

you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back. 

lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.” 

you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.

the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains. 

[pennyellee]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, religious references, implied age gap, hoseok-sshi being tired of yoongi, coercion, psychological manipulation, death, implied murder, mentions of cancer, strong language, misogyny, emotional distress, emotional manipulation, verbal confrontation, verbal abuse, suicidal ideation, "falling" from a horse, (partially fictional) lobotomy description, traditions of the clan, pledge, intimate themes, physical violence implied, psychological conflict, oral sex, fingering, handjob, vulnerability (if i forgot smth, pls i'm so sorrryy)

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 18,8K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, forbidden medical procedures, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

author's note: WELL AT LAST INNIT? Y'all I swear I’m as impatient to put this out but also so nervous coz this one was a hard one ya know. I decided to split this into two parts, and perhaps if this would be only one part I would have to write “the end” which I’m still not contemptuous with soooo yeah. I can’t believe we are almost at the end of it all. I still haven't decided whether I will write two endings or not. The ending that I initially intended prolly won't be fancied and I definitely scrapped the open ending, but you will never know coz I won't tell ya more.

ANYWAY - for those who asked a lot about Y/N’s and Yoongi’s age gap, kudos for your patience. You can finally sleep in piece babies. Also, I have another fic that is setted in the world of CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI [now i’ll know if you’re actually reading these notes hihi] of which preview will come soon after this chapter, again, very excited to push it out finally AND, yes to all of you if you’re still reading this note - CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI [what a promo] will come around as soon as I’m finished with UNI this year. If yall be good I can pull out a preview out of my sleeve for Christmas coz that shit - well damn, just damn.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it almost right after it was finished coz that shit is looooooooong this time. I LOVE YOU BECCA 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list previous

seele (n.) the soul, inner essence, or spirit

Her mind was constantly occupied with thoughts she wished to speak loud, but couldn’t. She wanted to warn, to tell the young souls that their minds were poisoned. Y/N’s heart was heavy in her chest each time she lay in bed next to him, letting him pull her close and hold her for the entirety of the night. And far the biggest sacrifice and risk she had to make was giving him her body when he desired her. At least partially. He was pacing things slowly at first- step by step. 

She never thought that in order to set herself free, she would have to give herself up first. However hard it was breaking her heart that she had to stoop so low in order to turn her life on a different path, had to be endured, sucked in.

She never understood what made her body so weak for him. Why did her mind scream for her to run even as her body yearned to be touched?

Yoongi’s hands moved over her body, igniting a fire that burned deep within her. She was supposed to feel like she was suffocating, drowning in the sea. But she could not let herself fail—not this time. 

His fingers traced the curve of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His touch was gentle yet still so possessive. Yoongi’s lips brushed against her earlobe, and his warm breath reached the softness of her skin.

He leaned in, his lips capturing hers once more, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth. Y/N moaned, her body arching against his as he pulled her closer, his hands moving to cup her breasts.

He squeezed them gently, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, sending sparks flying through her body. Y/N shuddered, her hips grinding against his, her arousal building with every passing moment. His hands moved to the button of her skirt.

He popped the button, his fingers slipping inside to caress her warm, wet flesh. Y/N gasped, her body shuddering under his touch. Yoongi’s fingers moved faster, his thumb brushing over her clit.

Her hips bucked against his hand, her arousal building with every single moment. Yoongi’s fingers moved faster, his thumb circling her clit, his other fingers pumping in and out of her wet, pulsing core.

Y/N’s body shuddered, her orgasm building, her mind spinning with pleasure, his thumb pressing harder against her clit, sending her over the edge.

Y/N cried out, her body arching against Yoongi’s as she came, her orgasm washing over her in waves. Yoongi’s fingers never stopped, his thumb still circling her clit, prolonging her pleasure.

As she came down from her orgasm, Y/N felt Yoongi’s fingers slide out of her, his thumb pressing one last time against her clit before moving away. He pulled her closer, his lips capturing hers.

Yoongi’s kiss was deep and intense, his tongue dancing with hers as their naked bodies pressed against each other. She could feel his hardness against her thigh, his desire for her clear. But he knew that she was not ready. 

“I need you.” His voice was husky with pleasure and selfishness.  Yoongi pulled back slightly, his eyes burning with desire.

“You are so fucking beautiful—”  His eyes never left hers when he lowered down to lay soft kisses on her lower abdomen.

“—And so fucking mine.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at Yoongi’s words. She could feel his warm breath against her skin as he continued to kiss her abdomen, his lips leaving a trail of heat and desire.

“Yoongi,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. Yoongi’s eyes locked onto her most intimate parts. He lowered his head, his tongue darting out to taste her. Y/N gasped at the sensation, her body arching against his as he explored her most sensitive areas. His tongue was warm and wet, his touch gentle, seductive. This only happened in one of her dreams and never did she imagine this would be once a reality.

As he continued to pleasure her, Y/N felt herself getting closer and closer to another orgasm. Her body trembled with pleasure, her breath catching in her throat as she reached the peak.

With a loud cry, Y/N came again, her body shaking against Yoongi’s as he continued to pleasure her. As she came down from her orgasm, Yoongi slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/N’s hands slid up Yoongi’s chest, her fingers digging into his skin. He reached down and began to undo his pants, his erection springing free, swollen with need. She knew what he expected of her, hence it was easier to just accept it and be done with it. 

“Can I? —” She asked, her voice trembling. She needs him to think she wants him just like he wants her. His eyes closed before he spoke with a husky voice.

“Please—” he choked out. He reached down and began to guide her hand onto his shaft, his fingers wrapping around hers to show her how to stroke him, feeling the heat and hardness of him. She could feel his pulse beating beneath her touch.

As she began to jerk him off, Y/N felt a some twisted sense of power and control. She could see the desire in Yoongi’s eyes and feel the need building within him. She increased her pace, her hand moving up and down his shaft in a rhythmic motion. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat as Y/N continued to pleasure him. His eyes locked onto hers.

“Dove,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. She could feel his body tensing, his need for release building. With a final stroke, Yoongi came, his orgasm washing over him hard, spurring the hot semen on her hand.

He did not last long, how could he when it was she pleasuring him?

The wedding of her sister was coming dangerously close, days went by rather quickly when there were no fights to fight or battles to win.

“Did you think of a gift for your husband, my dear?” An elderly female voice echoed on the terrace as she was sipping her tea. It was still not the warmest weather but the snow was by far almost gone and the sun was peeking through the white clouds. It was a perfect day to ride a horse.

“A gift?” Y/N squinted her eyebrows, not having a single clue as to what her mother was referring to.

“The day of his birth is arriving soon.” The younger female almost choked on her herbal tea, she still kept drinking as Yoongi might be taking the activities in their bedroom slow for now, she does not know when he will stop being patient. The herbs will kill any seeds that could be planted in her womb. 

Y/N’s mind raced, her fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain cup. The bitter taste of the tea was a stark contrast to the sweetness she was expected to embody. The idea of giving a gift to the man who had taken everything from her felt like a cruel joke, a twisted irony that only deepened her resentment.

“A gift,” she repeated, the words almost foreign on her tongue. Her mother’s voice, though soft, held the weight of generations of expectations, yet Y/N could sense some undertone, a message to be conveyed. Expectations that Y/N had always felt burdened by, but now they were suffocating her, pressing down on her like a relentless tide.

“Yes, a gift,” her mother continued, oblivious to the storm brewing behind Y/N’s eyes. “Something meaningful. You must show him your gratitude, your… affection.” She hesitated on the last word, perhaps sensing the tension in her daughter but brushing it off as the nerves of a newlywed. After all, this was the life she had been groomed for—submission, obedience, and silent suffering disguised as devotion.

Until she got the taste of freedom.

Y/N nodded mechanically, her mind already drifting away from the conversation. Her mother’s voice became a distant murmur, drowned out by the rush of her thoughts. How could she possibly give him something meaningful when every part of her being still wanted to run away from him? When every night she spent in his arms felt like a betrayal of herself?

The sun’s warmth on her skin felt almost mocking, a false promise of comfort in a world that had turned cold and unyielding. The thought of his birthday, of celebrating the man who held her captive in a gilded cage, was almost too much to bear. She felt her resolve slipping, the carefully constructed facade of the dutiful wife threatening to crack.

But she couldn’t let it break, not yet. Not when she was so close to finding a way out. She had sacrificed too much, endured too much, to falter now.

“I’ll think of something, Ma” Y/N finally replied, her voice calm, betraying nothing of the turmoil within. Her mother smiled, satisfied, and turned to gaze out at the garden. Y/N understood her words clearly. She followed her gaze, but all she saw was the vast emptiness that mirrored her own heart.

Her eyes narrowed down to her younger sister, watching her mount a horse, Taehyung by her side just like he had been for the past months. Her father is not nor never will be happy with both hers and her sister’s elopements, not that it’s going to matter soon.

The sight stirred something bitter in Y/N, a pang of resentment mixed with a twisted sense of protectiveness. She spent days and nights wishing she could reverse Xiaoli’s fate.

“She has changed,” her mother spoke again. Y/N’s eyes closed whilst she breathed out a loud sigh.

“She has, indeed,” Y/N muttered back. If she can call prefrontal lobotomy ‘a change’, then yes, Xiaoli has changed very much so.

“Why can’t you be happy for her?” Her mother’s voice, gentle but insistent, grated against Y/N’s nerves like sandpaper.

“Are you happy for me, Ma?” Y/N countered quickly. The question hung in the air, heavy and charged, like the tense silence before a storm. Y/N’s mother hesitated, her composure faltering for a fraction of a second before she regained her poise. Her eyes flickered, a shadow of something unreadable passing through them, but it was gone before Y/N could grasp it.

“Your happiness,” her mother began, carefully choosing her words, “has always been… complicated.”

“Complicated,” Y/N echoed, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. It was a diplomatic way of saying that her happiness had never been a priority. In their world, happiness was a luxury, often sacrificed for the sake of duty, appearances, and survival.

“Do you think I do not know?” Y/N continued, her voice low, edged with the frustration she had suppressed for far too long. “Do you think I haven’t noticed how you and father always looked at me with a kind of pity? As if I’m some tragic figure in a story you would rather not tell?”

Her mother’s face remained impassive, but Y/N could see the tension in the way she held herself, the slight tremor in her hands as they rested in her lap. “I have always wanted the best for you,” her mother said, but the words felt rehearsed, as if she had said them a thousand times before and had long since stopped believing them.

“Then tell me, Ma,” Y/N pressed, leaning forward, her voice dropping to a whisper, “what is the best for me? Is it to be locked in a marriage where every night I lose a piece of myself? Or is it to watch as my sister being expe-” Y/N stopped herself from slipping such information out.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she realized how close she had come to revealing the unspeakable truth. She quickly clamped her mouth shut, biting back the words that had almost spilt out. Her mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in their depths, but Y/N forced herself to remain calm, to steady her racing heart.

Her mother’s gaze bored into her, searching for the secret Y/N had almost exposed, but Y/N refused to let it show. She couldn’t afford to slip, not now, not when everything was hanging by such a fragile thread. But her mother’s finger that softly tapped next to her ear told her that she knows more than she shows. They are listening. They always do.

The elder woman sighed just like her daughter a few moments ago. “You started to look happier these past weeks, I just thought that maybe, just maybe you’ve found your peace in your life.” The older woman continued the conversation like no other message was sent her way.

She couldn’t bring herself to meet her mother’s eyes, afraid of what she might see reflected there—pity, disappointment, or worse, a recognition of the truth Y/N was so desperately trying to hide.

Her mother reached out, placing a hand gently on Y/N’s arm. The touch was meant to be comforting, but it only served to remind Y/N of how disconnected she felt, and how far she had drifted from the person she used to be. “You deserve happiness, Y/N. Real happiness. And I want that for you, more than anything.”

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat, choking back the bitter retort that threatened to spill out. Happiness was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not when every day was a battle to keep herself from falling apart, to protect the one person she had left in this world.

“I am trying, Ma,” she said instead, her voice barren, trying to find some semblance of peace, some way to reconcile the choices she had made. But that peace seemed as distant as the stars, something she could see but never touch.

Her mother gave her arm a gentle squeeze before letting go. “You have always been so strong, Y/N. I know life has not been easy for you, but you have survived so much. I just hope that one day, you will not have to pretend anymore.”

Y/N nodded, unable to trust herself to speak. Her mother’s words were well-intentioned, but they felt like salt in a wound that had never fully healed. She wanted to tell her mother the truth, to explain the depths of her despair, the weight of the secrets she carried, but she could not. The risk was too great, the consequences too dire.

So instead, she buried the truth deeper, locking it away in the darkest corner of her mind. She would have to continue pretending, for now, until she could find a way out—if there even was one.

“Nonetheless, do well to remember something for me—” her head turned to face her mother once more, awaiting what else she could possibly say to her.

“You are the queen here, child.”

Y/N did not understand her mother’s words at the time, but she recalled their reunion all those months ago, hearing her say those words again.

Be a queen.

“He is getting better—” his voice resonated near her. She did not turn to face him until the chair next to her made an uncomfortable noise. He was far too busy today, busier than usual. He greeted her mother with respect each time. 

Her mother is not the enemy here, nor she ever was. Yet, she is being watched with such precise carefulness by all the Min worshipers, maids, soldiers - everyone. Wang Zemo was the unspoken enemy that her husband is secretly planning to eliminate.

They are not speaking about that sensitive subject, yet Y/N knows that it is going to happen no matter what she thinks about her father. Unless—

“How do you feel today?” he asked.

She finally turned to face him, her eyes searching for any sign of the concern she had grown used to. But today, something was different. There was an unfamiliar hardness in his gaze, a flicker of something she could not quite place.

“I am fine,” she replied, her voice steady despite the unease growing inside her. “Just a bit tired from last night’s work.”

“There is a jewellery showroom I would like to visit with you if you feel well enough—”

The jewellery store was a haven of elegance, with its sparkling displays and refined ambience. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, each piece of jewellery capturing a moment of beauty and grace. Today, however, an air of tension hung over the store, palpable even among the glistening gems and polished glass cases.

Y/N could sense all the stares angled at them, all the whispers were heard by her ears, yet Yoongi remained unbothered. She on the other hand felt uneasy by such attention. After all, it is not every day they welcome such a powerful man in their store. Such a dangerous man.

She sensed something was amiss, her own worries momentarily forgotten as she watched the store’s manager, conversing in hushed tones with an unknown man.

“Why are we here?” She asked him with a sudden turn he did not expect. His demeanour was unreadable, as always, but she hoped for some clarity in his response. Yoongi looked at her, his gaze steady and reassuring.

“Your Eomma said you would fancy a new set of pearls like hers.” He smiled softly, caressing her cheek with his right hand, Y/N sensing the balance of warmth of it and the coldness of his rings he had worn.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her scepticism evident. “But my birthday is not for another month. Why so soon?”

Yoongi chuckled, a sound that seemed to ease the tension in the room just a bit. “Consider it an early surprise. You can wear them at the wedding—”

“Your birthday is coming, we should talk about that instead—” she interrupted him, her tone still possessed a mix of frustration and confusion. Why would they talk about her birthday which is not for another month?

Yoongi’s smile faded slightly, and he glanced around the store, his eyes momentarily clouded with concern before he masked it again. “I just wanted to do something special for you, that is all. You have been doing so well, Dove.”

By doing well means, no tantrums, no screams, no broken vases thrown his way and they are living as a husband and wife, not just in the name.  It was his way of acknowledging the fragile peace they had managed to maintain, the delicate balance that kept their world from shattering. He was selfish enough to consider himself making progress with her.

Y/N sighed, feeling the weight of his words. “What would you fancy for your birthday?” She asked carefully.

Yoongi paused, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. He chuckled a little before he leaned down to press his lips softly against hers for a moment, his hand slipping down to her belly.

“You know,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “I’ve been thinking… about something we already talked about—”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?” Her gaze slipped down to his large hand on her belly, awaiting the worst.

He took a breath, his gaze steady as he looked into her eyes, while his forehead rested on hers. “I know I said that it will not help anything, but I would love to have—”

“Not here—” she said way too quickly, her voice tinged with urgency. “Let us not talk about it here, okay?”

His expression shifted, understanding, but a bit sad as his first thoughts led him to rejection.

“I am sorry, this is not the right place, —” he replied, his voice lowering to a whisper as if he feared that even speaking about it might attract unwanted attention. “But I want you to know it is on my mind, Dove.”

Y/N felt a flutter in her chest, a conflict brewing within her. The idea of a child, of a future that seemed so distant. 

“Can we talk at home?” She asked carefully. The tension in his shoulders eased, she wanted to talk about it, and his heart started to beam.

“Deal. Let us just find you those pearls for now, hm?” A little peck on his lips was enough confirmation that she was more than ready to pick up some jewellery and leave.

As they moved through the store, the vibrant displays of jewellery momentarily distracted them from the weight of their conversation. Y/N couldn’t shake the thought of Yoongi’s words, though. She knew she needed to play her role. However, she was not ready to make such a big sacrifice for the taste of freedom. She had a different scenario in her head.

“What do you think about these pearls?” She gestured towards a stunning strand that caught the light just right, reflecting an array of colours.

Yoongi’s gaze followed her gesture, and he leaned closer to examine the pearls. “They are beautiful. They remind me of you—classic and timeless beauty,” he said, his tone playful but sincere.

She laughed softly, the tension of their earlier conversation easing. “You just say that because I am wearing a white dress.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “But I mean it.” He smiled at her, his eyes reflecting the love he felt for her with the hope that perhaps when they returned home, they could explore the depths of their future dreams together. Perhaps.

The private dining room was filled with the warm glow of candlelight, the scent of delicious food wafting through the air. The large table was set with an assortment of dishes, each more appetizing than the last.

Y/N glanced around, taking in the sight of the family gathered together, a rare moment these days when everyone is put to work. Each member of the family had a role to play, each one integral to the operation and survival of the Min clan.

She and Seokjin run around the hospital doing what they can to heal and help those in need. These past weeks were especially busy after several raids on the warehouses the Min clan owns.

Taehyung worked his magic, covering every single trace that would make the whole syndicate fall.

Jungkook, seated beside Jimin who has been running the hotel perfectly, took a deep breath. “The Min soldiers are ready. We have increased patrols around the warehouses and fortified our defences. I have got the best man on it, Yoongi-hyung. We will not let anything happen again like last time.”

“Yoongi nodded, his expression serious. “Good. We cannot afford any more breaches—”

Jungkook nodded firmly. “I will.”

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, his usually cheerful demeanour replaced with a hard edge. “I have been tracking down leads on who’s responsible for the raids. We have collected some old debts and sent a clear message.”

“It has been happening way too often lately,—” Namjoon cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to the whole table.

“It is the peak of the trade season, innit?” Yoongi mused out loud. Not bothered by that at the moment, he knows he can rely on his men. His wife sticking the food around with her chopsticks, pretending to eat from the barely filled marble dish bothered him more.

They have yet to return to their conversation but that is not what occupies her mind now. Yoongi yet again wondered whether her silence meant that she was considering what he said or being tortured by that thought.

“How are things over at the sanatorium?” The right-hand man raised the question when he cleared his throat, hoping to get the young Buin to talk about the sector that was entrusted to her. Under the watchful eye of Doctor Kim Seokjin.

Yoongi, seated at the head of the table, glanced at her with a small smile. Despite the tension of the past weeks, moments like this reminded him of why they fought so hard. He reached under the table, finding her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then, with a gentle, almost tender gesture, he picked up a piece of grilled fish and placed it on her plate.

“We have zero deaths so far, thanks to—” Seokjin’s voice became a blur when she noticed his hand squeezing hers.

“Eat up, Dove—” Yoongi said softly, ignoring Seokjin’s report, his eyes filled with concern. Xiaoli looked around the table with wide eyes, still getting used to the boisterous dynamics of the group.

“Are you feeling fine, Unnie?” She pried, eating a piece of kimchi while doing so.  “You have been working a lot lately.”

“Just peachy, pumpkin,” Y/N replied with a bright smile, trying to mask the fatigue she felt. She noticed the way Yoongi’s brow furrowed slightly at her response, a subtle reminder of their shared worries, but she chose to brush it off.

Hoseok, sitting across from her, leaned in with a teasing grin. “Peachy? You have been working more hours than Jin-hyung at the hospital, Buin—” he expressed his concern.

“And I love working—”  Y/N began, her voice light, but she was quickly interrupted by Jin, who feigned horror.

“Yes, yes and yes, that does not change that you should take a little break.” Jin insisted, his tone dramatic as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“Oh shut up, you do need me, Dr Kim.”  Y/N shot back playfully, her smile growing wider as she tried to lighten the mood.

“Touché,” Jin replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But that does not mean you should work yourself into the ground. You are not invincible, Buin.”

Jungkook leaned forward, a teasing glint in his eye. “Yeah, the last thing we need is for our favourite sister to pass out in the middle of surgery because she did not eat breakfast!” He noticed. Of course he did. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at him playfully. “I can manage just fine. I am not collapsing anytime soon. I promise!”

“Not with that attitude,” Namjoon said, leaning back with an amused expression. “But let us not test the limits of your endurance, okay?”

“Eat up, Dove. No more arguments,” Yoongi said firmly, though his voice softened at the end.

Y/N looked at the fish, then back up at him. “I will, but you all need to stop treating me like I am fragile, at least I am not that fragile anymore—” her voice fell down at the end of the sentence.

Nobody forgot, even though it seemed like they did. The scar on her neck is yet to fade and smooth into her skin. Before she managed to slip to those thoughts, Jimin’s voice echoed through the room.

“How about a spa day, girls?” Y/N chuckled lightly, glancing around the table, endorsing that kind of domesticity. But when she looks at her sister and sees a woman she never was before, it makes her heart ache.

October through November 1938

Fresh off the boat from China, her wide-eyed innocence was observable by many others. The scent of hay mingled with the musky aroma of leather and sweat as she walked through the stables, admiring the majestic kladrubers behind the iron bars. Reaching through them, her hands deftly brushed against their sleek coats.

She came here to forget about all the screaming that was happening behind closed doors of the room that was “politely” offered to them. Her father wanted to come home, with her sister preferably, but the young Korean Kkangpae just had to be so madly in love with Y/N that he was not willing to let her just go. At least, that is what Xiaoli observed from behind the scenes.

The younger sister did not know how it came to this nor what was his business with her father, and she will most likely never know the whole truth nor she will remember. She was not like her sister Y/N. Xiaoli knew very well that she must marry a wealthy mafia lord, a strong ally to her father at best. Hence, she made her peace with it since the first time she bled and became a woman.

The time was ticking and knowing that Y/N got to get higher education shifted the focus on her instead. Xiaoli was moulded to be the perfect, obedient and dutiful wife Y/N would never become. Not because she was not capable but because her sister had different ambitions. Ambitions that Xiaoli believed would kill her and many others. And once, she understood them. That proved to be no longer the case.

Y/N wanted to be a doctor, she wanted to help people, heal people and Xiaoli understood that was the persona she grew in.

She admired her sister for her strength and resilience. It would not take the man her sister is engaged to a second more to charm Xiaoli - in the right circumstances. He was handsome, successful, and certainly very intelligent as he managed to put the whole Triad on their feet by swaying Y/N.

The scar made him even more intriguing in Xiaoli’s eyes. There was something about the respect that vibrated through the room once he stepped in. She was not allowed to attend the meeting or meet her sister that day, and per her mother’s words, ‘it would only hurt her seeing you’.

Well, it definitely hurt Xiaoli. They spent very little time together these past years and she missed her dearly. The happiness and pride she felt on the day Y/N finally graduated was short-lived; their aunt passed away and even she was not stupid enough to not realise what it meant.

Sitting at the breakfast table in their family mansion back in Hong Kong, a rageful scream reverberated through the walls. The news that Y/N took the chance and ran for the hills.

“She barely reaches your chin, how come you were not able to stop her!”

The echoes of the scream seemed to linger in the opulent dining room, bouncing off the intricate wooden panelling and crystal chandeliers.

Xiaoli’s mother stood at the head of the table, her face twisted with fury and disbelief. The usually composed matriarch of the family was unrecognizable, her controlled demeanour shattered by the news of Y/N’s escape.

Xiaoli’s father, Wang Zemo sat in his chair with a deep frown etched on his face, his hands clenched into fists. He was a man of few words, but his silence was more intimidating than any outburst. The tension in the room was suffocating, each family member drowning in their own thoughts and fears.

The Lieutenant stood at the door frame to the dining room they were gathered in. Trembling under Wang Zemo’s hard glance.

“We did not think she would go that far,” he muttered, his voice shaky, afraid to lose his head. What he meant is that they trusted her sister to not do anything like that.

Xiaoli’s heart ached back then. She knew Y/N had been unhappy with the arranged marriage, but she hadn’t realized the depths of her despair. She admired her sister’s courage to defy their parents and the entire Triad’s expectations, but she also feared for her safety. Running away from such powerful families was no small feat, and the repercussions could be deadly.

“Stupid girl—” Wang Zemo scoffed at his oldest child’s incompetence to meet the expectations.

“She jeopardized everything!” Wang Zemo repeated, his voice rising with each syllable. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table, the wood creaking under the pressure.

Xiaoli’s mother placed a calming hand on Wang Zemo’s shoulder, though her expression was one of thinly veiled panic.

“We need to stay calm,” she urged, her voice steady but strained. “Anger will not bring her back.” Wang Zemo shook off her hand, standing up abruptly.

He turned to the Lieutenant, his eyes narrowing. “What have you done to find her?”

The Lieutenant stammered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “We have mobilized all available men. We are taking every possible lead, and every contact she might have. But... but she has been very careful, sir. It is almost like she planned this way ahead..”

‘Of course she did,’ Xiaoli thought, feeling a mix of pride and sorrow for her sister. Y/N had always been meticulous and determined. She would not have run away on a whim; she would have made sure she had a solid plan.

“Not good enough,” Wang Zemo growled. “I want results. And I want them now—”

“Your fucking failure reflects on all of us!” 

Xiaoli could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but she blinked them back, refusing to show any weakness. She had to be strong, for her sister and for herself.

Xiaoli’s mother flinched at the vulgarity, her mask of composure slipping for just a moment. The Lieutenant’s face turned a shade paler, and he nodded vigorously, desperate to appease his furious boss.

“Father,” Xiaoli spoke up, her voice surprisingly firm. “Maybe we should consider why Y/N ran away. Forcing her back might just not be the answer.”

Wang Zemo’s eyes snapped to her, his expression one of disbelief mixed with anger. “Are you questioning me, Xiaoli?”

“No, Father,” she said quickly but then gathered her courage. “I just think... there must be a better way. Y/N is smart. She would not do this without a good reason. Maybe we should try to understand her, rather than just bring her back by force.” She rephrased herself.

A heavy silence filled the room, everyone waiting for Lǎodà’s reaction. He stared at Xiaoli for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice surprisingly calm but dangerously low.

“You do not have the same sinful intentions as your sister, daughter, right?”

“Of course not.” She forced a smile.

The conversation ended before it managed to even start. Xiaoli’s voice was never heard once she spoke up, and the most devastating was that not even her older sister could advise their father or her mother. The only woman that the hot-headed Wang Zemo ever listened to was their dear auntie, but she is no longer here to prevent him from the madness he is planning to do.

There is no one to make Wang Zemo see reason anymore.

The warm sun filtered through the slats of the stable, casting playful shadows across the hay-strewn floor. There he stood, at the very edge, her heart racing as she took in the sight of him. His strong form bent over one of the kladrubers, grooming the horse with gentle precision. Xiaoli quietly watched him from a distance, adored in tailored high-waisted trousers, in a rich earth tone, paired with a fitted, button-down shirt. His choice of leather riding boots suggests functionality and style, perfect for a day at the stables.

Xiaoli’s heart raced as she observed Kim Taehyung’s deft movements. She admired not just his looks but the quiet confidence he exuded—a stark contrast to the chaos of her family. His demeanour and interaction with his brothers.

They have been talking. 

Matter of fact, they have been talking daily. Sometimes from far away, it felt like they were talking more than casually. Xiaoli cherished the moments she spent with Taehyung, often finding solace in their conversations at the stables, sun room or dining hall.

They would talk about everything—his aspirations, her dreams, the horses they adored. He shared stories of his family’s dynamics, highlighting the playful banter with his brothers, while she opened up about the weight of her own familial expectations, carefully steering the discussions to remain light-hearted. But he noticed her dissatisfaction. 

Taehyung looked up, a warm smile spreading across his face, instantly lighting up his sharp features when he saw her standing near him.

“Hey there, angel” he said, his tone inviting, “Want to help?”

Xiaoli nodded, her pulse quickening. As she moved beside him, the connection sparked an unexpected flutter in her chest. There was something about him that felt safe, a reprieve from her tumultuous life.

Their fingers brushed as they reached for the grooming brush at the same time, and Taehyung chuckled softly.

“I don’t bite–”

Xiaoli’s cheeks flushed, and she laughed lightly, feeling an ease she had not known in ages. The playful banter continued, their laughter echoing softly against the stable walls, and for a moment, the weight of her family’s expectations and her father’s wrath slipped away.

“Would you give me the honour to accompany you riding today, angel?” Xiaoli hesitated, glancing down at her hands.

“I wish I could, Taehyung-sshi, but I cannot today—” Taehyung’s smile faltered for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with understanding.

“What is the matter, dear?” Xiaoli bit her lip, avoiding his gaze.

“It is just... my father’s been on edge lately, and I don’t want to risk making things worse. Truth to be told, he is not very keen on spending my leisure time with you.”

Taehyung’s brow furrowed with concern, and he took a step closer, his voice softening.

“I do not fancy your father either, but he also does not fancy any of my clan.”

Xiaoli nodded, understanding the unspoken tension that simmered beneath their lighthearted exchanges. “I know, but that makes it all the more complicated.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “You deserve to enjoy yourself, regardless of what he thinks. Life is too short for shadows.” He mused.

“I know—” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Spend it with me.” 

He said softly but rather abruptly, closing the distance between them. Her eyes searched for any signs of foul play but found none. Her breathing became shaky and her mind started to spin around all the scenarios that her father would be starring in as the villain. Xiaoli’s heart raced at his words, caught between desire and duty.

“What?—” She asked, shocked. Xiaoli took a deep breath, the weight of the moment heavy on her chest.

“Taehyung, I appreciate how you feel. I truly do. But I must be honest with you.” He tilted his head, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

“I think of you as a friend, someone…someone I can confide in, but…but nothing more,” she continued stammering, although her voice remained gentle. “With everything going on, I need to focus on my family and my responsibilities. I thought you understood that–”

Taehyung’s expression softened, and he nodded slowly, masking his disappointment and internal anger.

“Friends it is.” He said through gritted teeth. The moment hung in the air, tinged with unspoken emotions, yet Xiaoli felt a bittersweet relief wash over her. In a world where love could be both a luxury and a burden, she valued the connection they shared, however fleeting it was.

Unfortunately for her, Kim Taehyung’s intentions are rooted far too deep to be classified as friendship.

“Tomorrow, we shall go take this boy for a ride, what you say, angel?”

Taehyung’s voice dripped with a charm that both thrilled and unnerved her.

Xiaoli hesitated, a flicker of unease creeping into her heart. “I—”

“Come on, it shall be fun! Just you and me,” he urged, his eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and something deeper, something she couldn’t quite place.

She took a breath, sensing the weight of his expectations.

“Of course–”

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, the quiet ticking of a clock echoing in the background. She had written to Y/N again. Despite everything, despite the unspoken rules the Korean Kkangpae established - as per Taehyung’s words.

She had a strong feeling that something was going to go down the hill, and she expressed this in her plea letters to her sister who is being held in a place called the Sanctuary. Nobody ever knew where this place was hidden. Hidden from all those who wished for the downfall of the Min empire the scarred leader was extending slowly.

The words flowed onto the page, frantic and desperate - whatever happens, I shall not be able to control it. I feel like the choices will be taken away from me, dear sister.

But as she folded the paper, her heart ached. She had no idea if she could send it. No idea if she would ever be able to.

A soft knock at the door startled her, and before she could even respond, Taehyung entered, his presence filling the room like a storm. His sharp gaze immediately fell on the letters.

“We have talked about this, Xiaoli, you know that that is forbidden,” he asked, his voice smooth, almost too calm. The Taehyung she was seeing now was different from the one she met when she first laid foot onto the Min grounds. He has changed, and it was her rejection that led him to show his true colours to her.

Xiaoli’s heart skipped a beat. “I just wish to tell her I miss her,” she whispered, almost pleading. His hands quickly unfolded the paper she had laid in front of her, reading the words. That is when Xiaoli knew she was destined to be doomed.

“She is my sister, Taehyung. I cannot just abandon her like this.”

“You can,” he said, his voice suddenly hard. “And you will for now. She needs to adjust to her life as Buin of this clan.”

Xiaoli’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening at the mention of Buin, the title that now belonged to her sister, the role that would tether Y/N even deeper to the Kkangpae.

“I can see that you are continuing this insanity that your dear sister exhibits too. Disobedience must be running in your family, but we shall change that soon.” 

Taehyung stepped closer, his presence engulfing her, the scent of his cologne overpowering the faint smell of the letter’s ink. His fingers brushed the paper on the desk, now crumpled and discarded, and Xiaoli’s breath hitched at the coldness in his touch.

“What are you talking about again Taehyung? I thought we were done speaking about this topic.” Taehyung’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the air thickening with the tension between them.

“I shall see you in the morning, and I hope that a good sleep will bring you to your senses.” He said, his voice lowering, a cold warning hanging in the silence. Xiaoli’s heart raced, a wave of frustration and helplessness flooding through her.

“I will not let you break me. No is a no—” she raised her voice when he was about to leave the room. She lifted her chin, refusing to back down.

“Nor will you break my sister, mark my words Kim Taehyung, and be sure to tell them to that leader of yours.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Taehyung’s lips curled into a cold smile.

“You love me, Xiaoli. You do—” his bold and explicit words sent a tidal wave through her body.

“The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can live without the weight of that foolishness.”

“Good morning, angel.”

Truth to be spoken, Xiaoli was afraid to not come and a part of her knew that he would have his way nonetheless. Today, she was determined to put an end to Kim Taehyung's attempts to groom her.

Before she could reply, Xiaoli felt his lips brushing against hers, soft yet demanding. The world around them faded, leaving only the warmth of their connection, the lingering tension of unspoken words. She found herself responding,telling herself, just this once, curiosity mingling with a twinge of fear. She did not understand what was happening. Did she not make her standing in their relationship clear last night? His vulgarity shocked her. 

The air was crisp and cool in November, a hint of frost glimmering on the ground as Xiaoli and Taehyung stood close in the stable, the warmth of their earlier kiss lingering like a sweet echo. The horses shifted in their stalls, unaware of the tension that had just shifted between the two of them.

The next moment, she was observing his muscular hands saddling the horse for her, still not understanding what happened. Too shocked to speak, to even comment or reply good morning to him.

Taehyung’s posture was relaxed, but beneath the surface, an insidious obsession twisted within him. He guided his horse closer to hers, a gleam in his eye that hinted at the darkness lurking beneath his charming façade.

“Have you thought about my proposal, my beloved?” He asked, curious. His proposal was rather sudden and the change in him very obvious. He was not hiding his feelings for her anymore. At least that is how he perceived the situation.

“Taehyung,-” she called out softly, watching as he approached, his breath misting in the cold air. His usual confident stride seemed tempered by the season’s sombre beauty.

“I am not sure if I can fully embrace this. I told you so–” she admitted, her gaze unwavering. He lifted his eyesight to meet hers. Taehyung, mounted on his sleek black horse, maintained a close pace beside Xiaoli, who rode a chestnut mare. The crisp air was filled with the sounds of hoofbeats crunching through the snow.

“Do you feel that?” Taehyung asked, his breath visible in the frosty air. “It is as if the world is ours alone.”

Xiaoli glanced at him, warmth blooming in her chest. “Nature is certainly beautiful,” she replied, the thrill of the ride mixing with the tension that still lingered after their kiss.

“Just like you,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making her heart race. “I want to share moments like this with you forever.”

“Taehyung…” She whispered, her disapproval evident in her voice.

“Xiaoli, beloved—” he said, voice smooth yet edged with intensity, “imagine a life where you belong to me, where no one can take you away. You would never have to worry about your father or anyone else. Just us.” His smile was wide, but there was a predator’s hunger behind it.

“Did we not share good times together, angel?” She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Taehyung, this is not what I want. I already have obligations—” 

He interrupted, his tone sharpening.

“I can become your obligation, would you not fancy that over marrying a stranger?” He stressed out.

“We have our lives, our families, and that kiss—”

“Was it not real, my dear?” he interrupted, a spark of frustration flashing in his eyes.

“Uncalled for!” She raised her voice.

“You cannot just kiss me, Taehyung, we talked about us being friends just yesterday, did we not?” she said, trying to find the right words. Taehyung’s expression softened, and he nodded slowly, acknowledging the weight of her words.

But as they rode deeper into the woods, Xiaoli could not shake the feeling that something had shifted—not just between her and Taehyung, but within herself. The kiss replayed in her mind, its intensity causing her to question her feelings.

The snowflakes swirled around them, creating an enchanting atmosphere that felt almost dreamlike. But beneath the surface, Xiaoli knew this was not going to end well for her.

“Is this yet another strategic move of your Kkangpae?” She blurted out. Taehyung’s expression darkened at her words, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something more intense.

“And if it is?” he cut in, anger and hurt lacing his tone. “I am offering you everything, and you are turning me down for what? Some semblance of duty?”

“The future I want does not include you!” she cried, her voice trembling. They cannot be friends, she has decided that it will be better to lose him than fall in line. The reality of their situation hung heavily between them, each word slicing deeper than the last.

“You do not have to part with your sister ever again!” Her mind stops for a fleeting moment, thinking about this for some peculiar proposal.

“You think this will make me fall in love with you, do you not?” she spat, the bitterness on her tongue sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room.

His lips curled into a cold, controlled smile, the kind of smile that made her skin crawl. “Love,” he murmured, getting closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “Love will come, in time. Whether you want it or not.”

Her body tensed, every fibre of her being fighting against the reality of it all. This is not love, she thought, her mind screaming with the agony of the truth.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, a mix of desperation and determination flaring within them. “You do not even know what you want yet, Xiaoli. You are running from a feeling that can change everything–”

“You make me feel alive,” he continued, searching her eyes for understanding.

“Taehyung, I cannot—” her tears spilt over, her voice losing its power.

“Just trust me,” he urged, his fingers brushing her arm. “Give in.”

“What are you—”

In a swift motion, he pushed his horse forward, pressing against her side. Xiaoli instinctively jerked her reins, trying to regain control. The sudden jolt sent her horse rearing back, and she lost her balance, falling hard to the ground. Pain exploded in her head as it connected with the earth, a sharp crack reverberating in the stillness around them.

Taehyung dismounted swiftly, panic lacing his features for a fleeting moment that luck was not on his side, that she fell harder than he wanted her to. But before you could blink it was all replaced by a chilling calmness.

“Everything shall be alright, my beloved. I shall make it all better,” he murmured, his voice soft yet chillingly possessive.

“I love you.”

The world spun into a blur of pain and darkness, Xiaoli’s last coherent thought was the cold touch of Taehyung’s hand, his voice a chilling promise in her ear.

When she woke, her head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. Her surroundings were unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the snowy forest. The room was sterile, the air heavy with the scent of antiseptics. Her body felt restrained, bound to a cold, metal table. Panic surged through her veins as she struggled to move, but the restraints held firm.

Blinking slowly, she tried to make sense of her surroundings, the sterile white walls closing in on her. Kim Seokjin, one of the seven, stood at the foot of the bed, his face an unreadable mask. Dressed in a pristine white coat, he exuded an unsettling calmness. The tools of his trade lay meticulously arranged on a nearby table.

Xiaoli knew that he was the family’s doctor, but she did not understand what she was doing in his practice.

“Doctor Kim... what am I doing here?" Her voice was a fragile whisper when she addressed the older male, barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

He approached her slowly, his eyes cold and clinical. “There is no need to be afraid, dear. I will make it all better for you now.”

Strapped to the bed, Xiaoli’s attempts to move were futile. Panic surged through her veins as Seokjin prepared the instruments, his movements deliberate and precise. Tears streamed down her cheeks, the horror of her situation sinking in with every passing second.

“Is this what you did to your fiancée?!” Xiaoli remembers the talks of the young female kicking and screaming any moment she had the chance to, just to make it harder for Doctor Kim in public, making everybody know that she was here against her will.

Seokjin paused, a flicker of emotion crossing his otherwise stoic face. For a brief moment, his eyes softened, memories perhaps surfacing in his mind. But the moment was fleeting, replaced quickly by his professional detachment.

“Her thoughts were just as confused as yours,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But in the end, it was necessary. For her, and for us.”

The drastic change in her demeanour did not go unnoticed, yet everybody chose to ignore that, calling it her “enlightenment.”

Xiaoli’s heart raced faster, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. “No, please. You do not have to do this. I can... I can leave. I shall not tell anyone that this ever happened.”

“You would leave your dear older sister here when we are offering you life within our ranks?”

His words struck a nerve, the mention of her sister pulling at Xiaoli’s deepest fears. “My sister…,” she stammered, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. She couldn’t abandon her, but she couldn’t accept this twisted fate either. Y/N would want her to fight this.

Seokjin’s eyes hardened, his patience thinning. “This is not a negotiation, Xiaoli. Your sister is safe, and she will remain so as long as you comply.”

In that unfortunate situation, Xiaoli did not know that there was no way that they would do something to Y/N, how could they? She ought to be the queen of them all. They cannot risk it going the wrong way.

A sob escaped her lips, the weight of her predicament crashing down on her. “Please, Doctor Kim. There must be another way.”

“You sound just like her. Your pleas are almost identical—” Seokjin’s expression softened, but only slightly.

“There is not. This is for your own good and for the good of the family. You will understand in time that Taehyung-sshi is the best thing that could ever come your way, child.”

Xiaoli’s tears flowed freely as Seokjin moved closer, the cold metal of his instruments glinting under the harsh lights. Her mind raced, searching for any possible escape, but the reality of her situation was inescapable.

“Please...,” she whispered one last time, her voice breaking.

Seokjin’s hand rested gently on her forehead, a mockery of comfort. “Hush now, Xiaoli. It will all be over soon.”

As the procedure began, Xiaoli’s cries echoed in the sterile room, a haunting symphony of despair. “Please...,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I cannot do this.”

Seokjin approached her with a syringe in hand, his expression one of detached professionalism. The needle glinted ominously in the harsh light, a harbinger of the nightmare to come. “This will help you relax,” he said, his tone clinical and devoid of empathy.

Xiaoli’s heart pounded in her chest as the needle pierced her skin, a sharp sting that quickly gave way to a spreading numbness. Her vision blurred at the edges, the room tilting and swaying as the sedative took hold. Despite the fog settling over her mind, the panic continued to surge through her veins.

As the sedative dulled her senses, Xiaoli’s thoughts became fragmented, and disjointed. Memories of her childhood with Y/N flashed before her eyes, moments of laughter and love now tainted by the fear of losing herself. She tried to cling to those memories, to hold on to the essence of who she was, but they slipped through her fingers like sand.

“Why are you even doing this?” she managed to murmur, her voice slurred by the sedative. “Please... I will do anything...”

“Because you were not ready to accept his love and the love of this clan, my dear,” Seokjin replied, his voice eerily calm. Xiaoli’s thoughts grew increasingly disjointed, a chaotic jumble of fear, pain, and fragmented memories.

Seokjin’s voice broke through the haze, a steady drone that contrasted sharply with the chaos in her mind. “You will be better soon. You will see things clearly and understand your place.”

“Pray for your sister to not need this.”  Xiaoli’s mind shut down in a desperate bid for self-preservation. The last thing she saw was Taehyung’s face, his expression a mixture of triumph and possession before everything faded to black.

Her head was secured tightly after she lost consciousness,  Seokjin carefully lifted her upper eyelid, exposing the soft tissue beneath. The point of entry is the thin, bony orbital roof, a structure that protects the eye within its socket. He is trying to do this without having to opt for the leucotome method.

Inserting the slender leucotome, just above the eyeball he severed the white matter fibres of her prefrontal cortex, methodically disconnecting the very essence of her thoughts and emotions, enough to just reorganize her persona into something she was not. Less capable of resistance, less capable to decide for herself.

“This better work, Seokjin, I cannot lose her.” His words cut through the air, a desperate plea as his gaze fixed on Xiaoli’s still form. She had to come back as the woman he wanted—obedient, loyal, bound to him in every way.

Nobody would ever notice. After all, Xiaoli was never opposed to being a wife of a high profile mafia member in comparison to her sister.

Her thoughts, her dreams, her fears—all of them slipping away, restructured, reshaped. The woman Taehyung had demanded would emerge from this, but at what cost?

Xiaoli would no longer fight him. She would no longer question him. In time, she would look to him, and him alone, for purpose.

Her body would heal; the bruising would fade, and the scar on her scalp would eventually blend, after all, everybody will think that it needed to be done after her unfortunate fall from the horse.

“If not, I will do it on the other side too, but that is risky” Seokjin murmured, but even he wasn’t sure if he believed it. Doing it with only one side was just as risky. The woman she had been might not return, but the woman Taehyung desired most certainly would.

“Why?” Taeyhung voiced. 

“You do not want her to be a vegetable, do you?” 

Xiaoli, the girl who would fight for her sister to be free of the notorious Korean Kkangpae Min, would cease to exist.

The rest would simply be a matter of time.

The next time she wished to write to her sister, innocently, Taehyung’s hand shot out, swiftly taking hold of the letters and ripping them from her grasp before she could finish her sentence. The paper fluttered to the floor, torn and lifeless.

“You cannot write to her, Xiaoli,” he said, each word deliberate. Xiaoli could not shake off the familiarity of this moment. As if she was reliving something from before.

“You belong here now, with me, love. You owe everything to this clan. To me.”

Her throat tightened, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to hold onto the fragments of herself that still fought to resist. “Alright, I understand.”

“She is safe,” he said, his voice cold and final, “and if she is to remain so, she will need to embrace her new life, just as you will. You will have no more distractions, no more ties to the past. Your sister will adjust, just like you did.”

She was a shell that smiled when expected, nodded in approval when necessary, and followed Taehyung’s every command without question. She was no longer a woman who sought freedom for her sister, who fought against the weight of the world. No, she was now simply his—his to guide, to possess, to mould into the role that had been chosen for her.

The pain of her sister’s struggle was no longer her burden to bear, not when she had been given a new, more fitting role to play. She belonged here now, she understood that—at least, she told herself she did. The clan had welcomed her with open arms, and Taehyung’s presence was both commanding and comforting. He was the anchor to her existence now, and she had no choice but to submit, for it was the only life she had left.

The day of their wedding arrived, the final step in the transformation of Xiaoli into the woman she had been shaped to be. The air was thick with anticipation, the ornate halls of the family compound dressed in rich colours, the scent of incense mingling with the opulence of the setting. Guests, powerful men and women from every corner of the clan gathered in hushed reverence, all eyes on the bride as she stepped into the room.

The silk fabric, lustrous ivory, was adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the flickering light, each thread whispering secrets of elegance and heritage. Her attire was simple yet breathtaking—a testament to timeless beauty. Even though it tinged Y/N with sadness that her sister chose to wear a Korean wedding dress instead of showing off their culture. It seemed that they even took the country out of her too.

The ceremony was a blur, just like everything else. The vows, the prayers, the promises—they all felt distant, detached. There was no room for anything more. Not when her thoughts, her emotions, had been so carefully erased, so perfectly reshaped to fit this role. She loved him, because she was told to do so.

As they left the altar together, Taehyung’s hand around hers, there was a finality to the moment that left her breathless. The gold band on her finger, heavy with meaning, designed with filigree — an oval, dark red ruby sat at its centre, glowing with an almost ominous warmth.

She glanced upon her sister sitting next to her husband once the ceremony was almost at its end. Her hand was sliced with a knife, Y/N, now the Min Buin, watched in silence, her expression unreadable. Xiaoli saw only the coldness of a woman who had embraced her new role.

She recited her pledge of loyalty to them and Y/N could not help herself but sigh. She could not reverse Xiaoli’s fate. The girl she knew was long gone and the woman she became was not who Y/N knew. Although, that will not make her love her less.

Her gaze flickered to Xiaoli, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or guilt—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Xiaoli’s bloodied trembling hand remained pressed against Y/N’s belly, a symbol of sacrifice, for what was to come. Y/N looked at her for a long moment before her hands gripped Xiaoli’s to reassure her for the last time that she was here. Min Yoongi’s watchful eyes did not miss this slight change in both of them, but for now, he is determined to let it slip. 

“Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min.”

“Lǎodà Wang wishes to speak to you, Min Buin.” Y/N has set down the cup of her today’s dose of the herbal tea and breathed in, frustrated. She sat there for a moment longer, staring at the delicate ceramic cup.

“You can tell him what you usually do, Xiu — he can schedule an audience with me whilst my husband is present—” she began. Her voice was steady, but tinged with the faintest thread of frustration as she glanced at the delicate ceramic cup in front of her. The soft scent of the herbal tea filled the air, but it couldn’t soothe the growing unease tightening in her chest.

Xiu was her father’s maid since she was a child, hence she hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding. “Min Buin, this matter seems urgent. Lǎodà Wang insists on seeing you alone.”

“I have no interest in seeing him alone, Xiu—” She had kept her distance from him ever since her marriage to Yoongi.She did not protest when his command was to limit the interaction between the father and the sisters.

“I must insist, Min Buin.” Xiu repeated, her voice calm but firm. It was rare for Xiu to speak with such authority, but there was something in her demeanour that suggested the urgency of this matter was not to be ignored.

Y/N exhaled slowly, her thoughts spinning. “Alright, tell him to meet me in Kkangpae’s office. Off you go.”

Xiu bowed her head slightly, her expression unreadable, and then turned to leave the room without a word. Y/N watched her go, her mind whirling with unease. The mention of Lǎodà Wang was enough to unsettle her, but the insistence on meeting alone only deepened her suspicion. There was something off about this, something she couldn’t quite place.

Once Xiu disappeared from her sight, Y/N rose from her seat and walked toward the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds of the hotel.

Why now? Why is her father so desperate to speak with her alone?

Xiaoli and Taehyung have been wed and there is no tie to him now. As a matter of fact, he can set a sail back to China, anytime now. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Time was slipping away.

She moved to gather herself for the meeting with her father. The weight of everything she had set in motion was starting to press on her, but she couldn’t let it show—not yet. She needed her mind sharp and clear, and she had no time to waste. But Y/N could see the sharpness in her sister’s eyes as she hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“What is it, pumpkin?” Y/N’s voice was calm, but the undercurrent of frustration and unease was evident.

“Are you sure you are ready to do this now?”

Y/N finally turned to face her, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. She studied her sister for a moment, taking in the subtle shift in Xiaoli’s demeanour, the way her posture had become more rigid as if she too could feel the weight of the coming confrontation. Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Are you?” Xiaoli hesitated, but nodded, solemnly.

“I can come with you,” she suggested. Y/N’s gaze softened for just a moment.

“No,” Y/N said firmly, her voice steady. “This is not your burden, Xiaoli.”

Xiaoli nodded slowly, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “But it is, innit?” She stepped forward, her voice dropping to a murmur. “This is everyone’s fight. He has always been able to divide us,—”

The truth of it was there in her words, but she refused to acknowledge the vulnerability creeping up her spine. She could not afford to waver.

“Everything will be okay, pumpkin—” Y/N gave a final, lingering glance to her sister.

“—Ha-sun?” She called. The soft sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway before the door creaked open revealing the young maid.

“Min Buin?”

Y/N didn’t turn immediately, her eyes still fixed on the sprawling grounds below, though her thoughts were far from the peaceful view.

“Get me Jeon Jungkook, armed.” Ha-sun’s eyes widened slightly at the command, but she nodded quickly, understanding the gravity in Y/N’s tone.

“And call for Kkangpae Min, say he needs to return at once.”

Without a word, she turned and left the room, her footsteps retreating down the hall.

The situation when Xiaoli and Taehyung got engaged was already volatile, but this—this felt like something else entirely. The tension was palpable, thick with layers of unspoken threats and promises.

Y/N moved toward the door, ready to face her father, Xiaoli’s voice suddenly stopped her in her tracks.

“Wait,” Xiaoli called out, standing up from the chair where she had been sitting. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement as she eyed her sister’s outfit.

Xiaoli walked up to her, raising an eyebrow. “Are you seriously wearing trousers?” she asked, her tone dripping with incredulity. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her patience already stretched thin.

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

Xiaoli crossed her arms, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. “It is just… you are about to face the wrath of Lǎodà Wang, and you are wearing pants? Is it not a little… aggressive?”

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes as she straightened her posture, her expression shifting to one of mock seriousness.

“I am about to go confront the man who ruined our lives for years, Xiaoli. Trust me, these pants are the least of his problems.”

“What does a father have to do to see his daughter here?!” Y/N’s jaw tightened.

“I assume you have a reason for requesting to be in my presence.”

The air was thick with tension, the scent of aged wood and leather mingling with the faint traces of Yoongi’s cologne lingering in the corners.

The walls were lined with bookshelves, the shelves packed with legal documents, expensive liquor bottles, and the occasional framed photograph of her and the Min clan family men. But tonight, it was the man in front of her that commanded all her attention.

Her father, Wang Zemo, stood at the far end of the room, facing the large mahogany desk where Yoongi usually worked. He was still as imposing as ever—his tall, broad frame overshadowing the delicate space, his dark eyes glinting with something she couldn’t quite read.

He turned to face her short form only for his eyes to narrow with disbelief.

“What is this?” His voice was sharp. Y/N met his gaze, standing her ground, confused at what exactly her father was referring to.

She stood in the doorway, an almost ethereal figure, wearing a beige, floral-print qipao with short sleeves and a high collar. The delicate embroidery on the fabric caught the light, its intricate petals whispering a grace that felt both foreign to her now but still strangely familiar. Her wide-leg, high-waisted brown trousers fell to her ankles, the fabric swaying as she shifted. Dark-coloured heels clicked lightly on the floor, sharp and deliberate. There was something about her—bold, beautiful, yet undeniably out of place.

“What do you mean?” She asked him, playing confused.

“Are you wearing goddamn trousers, Y/N?!” The air was thick with the weight of her father’s fury. Y/N felt the sting of his words, the disbelief in his eyes cutting deeper than she expected. Seems like Xiaoli was right after all, it did anger him.

“Yes, Father,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the sharpness in his tone. “I am wearing trousers.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered toward the desk, where Yoongi’s chair was empty, his absence adding to the heaviness in the air. She felt the weight of her father’s presence pressing on her, but she refused to let it show.

There was no longer any room for fear. She was no longer a child, nor his pawn.

“You are a woman, Y/N.” Y/N stood firm, her heart racing. Breathing this moment through, she was trying to calm herself. She cannot screw this up.

“Ah, yes, thank you for the reminder of my gender, Father. I almost forgot. Now, could you please enlighten me on the real reason you wanted to have this delightful conversation in the first place?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened as Y/N’s words cut through the air with a little bit of sarcasm. Her father didn’t immediately answer. The room seemed to grow smaller with each second.

“You have not once bothered to seek me out, child.” Wang Zemo finally said, his voice low and filled with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

“You have not exactly made yourself approachable,” Y/N retorted, her voice sharp when she touched her shorter perfectly styled dark hair.

Wang Zemo took a step forward, his expression darkening.

“Knowing your husband plans to eliminate my existence. You think I would be easily approachable?—”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face impassive. “I do not know what we are talking about.”

“Let me rephrase that, child,” he spat the words, “I have information that could dismantle the foolish scarred boy’s entire empire as I have no intention of going down without a fight.”

Her mind raced, trying to piece together the implications of his words. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know that you have not fallen into the role of obedient little wife out of love for him, am I wrong?” he said, sloping down to sit on the lowered sofa. Y/N’s eyes followed his movement with disgust.

“Fix me a drink, child, would you, please.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her fingers curling into fists at her sides but moved to the table where Yoongi stored his high-quality whiskey they started to produce just after they got married. “You haven’t answered my question, Father. Why are you telling me this?”

She did not want to get that close to her father, but there was something in his eyes that she could not decipher when she handed him the crystal glass.

“Your Aunt was not aware of Yoongi’s intentions to marry you.”

Wang Zemo expected her daughter to cry, scream and curse at the man he loathed so much. But none of that happened.

“He saw an opportunity to solidify his power and took it—” His eyes narrowed, studying her. He took a long sip of the whiskey, savouring the taste after receiving zero acknowledgement from his daughter before he spoke.

“You fucking knew!” He shouted, not spoke. His face contorted with rage and Y/N started to think if she ever saw her father calm. Y/N’s gaze remained steady, unflinching.

“I knew that, yes,” she replied calmly, not invested in the subject at all anymore.

Wang Zemo’s anger seemed to deflate slightly, replaced by a look of bewilderment. “And you still went through with it?”

“I never had a choice in this, did I?” Y/N’s expression softened, but only for a moment.

“You could have come home with me that day—” He shook his head, disbelief etched into his features.

“I wanted better for you,” he said quietly.

“And I wanted to be free,” she countered. “But we do not always get what we want.”

Y/N watched her father, seeing him not as the invincible patriarch she had once feared, but as a man weakened by time and circumstance.

“If that is all you wished to say to me,—” She dusted her trousers standing up, reading herself for the inevitable. 

“I have orchestrated the raids on Yoongi’s warehouses. I have been systematically weakening his operations.”

He said, very calmly after he took a first sip of his drink.

“I did it for you.”

Rage and fear clashed within her, but she kept her voice steady. “What a lovely early birthday present,-” She mocked him.

“I did what was necessary,” he said, leaning back, the drink sloshing slightly in his hand. “For our family and for you, you are ready to finally leave, are you not?—”

She stared at him, a mix of disbelief and sorrow washing over her. “You think this is helping me? You think this chaos is what I need?”

A violent cough shook his frame, and he covered his mouth with a handkerchief. When he pulled it away, Y/N saw the dark stain of blood. The sight sent a chill down her spine, but she forced herself to remain composed. That is her que.

“You are ill,” she said, her voice softer but no less guarded. Wang Zemo looked at her, a strange mixture of defiance and vulnerability in his eyes.

“Colon cancer, they say.” Wang Zemo’s laugh was bitter. “That boy is never going to lead my men. Let me make that clear.”

Wang Zemo’s words hung in the air, his bitter laugh echoing in the room. Y/N’s heart pounded as she processed his statement. The implications were immense, the threat unmistakable.

“Father,” she began, her voice steady but edged with urgency.

“He has taken you from me,” Wang Zemo interrupted, his voice rising with a mix of anger and desperation. Y/N’s eyes widened hearing this nonsense.

“He has poisoned your mind, turned you against your own family.” His eyes flashed with anger, but his coughing fit cut him short. Blood speckled the handkerchief again, a stark reminder of his fragile state.

“I want you to end him, Y/N” Wang Zemo reached out, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. She pulled her hand away, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions.

“No, Father. I will not be a part of your uncalled for vendetta.” The moment hung between them, filled with unspoken words and years of unresolved tension.

Y/N shook her head, her hands trembling slightly as she clenched them into fists. “You are blinded by your hatred. I have no clue why you were seeking this conversation to happen, but it is clear that you are not in the right state of mind, so let me remind you of what father you have been.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but another violent cough seized him. Y/N took a step back, her heart a tumult of emotions—pity, anger, sorrow.

“You were never there for me,��� she continued, her voice steady but charged with years of suppressed pain. “All my life, you used me as a pawn in your endless power games. Do you think this is about loyalty? Family? No, Father, this is about control. You never saw me as your daughter, only as a tool.”

Her father’s gaze hardened, but he said nothing, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. Y/N took a deep breath, her resolve hardening.

“You have hired the best tutors in the world to teach me all the proper ploys of how to be a perfect wife, —” Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her voice remained unwavering.

“You made sure I could speak five languages, play the piano, and host dinners that would impress dignitaries. But did you ever once ask me what I wanted? Did you ever care about my dreams, my desires?”

“No, it was Auntie who did. Letting her send me to study was the only good decision you have ever made in your life!” Wang Zemo’s breath grew shallower, his complexion paling. But Y/N pressed on, refusing to let him off the hook.

“You orchestrated my marriage to Yamamato as a business transaction and when it did not work out, you were forced to accept this union instead. But I am no fool, Father, you did not care about my happiness then, and you certainly do not care now!” She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper.

“You have hit me numerous times when I was a child,—” Y/N continued, her voice trembling with the weight of her suppressed pain.

“You did not care if Ma would die in labour, all you cared about was an heir to your throne.”

Wang Zemo’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and desperation. “I did what I had to do for our family. For our legacy. For your strength!”

“Please, do not force yourself to believe such a fairytale. No father, you only care about your alliances and power. And now, you expect me to betray the man who has shown me more kindness than you ever did?”

“I will kill that kindness of yours. He will become a nobody to you. He is putting thoughts into your head!” he spat out.

Y/N’s heart ached as she looked at her father, a man who had caused her so much pain yet still sought to manipulate her until his last breath. She knew she had a choice to make.

“You did not even visit Auntie when she was dying. Who the fuck are you?” His mouth opened, but the words seemed to get stuck, tangled in the reality that was slipping away from him.

“You were never my father—” Y/N’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, the words more final than she had ever intended. They carried years of hurt, of unspoken resentment, and of a truth she had been too afraid to acknowledge until now.

“Then why are you still here talking to me?” he spat, his anger rising, even as his body weakened. “If you despise me so much, why haven’t you walked away?” Y/N’s gaze hardened. He couldn’t reach her anymore, not with threats, not with manipulation. She had outgrown him.

“Because I want to be the last thing you will ever see.”

Y/N’s voice was cold, each syllable a sharp strike that left no room for misinterpretation. Wang Zemo’s eyes widened, his lips parting in disbelief. The power in the room shifted as the finality of her declaration settled over them.

“What have you done?” his tone lowered now, as if the weight of the question had finally struck him.

“Nothing,—” Y/N’s lips curled into a cold smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not yet, at least. But I am the niece of my aunt, am I not?” Wang Zemo’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” he rasped, his voice a warning. Scanning the crystal glass with his dark eyes, “You have done nothing with it. You are playing games.”

“Maybe, or maybe not.” Y/N’s smile deepened, though it was anything but warm. “But you… You have done more than enough to seal your own fate.”

Wang Zemo’s hand gripped the arm of the chair as if the world was slipping from his grasp. His eyes searched hers, looking for some sign of weakness, some flicker of the daughter he once knew. But there was nothing.

“You cannot do this to me, not you—” he rasped, his voice cracking with the desperation of a man who had finally realized the price of his ambition. “You are my blood… You owe me.”

“I do not, but I will help you understand, now—” Y/N’s voice was steady, her words slicing through the tension like a blade.

“You will regret this! I was your ticket out of here!” Y/N’s gaze remained unflinching, as cold as the steel in her voice. She stepped closer, her presence a stark contrast to his fragile state, standing tall and unshaken. The difference between them had never been clearer.

“I would not care what happens with you, but it seems my husband does care, as you ought to set an example for the other clans.”

“This is foul play!” The gun trembled in his grip as he pointed it toward her, the barrel glinting in the dim light. His fingers curled around the trigger, the same fingers that had once held her as a child, now threatening to take everything from her.

“I was your father," Wang Zemo rasped, his voice cracking,”I am your father!” Sweat slicked his forehead, "and you will learn that I can still control you."

Y/N sighed. Her chest rose and fell as if the weight of everything she had just unleashed was pressing down on her. She had always carried this burden, this gnawing needs to free herself from the ghosts of her past, or at least one of them.

“I will not go quietly,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “If I must die, I will take you with me.”

“Right,—” she began.

“I will give you the courtesy and explain what will happen once you pull the trigger.”

Wang Zemo’s hand shook, the gun wavering slightly in his grasp, the tension in the air thick enough to choke. His eyes locked onto Y/N, desperate for any sign that she still cared, still feared him. But there was nothing—no hint of hesitation, no flicker of remorse. She stood there, unbroken, unwavering, her presence almost suffocating in its certainty.

“To begin, if you would have colon cancer, you would shit blood not cough it.” Wang Zemo’s face contorted with confusion. Her statement was so cold, so clinically delivered, that it sent a ripple of unease through his body.

“Now, if you decide to pull the trigger and God gives you the blessing of killing me—” Y/N continued, her tone now a chilling blend of indifference and precision “Yoongi will let you die the most painful and slow death he will think of.” Her gaze flicked downward to the gun in his hand, then back to his face.

“No, it will not be a quick, merciful death, Father. It will be something far worse—a lingering agony that mirrors the suffering you have caused so many others.”

She took another step closer, her voice lowering, a deadly quietness to it now.

“Now, the moment you fire the bullet, Jungkook will be here in seconds to save me, not you Father. Which brings us to — how do you feel?” Her voice lowered, venomous and precise “Is your heart slowing down already?”

His hand shook violently, the weapon trembling in his grasp, as he tried to process the suffocating inevitability of her presence. She took another deliberate step forward, and Zemo flinched, instinctively trying to recoil. But his body betrayed him, frozen by the terror of what her words meant.

“I am not afraid of you!” Y/N was not sure whether he was screaming at her or at death itself, but she answered for both of them.

“No, Father. You are not afraid of me. But you will be. You are drowning in your own failure, suffocated by your own decisions. And in those final moments, when your body betrays you and the darkness takes you, I want you to think of me. I want you to remember everything you have done to me, Xiaoli and Ma — every mistake, every cruelty. And remember that I am the last thing you will see.”

The words hit him with the force of a blow, and his chest tightened, each breath coming in shallow gasps. His vision blurred, his pulse racing as his mind struggled to catch up with the impossible reality Y/N was laying out before him.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and his fingers trembled, the gun feeling heavier with each passing second. His heart hammered in his chest, a staccato rhythm that felt far too loud in the heavy silence. He could feel the walls closing in on him, suffocating him.

And then, a flicker of fear—a glimpse of his own mortality—crept into his mind, deeper than any threat he had ever made. His body was betraying him, and the weight of it crushed him.

“You will go down, no matter what choice you will make.” The gun still shook in his hand, but he felt a strange calm wash over him, a resignation that he had not expected.

His heart pounded in his chest, its rhythm erratic and violent, each beat a forceful thud that seemed to rattle his bones. A sharp pain shot through his left arm, searing like fire, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse. His head swam with dizziness, his surroundings distorting into a tunnel of panic and suffocating pressure.

His grip on the weapon tightened reflexively, but his fingers felt weak and unsteady, struggling to maintain their hold as the world spun around him. The pressure in his chest mounted, a crushing weight that made it harder to breathe, and harder to think. His pulse quickened, each beat faster than the last, pounding in his temples, in his throat, until it felt as though it might burst.

His vision flickered, darkening at the edges, and a cold sweat broke out across his brow, his skin clammy as if he were sinking into the very depths of despair. His mind, once sharp and calculating, was clouded by the chaos of his body betraying him.

“You think you are clever, but you are just a wife of your husband, a mere woman!” Those last few words felt all too familiar to Y/N, but this time, she did not falter.

“Women like you do not rise, they only serve men. You think you are the queen?! What is a queen without her king?!”

“You have never been worthy of my respect, Father,” she said softly, the venom still present but tempered with the quiet certainty of someone who had finally reclaimed their power. 

“And you will not be in death either.”

His finger trembled on the trigger. The finality of it felt overwhelming, and suffocating, but there was no turning back. With a final breath, Wang Zemo attempted to pull the trigger. His hands were too weak to even handle the luger pistol as it went crashing to the ground with a loud thud, just like his crystal glass of whiskey, his body followed. The sound echoed through the room, alerting the young man standing right outside of the room.

The man who had once towered over her now crumpled at her feet, the gun useless at his side. She made no move to comfort, no gesture of sorrow or regret.

Instead, she slipped her hands into her pockets, her shoulders square, as she slowly crouched beside him. His breath still came in shallow gasps, each exhale a reminder that time, for him, was running out.

Her lips curled into a faint, cold smile.

“Nonetheless, I am Queen, and Queens do not bow, Father. They conquer.”

Y/N did not flinch. She did not need to. The man before her had already destroyed himself, in mind and in body, long before this moment had the chance to happen.

The door swung fully open, and there, framed in the doorway, stood the man she was supposed to call her endgame. Behind him, Jungkook’s sharp eyes flickered between Y/N and the wreckage of her father.

Yoongi’s gaze swept over Y/N, and then to her father. The faintest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was gone in an instant, replaced with the steely composure he had mastered. His dark eyes narrowed, taking in the scene.

“Are you alright, Dove?”

A strange calm settled over Y/N whilst she was watching her father slowly die.

“I am good,” she replied, her voice steady and unyielding, “but he is not.”

Yoongi stepped closer, his eyes filled with a mix of concern but also admiration.

“Did you poison him?” Jungkook’s voice echoed behind them. Y/N turned her gaze to Jungkook, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“No,—” she said softly, “I just made him think I did.” Yoongi raised an eyebrow. When he got an urgent call to one of his warehouses where he was personally overseeing the shipment of Min whiskey with hidden snow in the bottles, he did not expect to come back to the hotel to this scenery. His mind raced through the events of this day and nowhere not even close to this, he thought that his wife would eliminate Wang Zemo on her own. That was not the plan.

Y/N knew that his father was sick for a while, but what she also knew was the hereditary condition of a weak heart that flows in their family. It was a silent killer, a ticking time bomb that Y/N had learnt to exploit. 

First, she made him think that she had poisoned him, his panic was almost immediate. She exploited his fear and turned it into a panic attack which his heart condition could not handle for a long time. His belief that he was poisoned triggered a fatal heart attack she had anticipated - hoped for. She exploited his psychological vulnerabilities to bring about his end, ensuring that the autopsy would say died of natural causes.

Jungkook nodded slowly, his expression shifting from confusion to admiration.

“You used his own mind against him.” Yoongi stepped closer, his gaze locked on Y/N, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride in her. She had done what was necessary, what was ruthless, but ultimately, she had done what needed to be done. For him. That is what he ultimately believed, she did it for him.

“He knew you were planning to kill him.” She wasn’t looking for approval or some sort of acknowledgement. She did it for herself. For Xiaoli. For her mother and little brother. The world will be at least a tiny peace better without her father.

“Well, it looks like I have missed the party,” She hadn’t heard him approach. Namjoon’s voice resonated the room, a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes taking in the scene with a mixture of curiosity and something else—perhaps a flicker of reluctant approval.

Y/N didn’t smile back. She didn’t need to. She knew Namjoon well enough to understand that his words, however casual, were never without layers. He wasn’t just commenting on the spectacle of her father’s death; he was acknowledging something deeper. Something far more dangerous.

“Did you?” Y/N’s voice was cool, and smooth, as she turned her full attention to him, her eyes sharp with intent.

Namjoon chuckled softly, his gaze flickering from her to Yoongi, and then to Jungkook, who was still processing the events unfolding before him.

“I suppose I did,” Namjoon said, his tone tinged with dark humour, “this is far more elegant than what we would do,” his eyes flickered to Yoongi and she arched her brow. Y/N was not enlightened into Yoongi’s plan with her father but that did not matter to her - the outcome is the same. Today, she would sleep soundly. Because her most intrusive thoughts are becoming reality.

She knew Yoongi’s eyes were on her, studying her every movement, every nuance of her demeanour. He had expected her to break down—expected her to show some sign of regret, or at least the weight of the moment to sink in. But Y/N had made peace with this long ago.

“I did not expect you to be this calm,” Yoongi said, his voice low, almost cautious.

“I buried him a long time ago.” The words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.

Jungkook, who had been silently absorbing the entire scene, finally broke his silence. His voice was quieter, less sure than usual.

“So, this... this was not part of any plan?” He looked to Yoongi for confirmation, still processing the revelation that Y/N had acted independently, that she had outmanoeuvred them all.

Yoongi met his gaze briefly, a subtle tension in his features, before turning his focus back to Y/N.

“No. It was not the plan.” He said it with finality, though his words seemed to hang in the air with an unspoken understanding. There was no anger in his voice—only a sort of resigned acceptance.

Namjoon, however, seemed to find something else amusing in the air. His lips curled into a smirk, his gaze flicking over Y/N as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes paused at the hem of her outfit, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face.

“Hold on a second,” he said, his tone laced with amusement, his eyebrow quivering upward. “Are you... wearing trousers?”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, and for a split second, it almost felt like she was in the middle of some twisted dark humour comedy.

“You must be fucking kidding me” she muttered.

“That was way better than what you planned, Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung said, a hint of a smirk on his face. Yoongi’s eyes flickered with irritation at Taehyung’s comment, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. Namjoon nodded in agreement.

“I knew she had it in her,” the right hand man said, almost to himself. Seokjin leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative.

“Is she alright?” the doctor asked, concern evident in his voice.

“I checked on her earlier, she seems oddly calm—-” Jimin, still thinking about the moment he arrived at the scene, spoke up to answer the question.

“It is almost scary how composed she is.” Jungkook, who had been pacing, finally stopped and faced the group.

“If you would have been in the room when he attempted to drag her out of here by her hair, you would understand the hatred she felt towards that sick psychopath.”

The room fell silent as the gravity of Hoseok’s words sank in. Jungkook clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

“We should have done something sooner,—” he muttered, guilt lacing his voice.

“Well she was just faster than us, and apparently, Xiaoli and her mother knew,” Yoongi added, his voice laced with a mixture of frustration and admiration.

Just how much these women hated that man?

“Did she tell you that?” Yoongi shook his head but recalled the lack of emotion her mother showed when they told her that her husband had passed away from a heart attack. Nor did Xiaoli shed a tear for her father, but in that case, it’s different.

Jungkook’s expression softened slightly, his concern for Y/N clear. “We need to make sure Y/N is okay. She has been through enough by now.”

Taehyung’s smirk returned, albeit more subdued. “That wife of yours is tougher than any of us gave her credit for though.”

“So what now?” Hoseok’s voice echoed in the room. His gaze swept across the group, seeking answers, or at least some clarity.

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, thinking of what his wife had just done for him and their family. This was huge in his head and he could not get it out of it.

“As I know her, she will ask for something in return, or use this in whatever negotiation.” Yoongi’s gaze darkened, his expression serious.

“She took control, and she knows that.” Hoseok frowned at Yoongi’s words, stepping closer to the table where the group had gathered. Yoongi met Hoseok’s gaze, his jaw tight.

“Do you still not trust her, Hyung?” The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken tension.

“Her behaviour has been odd lately, let us start with that—” the right-hand man spoke up, taking the crystal glass of whiskey into his hands. The silence stretched between them, and for a moment, it seemed like Yoongi might not respond.

He leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping on the table, a rhythm that matched his thoughts.

“I trust her,” Yoongi said, his voice low but firm. “But all the previous experience makes me think that she sees this as her opportunity to do something bigger—” Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temple.

“She took down her own father, for God’s sake.” Hoseok raised his voice. “She is devoted to you.” Yoongi’s gaze hardened as he met Hoseok’s eyes.

“That I am starting to believe she finally is, sure,” Yoongi said slowly, each word measured. “But I get Namjoon’s suspicions of her, she did not attempt to run for quite some time, as if she is plotting something—”

“Maybe she is playing us all.” Taehyung, sensing the rising tension, leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“Playing us all?" Yoongi repeated his tone low, almost mocking. “You think Y/N is playing us?”

“She has been too calm about all this, Yoongi. Too composed for someone who just killed her father. You don’t just do that without having something bigger planned.”

Seokjin’s eyes flickered to observe Yoongi’s reaction to their brother’s words. “He is right, Yoongi. She has always been emotional, and driven by her heart. But this—" He shook his head. “It’s different.”

Jimin shifted in his seat, looking between the men, the concern in his eyes growing.

Hoseok stood straighter, his expression softening as he spoke with conviction. “She had a choice. She could have walked away or stayed neutral, but instead, she chose to act. And what she did, Yoongi, was not just for herself. It was for all of us. For you. Do not dare to doubt her loyalty, when she worked hard to finally be contemptuous here!”

Jungkook, his voice quieter than usual, spoke up listening to Hoseok’s words. “She did what she had to do. And whatever her reasons are, I trust her.” His gaze met Yoongi’s. “You should, too.”

Yoongi’s expression hardened, trying to keep his emotions in check. His mind raced, the weight of everything that had happened in the past hours pressing down on him.

Taehyung’s voice broke through the silence once again, more serious than usual.

“She has changed—” Yoongi exhaled sharply, his mind still reeling. “I just need to understand why. Why now? Why this?” His voice dropped to a near whisper, the vulnerability slipping through despite his best efforts to hide it. His heart... his heart wanted to believe in her, wanted to believe she was doing this out of devotion, not manipulation.

“Of course, she has changed!” Hoseok’s frustration was bubbling at this point. "You were nine when she was born," he continued the quiet force in his voice, not backing down.

“Nine years, Yoongi. You have had that much more time to figure things out. To live your life, to become who you are now. She did not have that—” Yoongi’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. The truth was there, raw and unfiltered, and it stung.

“She had three pathetic years to enjoy what life can be and then she went to be your wife.” He took a breath, trying to steady himself. Y/N had spent so much of her life suffocated by the things that had shaped her, by the violence and manipulation that had plagued her existence long before she ever crossed paths with him.

The silence that followed was thick, the air heavy with unspoken emotions.

His voice was quieter than it had been, softer, as he spoke the words he wasn’t sure he was ready to say. “I just… I need to—”

“Even if she is plotting some grand escape, we will stop her, Yoongi.” Yoongi’s head snapped up at the interruption, his eyes narrowing at Hoseok’s words. For a moment, Yoongi’s chest tightened, the idea of Y/N plotting against him threatening to undo everything he’d been trying to hold together.

He stepped forward, his hand resting gently on Yoongi’s shoulder, an attempt to ground him in the present. “You all are too busy doubting her, instead of trusting her.” Yoongi flinched slightly at the rawness in Hoseok’s tone. He had been too caught up in his own doubts to truly see the bigger picture.

“Maybe you are right,” Yoongi muttered, his voice low, almost to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling back to the surface.

“She is not running, Yoongi. She is not playing you. What is happening now is what happens when you have been given enough time to think.” Hoseok’s gaze softened, his expression becoming more contemplative.

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi allowed himself to take a breath, to breathe out the doubt, and let himself hold onto the belief that maybe, just maybe she was done fighting him for good.

“I genuinely hope that you are right, Hoseok-sshi.”

Y/N gave it a few days after the funeral to ask Yoongi for a favour. That well he knew her, she had to give him that. Y/N stands by the door, her posture stiff, but her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She’s been holding this request for days if not since they were married.

“What is wrong, my love?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to address her so gently, not now, not after everything that had happened. But she couldn’t hold this in any longer. She had waited long enough.

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat dry. She had rehearsed these words in her head for days, but now that she was here, standing in front of him, they felt like a foreign language.

“I…” She started, her voice faltering, but she steadied herself. There was no urgency in his voice when he spoke next, but something in his gaze suggested he already knew this was coming.

“Go ahead, Dove,” he said, his voice calm, almost too calm.

“I need you to allow my mother… and Bo Cheng… to travel to Maryland,” she said quietly, her words falling heavy into the room. “To Diayu. They need to be there. To… to live a life I could not.”

Something in the stillness between them made her heart beat faster as if he was expecting her to ask of this. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, suffocating. Yoongi didn’t speak, his gaze fixed on her with a patience that felt like it was pushing her to continue, to reveal more than she wanted to. Her hands tightened at her sides, and she took a shaky breath.

“I do not think you need them to be here anymore—” Yoongi’s eyes flickered to her hands before returning to her face, his gaze still sharp, analyzing every movement, every word.

“Bo Cheng can grow up without knowing what was supposed to be his—” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his posture remaining calculated and composed.

“He is still too young to remember-” 

“Are you not going to miss having your mother near, Dove?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the question, the weight of it pressing down on her chest. For a moment, she stood frozen, her gaze flickering down to her clenched fists. She had expected him to ask something like this, but hearing the question out loud—direct and sharp—was a different kind of pressure.

She had never imagined a time when her mother and Bo Cheng wouldn’t be part of her life, but what Yoongi was proposing... it wasn’t about them. It was about her.

“They can come and visit at Christmas time or Chuseok, innit?”

“Christmas time or Chuseok?” he repeated, his voice laced with quiet amusement, though the sharpness in his gaze never faltered.

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she steadied herself. She had to hold on to this. If she let herself waver, even for a second, she feared the price would be too steep. The price he would demand would be too high.

“It is enough,” she said, her voice firm, though it trembled ever so slightly. “They can come and go. They can live their lives far away from here. But I need you to make sure they are safe.” Her eyes met his, unwavering for a brief moment, before she quickly looked away, her gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of her own words had just begun to settle in her chest.

“You are trying to make sure I will not use them as a bargain against you, am I right?”

She had always known how far his control could reach, but hearing him speak it so plainly… made the reality of it hit harder. She swallowed, her throat dry, and for a moment, she said nothing. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of confirming his words outright, but the truth was already in the silence between them.

“Perhaps—” she murmured. Yoongi’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

“Perhaps?” His voice dropped, low and dangerously calm. “You still do not believe in my love for you, or do you, dove?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She didn’t dare meet his gaze again, afraid of what she might see in those dark eyes of his.

“I trust you enough to keep them safe for me,” she said quietly, the words escaping her before she could stop them. It wasn’t a lie. She had to believe it because, without that belief, she would have nothing left.

Yoongi stepped forward, his presence overwhelming. The space between them seemed to shrink, his scent and warmth now consuming the room.

“But you still fear that I will take it all from you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a whisper meant only for her. “That I will use them to make you obey—”

His words hit too close to the truth. Too much of her had been shaped by the fear of losing control, of being at his mercy again.

“I—” she started, but her throat went dry, her voice unable to carry the weight of the admission. She wasn’t ready to say it. Not yet. Not like this.

“You are right to be afraid, Dove,” he said softly, his voice smooth and almost soothing, but there was a steel edge beneath it. “I could use them against you. I could take them away, pull the strings again, make you bend to my will.”

His thumb brushed across her skin, and Y/N felt herself fighting the urge to pull away. She couldn’t. Not now. She had made her request, and the words had already been set in motion.

“Here is the thing, Y/N,” Yoongi continued, his voice lowering to a dangerous murmur. “I needn’t to. I already got you, have I not?”

A long silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. He didn’t need to say it. She knew exactly what he was implying, what they both knew.

“Yoongi, I promise that this is the last thing I am asking you for—”

“Answer me, dove.” His voice was quiet, too quiet, but it carried the weight of a hundred unspoken questions.

“I just need this one thing,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please.”

“Answer me first.” His gaze bore into her, unwavering, demanding. She knew what he wanted—he wanted her to admit her fear, her dependence on him.

“Yoongi, please,” she repeated, her voice trembling. Y/N closed the distance between them, her eyes locking onto his. She reached up, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. For a moment, they just stood there, the tension between them palpable.

“I will do anything—” she desperately whispered, but the words caught in her throat. He leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, and before she could lose her nerve, he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened into something more intense. Their tongues collided, each seeking to claim the other’s. Their breathing grew ragged, their hearts pounding in unison. Yoongi’s hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer as if he could never get close enough. Y/N’s hands shook as she cradled Yoongi's face, her fingertips brushing against his skin.

When they finally pulled apart, Yoongi’s forehead rested against hers, his breath coming in soft, ragged puffs. His eyes searched hers, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face—desire, possession, a touch of vulnerability.

“We did not have a chance to return to what we talked about at the jewellers,-” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

Y/N’s heart raced at his words, the mention of the conversation from before bringing everything back into focus. She had known this was coming, the weight of his demands still hanging in the air like an unspoken agreement between them.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands still trembling against his chest as she steadied herself.

“You asked me what I want for my birthday,” he said slowly, his voice laced with a quiet edge. “But you did not hear me out when I said what I needed. What I want.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, a knot forming in her stomach. She hadn’t been ready for this. Hadn’t thought he would be so direct, so blunt.

“I know what you want,” she said, her voice steady despite the nerves coiling inside her. “But it is not the same thing. I just... I need this one thing, Yoongi. This one thing, and then—”

“No.” His grip tightened around her, his fingers pressing into her skin. “You do not understand, Y/N. We are far beyond that now. You are not going to walk away this time.”

There it was. He wasn’t going to let her walk away from this. The strings were already attached, and now she was tangled in them. His lips brushed against her ear, and his voice was a dark promise as he continued.

“You said you would do anything. Anything, dove.” He paused, his lips trailing to her neck. “You want them safe and away? I will do so—.”

She closed her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. “What do you want from me, Yoongi?”

His response was soft, almost a whisper, but the weight of his words sent a shiver down her spine.

She always knew what he desired, although, for her sanity, she rather chose to not wander into those waters, not even think those thoughts. She was not ready to answer him. She was not ready to be confronted by him so bluntly. But there was something so mundane in Yoongi’s eyes when he said the word

“A child.” .

.

.

.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ❝𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction. Nor in this case, I'm a medical professional.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.

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[writingquestionsanswered]

How do I figure out what motions/handlings to write? (Hand gestures, moving in the scene, etc).

I am autistic and have never paid much attention to the way people move. I only do so now because I have been reading and noticed it was missing from my own writing. I never see anyone struggle with this, so I feel like I am missing some understanding on how to structure a scene

Guide: Working Body Language Into Your Writing

Body language is the process of communicating nonverbally through conscious or unconscious movements of the body.

Th four types of body language:

-- Facial Expressions -- Posture -- Hand Gestures -- Body Movement

Facial Expressions communicate thought and emotion using the features of the face, such as eyes, mouth, nose, and eyebrows. Some examples of facial expressions are:

-- an upturned mouth -- dimples -- a raised eyebrow -- flushed cheeks -- a scrunched nose -- rolling eyes -- gaping jaw -- eye signals (winking, narrowed eyes, twinkling eyes, etc.)

Posture communicates thought and emotion using the positioning of the body, head, and limbs. Some examples of posture:

-- sitting up straight -- slouching -- leaning toward someone -- hugging oneself -- crossed arms -- hands on hips -- slumped shoulders

Hand gestures communicate thought and emotion using intentional movements of the hand. Some examples of hand gestures:

-- pointing -- "face palm" -- waving -- beckoning with hand or finger -- thumbs up -- middle finger -- clenched fists -- covering mouth with hand -- placing hand over heart -- gesturing at someone/something -- clapping

Body movements communicate thought and emotion using bigger actions, like gestures using the head/neck or limbs, or moving the entire body. Some examples of body movements:

-- jumping up and down -- cowering -- flinching -- bowing/curtsying -- handshakes/hugs -- hitting/kicking/pushing -- taking a step back -- moving toward -- shrugging -- shaking head/nodding -- tipping head back -- dancing in place Choosing Body Language to Show Emotion

A character's thoughts and emotions can be conveyed using a combination of different body language signals. Every body language signal (such as a wink, smile, frown, shrug, wave, etc.) has a bunch of emotions it can be tied to.

For example, we all know that smiling is typically a sign of positive emotions like happiness, joy, satisfaction, triumph, and affection. Shrugging is usually an indication of indifference or not knowing something. However, we can also modify body language using adjectives. For example, a "nervous smile" or a "sad smile" tells us something very different from just a regular smile. An "apathetic shrug" clarifies indifference, whereas an "enthusiastic shrug" implies excitement about something but not having all the answers or facts.

Sometimes, choosing the right emotion to illustrate a character's thoughts and feelings is as simple as considering what you yourself might do in that moment. Or, perhaps someone you know who is like your character. Other times, it can be beneficial to research which body language signals are typically indicative of a particular emotion. For that, I would strongly recommend purchasing a copy of The Emotion Thesaurus by Becca Puglisi and Angela Ackerman. This handy reference lists a variety of emotions along with the body language that often indicate them, and it goes even further in that it also describes the internal sensations that often go with these emotions, which is handy when you're writing in first-person or third-person close/limited. The book is available for purchase in print and e-book, and you can find samples by searching for "One Stop for Writers Emotion Thesaurus."

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[gallavichsreddie1128]

Homelander and Billy being obsessed with Y/N

Author’s note: I’m taking request for the boys!

Y/N is a member of The Boys and has been for awhile.

She joined because A Train killed her best friend and she wanted revenge and Billy promised it to her.

At first Billy didn’t think much of that girl. Sure she was nice but he wasn’t over Becca in the slightest. But when they had a huge mission and she got all dolled up for it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Homie became obsessed when she went to one of Vought’s christmas parties (undercover) and he saw her. She was beautiful and used that to her advantage.

Homelander talked her up and she put on the best act she could and even slept with him. 

It was worse when she realized how attractive he was and how good he was in bed. Billy was going to kill her. 

She came home the next morning and Billy was already mad, “Where the fuck ‘ave ya been luv? ‘Ve been worried sick bout ya.” He said as the other members of the boys agreed. 

She lied and said that she got caught up at the party but nothing happened. 

It was after that Billy knew he had to look after her more than he already was.

Homelander couldn’t erase the girl from his mind and he had to have her. 

It broke his heart when he found out that she worked with The Boys. 

Y/N didn’t know that either of them were obsessed with her. 

Billy began stalking her and wanted to know where she went at all times.

Homelander “accidentally” ran into her at her favorite coffee shop.

Billy watched as she talked to the evil “Hero” as if they weren’t trying to kill him. 

He got up from the table when he saw that Y/N gave Homie her number. 

He couldn’t blow his cover but he was so mad. 

Y/N made it back home before Billy thankfully and she went to her room. She was very conflicted because on one hand she loved Billy and loved working with The boys but on the other hand she couldn’t stop thinking about Homelander.

Billy was fuming as he walked into the door. He didn’t greet any of the members, he just went straight to Y/N’s door. 

He knocked and a few seconds later she opened. Without a word he kissed her hard, knocking the breath out of her. 

She kissed back and he pushed her into her room. 

They had sex and she was in a bigger dilemma now. 

Both Billy and Homelander were great in bed and hot. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

Homelander texted her the morning after and asked if she was free. 

She looked over at a sleeping Billy and texted back that she was.

For the next few weeks she was fucking both of them without the others knowledge or at least she thought. 

Billy knew that after they exchanged numbers at the coffee shop that they had been meeting up. 

He wasn’t mad at her betrayal but he was jealous that Homelander was also fucking her.

Homelander stalked her as well as knew that Billy was fucking her as well. 

He was mad about that more than he was at the fact that she was part of The Boys.

When the time came where all 3 of them were face to face Y/N acted like she hadn’t been fucking them both and that she was on Billy’s side.

“Ya see mate, ya may be fuckin’ ‘er but she’s on my side at the end of the day.” Billy told the supe. 

Y/N’s face went red as she realized that Billy knew. 

Homelander laughed at him and sighed, “Billy I know she’s fucking you too. She’s fucking us both Billy. She’s not on a side.” 

Y/N watched as the two men bickered back and forth. “Can I say something about this?” She asked. 

The two men turned towards her and her face went pale.

“How did you know that I was fucking you both?” She asked. 

“Darling, isn’t it obvious? We’re obsessed with you.” Homelander said. 

“But ya can’t ‘ave both of us.” Billy said after. 

Why Not? She thought but knew that answer anyways.

She stared at the two of them as they looked at her waiting for her response.

“So which one is it going to be?”

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 3

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue. Longing????

Author's Note: Chapter 3 is finally here, I apologize for the delay, but I wanted to make this as good as I could for all of you. Also the vows used are my personal favorite and I think they fit the story well. I hope you enjoy, thank you, and happy readings!

You’re looking over the latest shipment, fingers dancing down the list of numbers, eyes scanning over the page from left to right. 

“You know, I heard most brides should be relaxing before their big day, having a night out on the town with their friends. Why am I not surprised you’re still here sweetheart?"

Your fingers still, eyes flitting up to see you father at the open door of your office, you offer a warm smile, “m'about done, just doing a final check before the weekend, wanted to make sure our numbers were right come Monday when we merge with the Barnes, didn't want a single hair out of place. And I'll have you know that Becca and I had a girls night yesterday by the way, we plan on catching a late dinner tonight as well so consider that my night out on the town.” 

Your father chuckles stepping into your space, your eyes flit back to the sheet as he draws closer, his presence looming at your side as he watches you. He waits till you’ve skimmed the last of the page, till you’re relaxed back against the office chair eyes on him before he speaks. 

“How are you doing my girl,” he murmurs reaching out to stroke your head, “I’ve been worried about you since your mom called you home and delivered the news.” 

“I don’t know how to feel dad,” you answer honestly, “should I feel happy, sad, angry, regret?” 

“Regret?” he questions. 

“This isn’t the way this was supposed to go,” you say. “I planned a wedding for tomorrow that isn’t mine, everything up to the last detail is hers, it's not mine and now I’m expected to step up – to step in for my family. Do you know what that’s going to feel like? To look like? Stepping in to a wedding that screams ‘This isn’t yours’, a wedding that you didn't invision." What if she comes back dad, what if she comes to her senses and decides she wants him back? What then? Are you going to discard up the contract like you did that night? Discard my feelings as if they meant less than hers?” 

Your father looks stricken by your words, “but we thought it’s what you wanted sweetheart, you didn’t fight us on it, you willingly let him sign so we assumed it's what you wanted too."

You scoff with a shake of your head, maybe you’d settle on feeling anger. “Of course I made it seem like it's something I wanted. Forgive me for not wanting to put myself through a one-sided marriage. He fell for her dad the first night he laid eyes on her and he was locked in, he loves her, he chose her. So of course I let him go despite my breaking heart. I refused to be the cause of someone’s unhappiness, to be the cause of my own unhappiness because I deserve someone who will love me back, who would choose me and he wasn’t going to chose me.” 

‘I can’t do this to her.’ 

But he could do it to you. 

“Sweetheart I’m -” 

You bring a hand up, “Please don’t dad, I’ve agreed to this because I know what it meant to our family, and I’ll play my role just as you asked but please don't ask more of me, there's only so much that I can give, and I think I've given enough."

Your fathers struck by your words, and he can only watch as you stand from the seat gathering your things. It’s only once you’ve reached the door of the office you turn to regard him, “I’ll see you tomorrow dad.” He wants to call you back,  to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness because how could he have not seen it. Seen what that night did to you, he should have done more for you, fought it, but all he could think of that night was the merger, the safety it would bring both families. He thought of everyone’s happiness but your own that night. They all did. 

“You know my offer still stands to be your getaway driver for tomorrow right?” 

Despite the tears blurring your eyes you still manage to snort out your laughter, “Your brother would have us tracked down in minutes Bec’s there’s no where you could go that he wouldn’t find you, he has plenty of people that owe him favors just ready to cash in. Also don't get me started on the hell my father would reign, I don't take his position till after I marry."

“It was a worth a try,” she grumbles stabbing a noodle, “I just hate to see you hurting y/n, this isn’t how the night before your big day should be going, you should be happy – those tears shouldn’t be sad ones.” 

You smile sadly at the noodles in the takeout box before looking over the coffee table at your best friend, “but this isn’t my big day Bec's, I'm doing this for our families." Rebecca abandons her noodles all but crawling over the wooden coffee table to get to you, her arms crushing you in a welcomed embrace. “Tomorrow is for you y/n, I know none of it feels like it is, but its for you, I promise it is.” 

Your fingers curl around your friend as more tears slip from your eyes, god how you wish that were the truth. You would give yourself tonight to cry, to be hurt, to feel angry, but tomorrow, tomorrow it would all be different - you'd learn to mask it. You would no longer cry, no longer allow this pain to consume you, you were going to fight for your happiness - real happiness, and ensure you got every bit of it you deserved. 

Bucky remembered the nights the two of you would be out in the backyard of the Barnes residence, a soft blanket laid out beneath the two of you, the stars coating the night sky as you two drew up the image of the ‘perfect wedding’ a wedding between the two of you that was written in the stars. Looking around the chapel now he doesn’t see a single speck of you in the details. Though why would he, this wedding wasn’t yours despite all the effort you had gone to make sure it was perfect and it really wasn’t his – was it?  

He still recalls the day your sister eagerly announced their engagement to both families, he had imagined this being one of the most exciting moments in his life but where was that sought after feeling? He had found no excitement when she mentioned that you and her would be going dress shopping for the first time since the engagement dropped, no eagerness in wondering what she would look like in her chosen all white dress. If anything he felt like he had been outsider to most of it, the cake testing, the linen choosing, the food tasting, and at the time he couldn't quite understand why. Where had that rush he felt with you in his backyard gone? This was his wedding, he should feel happy, so why didn't he, what was missing?

Bucky thought he might be devastated when his mother rang him to tell him about your sister not being able to go through with the wedding. He thought he might have been crushed when he received her text: Please forgive me. I love you, but I can't do this. He thought he might feel hurt when his number was blocked shortly after, but he felt nothing.

Now though as he stands at the head of the chapel, Steve and Sam at his side a feeling Bucky can’t place his finger on crushes his chest as he looks over the families lining the pews of the church. There are quiet whispers filtering through the air, and Bucky thinks that's what may be causing the feeling. Or maybe it was the fact that you still hadn’t entered through the closed doors of the chapel.  

Had you unlike your sister gotten actual cold feet, or maybe you finally decide to do something for you, something that wasn't at the benefit of your family.

Steve leans in from where he’s stood at his side, “would you like me to go check on them pal?” Bucky’s lip's part on an answer but the doors to the chapel are pushing in, his sister albeit a little disheveled makes her way down the aisle, quiet apologies on her lips as she takes her spot on your side.

He looks at her in question, "we hit a bump in the road," she mouths, "she's coming."

Bucky wants to question her further, but then the piano is being queued, the doors swinging open and just there at the entrance you stand with your father, your arms entwined together.

He forgets how to breathe.

Bucky watches your father guide the two of you down the aisle, both family's stood on their feet. The feeling that weighed him down earlier is now replaced with something new as your father closes the distance. You're dressed in a silk white dress, a delicate veil placed in your hair, a simple piece yet on you it looked incredibly stunning, so this was the bump in the road.

He meets you and your father, your hand being placed in his, "take care of my girl son." Bucky looks at your father, his hand squeezing yours, "I give you my word sir." your father nods placing a kiss to your cheek before taking his spot by your mother.

It's just you and Bucky for a moment as he leads you up to the officiant, "I'm sorry for being late," you whisper, "I -" He turns to you then as you stop before the officiant, his other hand taking yours, "there's nothing to be sorry for I understand, you're here now, you look beautiful sweetheart."

He's left you speechless, but there's no room for words as the officiant begins the ceremony.

Bucky can't take his eyes off you, not even as he repeats the vows he's supposed to, his eyes only ever part from yours when he goes to present you with the ring Steve passes him, and even then they're on yours shortly after as he makes his promise to you. He cant quite describe the feeling that passes over him when you take the ring from Becca eyes locked on his as you make your vows to him sealing it with the ring over his finger.

Why did he ever let you go?

"James Barnes and Y/F/N Y/L/N, having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these loved ones, and with the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church and the state of New York, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant turns his attention to Bucky then, "You may kiss your bride."

You and Bucky had only ever kissed one other time, and it was a moment like this one that he knew he would never forget.

He's on his side looking down at you, taking in the beauty of your features as your eyes dance across the starry sky. "I'd want to write my own vow's," he proclaims, "it would feel more personal, more us."

He loves when your eyes find his, there's a brightness in your eyes at his proclamation, "I'd love that too B, care to share with me a bit of what you'd say?"

He know's you're teasing but in that moment he doesn't care, he thinks he may be able to tell you tonight, to show you just how much he cares, how much he loves you. "I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms now and forever," he breathes grinning at the soft surprise that skirts over your features. "I promise to never forget that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love. And to always know in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find our way back to each other."

He thinks you might have been the first to move, your hand finding the back of his head, the other the side of his face as you caressed his cheek, he knows there's love in your eyes as you pull him a little closer, the whispered words, 'you may now kiss the bride' ghosting over his lips just before they met yours.

He's certain he's the one that's moved first this time, one hand finding your waist, the other your cheek as he pulls you closer. He can see the fear, the worry there in your eyes, and he caresses your skin in hopes of easing that worry as he closes the distance between the two of you.

And just before his lips slot over yours Bucky vows then to mend the promises he had broken.

The Arrangement Taglist:

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[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being A Spy

Requested: Hi!! i love your content, i wanted to request maybe a preference how the boys + homelander would react if reader turned out to be a secret spy. for example, for the boys reader would spy for homelander and vice versa. i hope i worded it okay. Thanks 💓💓💓💓 - anon

A/N: This is such a fun idea!!! But it also hurts my heart lol. I hope you like it my love!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher wants revenge. He trusted you. He trusted you with information about Vought and Homelander (of which you already knew), but also about Becca and Ryan and Lenny. Things he wouldn't have shared with anyone else. They don't do tracking chips like Vought, though now he wishes they had. The second they find out you're working for Homelander, Butcher sees red. He's furious and yelling and ordering everyone. He feels out of control. As if raising his voice and making others listen to him will take all their secrets back. Will give him his power back. It won't. It doesn't. He makes a promise that if he ever comes face to face with you again, he'll kill you. He'll do it with his hands, not a knife or gun. He wants to take back his power.

Hughie is heartbroken. He opened up to you. He talked to you about Robin, and his parents, and even that night at Teks party. You knew every embarrassing story about him and all the songs he listened to and his complicated relationship with Annie, especially in the past few weeks. You weren't a threat or another Vought Supe, you were different. You were supposed to be different. When he finds out you've been working with Homelander he feels humiliated. You've seen every side of him, no matter how silly or stupid or whatever, and you still turned your back on him, on everyone. You never really cared in the first place. He doesn't fall into total denial, but a small part of him insists this isn't true. He doesn't say it, he doesn't vocalize it, but an even smaller part of him wishes you'd come back and explain. He just wants to know why you did it.

Annie knew something was up. She couldn't put it into words, she couldn't describe it, it was just a feeling. The feeling like, from season two, she describes walking around the tower feeling like there was a loaded gun in her face. You were the most powerful Supe she'd ever met. You were powerful and dangerous and that made her feel uneasy. You smiled when you were supposed to and laughed and you said all the right things, but there was just something off. After her time with Stormfront, she's gotten better at seeing people's true intentions. Or, at least, nor trusting the facade they throw on. She blames herself for not realizing, for not saying anything. Maybe if she had, it would have saved the team from all this heartache.

M.M. hates that he ever trusted you in the first place. You are a Supe, after all, and he never would have let a Supe near him or his friends. But you were so convincing, so sweet, so thoughtful. You really had him fooled. You had them all fooled. When it comes out that you were working for Homelander, he doesn't retreat into himself like Kimiko or seek revenge like Butcher. All the feelings he has, all the anger and hatred and shame, it all turns on himself. He blames himself. He should have seen who and what you were, your intentions. He should have been the one to realize what you were up to. But even looking back on it now, going through everything, he still can't pinpoint the red flags. You were just that good, just that believable.

Frenchie is in denial. You? Working for Homelander? That can't be. You worked together, you laughed together, you scraped off blood and guts together. This cannot be. M.M. and Butcher get especially angry at him when he vocalizes his denial. Even Kimiko will yell-sign at him, begging him to come to terms with it. You were a part of the team, you were his friend. He can't turn his back on you just like that. Whatever information you had given Homelander, it must've been a mistake. He really cared about you. He thought you cared about him. All this time, though, you were working for them. You were reporting back to them. If he can't trust you, who can he trust? For now, he's in denial. It's easier this way. It makes him feel better about the while situation.

Kimiko retreats into herself. Like after her fight with Stormfront, after losing Kenji, she hides under that table and watches TV and doesn't talk to anyone. You and Kimiko were close. You were almost as fluent as Frenchie. She told you about when her and him kissed, she told you about being scared from the virus, everything. She never thought you would have been part of Vought. She never would have suspected it. Ever. You were a Supe, but that wasn't enough to make you a bad person. Now she's hurting all over again. She's angry and sad and ashamed. She's furious and she can't take it out on anyone or anything. She yells at Frenchie who's deep in his denial, which makes everything worse. It just makes everyone else angrier.

Bonus! Homelander is furious. He's lethal. You disappear long before he realizes, taking out your chip and going into hiding with The Boys. It's been days since you were even in the tower and he uses everyone to look for you. The Deep and New Noir are absolutely fucking useless, so it's up to him and Firecracker to track you down. Sage rubs it in his face that she knew the whole time, which isn't helpful either, but it's part of a larger plan she's had, but does not disclose fully. Homelander wants you dead. He trusted you. He let you in on his life, his secrets, and you were just using him. No one uses Homelander. He's not going to let you get away with it. He's not going to let you see another day. You fucked him over. That's unacceptable.

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 2: Pedal so heavy 

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: The feelings are getting real as you make a decision about giving Jake Syverson the time of day (or night, rather) at your 20 year reunion.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Flashbacks, horny teenagers being horny (over 18 tho). Prom night, early 2000's music, mentions of sex acts, "Captain" kink, mentions of teenage pregnancy, divorce, breakups. The Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Reckless driving?

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the second installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

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

May 2024

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

When you heard that, you went into fight or flight mode. Rage, regret, and sadness all flooded your body at once, and Sy’s eyes flicked down to your dominant hand which was curling into a fist. A wry smile started on his lips, and then he straightened up and looked you in the eye as he started to speak again.

“Butter-”

You shook your head, which silenced him. Then you raised your chin, released your fist, and turned your back, walking toward your friends.

—---

Get out (LEAVE!)

Right now

It’s the end of you and me

It’s too late (NOW!)

And I can’t wait 

For you to be gone…

Carla and Tiffani followed as you fled to the restroom.

“Why did you even tell him I liked him? I blame both of you.”

You were hurt, so you brought up a 20 year old slight and lashed out weakly at your friends. You were trying to ascribe meaning to your emotions.

How could everything still hurt this much? 

Carla wasn’t having it.

“Unh unh. No. Nope. We were sick of you running your mouth all the time about how cute he was. And Jakey boy had heart eyes for you since the day you walked into school, despite Becca the Bitch. After they broke up, we had to put you both out of your misery. It had to be done.”

Tiffani was nodding her head in agreement.

You sighed.

“‘M sorry guys,” you sat on the bathroom vanity and smiled to yourself about your Powerpuff councils in the 3rd floor Central High bathroom all those years ago. Then you grimaced when you thought of Sy.

“I just… Can’t…”

“So what just happened?”

Despite your surliness, Carla was ready to go to war for you.

“He wants me to go talk with him, ‘someplace quiet.’”

“Wow. Your air quotes are kind of aggressive.”

Sweet Tiffani was also calling you out.

“Maybe you do need to talk to him. I heard what happened, and it’s kind of a lot. A hell of a story.”

“Tiff has a point. You forbid us to say his name after you two broke up…”

You interrupted Carla.

“After he found out Becca was pregnant, you mean..”

“...That is a part of the story you need to hear. She did him dirty. They split when he finished his first tour. He asked about you, but you were already engaged to Scott…”

You’d heard that Sy enlisted instead of going to State for football like he planned when Becca fell pregnant, but the bit about the split hit you like a ton of bricks.

But why? And what did it matter now? 

“Sy spent the better part of the last 20 years in Afghanistan, and I think it’s because…But that’s not our story to tell. You really ought to talk to him.”

“I don’t have to do-”

Your voice was a little shrill and you closed your mouth when you heard yourself. You stood in the bathroom awkwardly until the familiar beginning of a song wafted into the room:

“Teen drinking is very bad.”

Carla and Tiff started screaming the next line:

“Yo, I got a fake ID tho.”

The beat dropped and they pulled you out of the bathroom onto the dance floor.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four Everybody drunk out on the dance floor Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more Like she a groupie and I aint even on tour...

…..Everybody in this bitch getting Tipsy.

This was your thot song, and after a minute of standing there, fake offended by their dancing, soon you were shaking your ass with your lifelong friends.

—-----

Sy knew how much he was trying it when he asked you to talk, but he had been waiting 20 years for this chance. 

Tonight was the night.

And he wasn’t going to let the night pass without shooting his shot. But the truth needed to be told first. He hoped that you still cared enough to let it happen.

When you stared at him blankly, he started to sweat. He knew you lived your life since then. He feared that any feelings you may have had for him were over and done with. But then he saw your hand balled into a fist, and hope entered his heart.

Sy never shrank from a fight; hell, he’d started too many, but he never wished for someone to sock him in the mouth as much as you.

He wanted to fight with you. 

And he wanted to make it up to you. 

His heart dropped when you walked away, but he decided to let it ride and give you some space. After you disappeared into the bathroom with Carla and Tiffani, Sy ventured into the venue, ready to interact with others now that he had laid down the challenge with you.

—---

You were having a ball dancing with the girls until that song came on. You stopped moving, the hair raised on the back of your neck. When you turned you found Sy staring right at you. You’d managed to ignore him the entire night, but this song and his blue eyes were wearing you down.

I'd sure hate to break down here Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin' I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin' So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now

You walked toward Sy, drawn to him as if on a string. You had that feeling in the small of your back as you stood before him, the one that you hadn’t felt in ages, and suddenly everything felt inevitable.

Just like it did 20 years earlier. 

—---

May 2004

On Prom night, you came out of your bedroom and Sy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes never strayed from your face as he murmured,

“You look amazing.”

You blushed and smiled while your mom ‘awwwed’ and went to get her camera. You approached your boyfriend and he took your hand to twirl you around as he appraised the rest of you in your sleek emerald green dress. When you faced him again, he was licking his lips, trying to make the look on his face respectable. You smiled because you could read his mind.

Sy didn’t flinch as your mom called him “Jacob,” and you didn’t have it in you to be annoyed as she took a couple of pictures. Sy’s hand on your waist and his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin at the opening on the side of your dress made you shiver in anticipation.

You were caught up.

Soon, Sy was loading your bag into the back of Betty, and pulling off, your mom having accepted your explanation of staying over Tiffani’s after going bowling with the group after the prom.

In reality, a bunch of the crew were renting a huge chalet in the mountains, 45 minutes away. You and Sy had your own room, and you were ready to give him everything that night. You were distracted, imagining having your way with him that night.

And Sy was right there with you.

“Y’know, Buttercup, we can just head on up to the chalet.” 

He cut his eyes over to you to watch your reaction. When you didn’t answer and just bit your lip, that’s when he knew.

“Our suite has its own bathroom with a shower in it. We’re definitely using that this weekend. Can’t wait to see you all soapy and wet. ‘S all I could think about in the shower tonight. Almost jerked off to the image, but I decided to save it all for later…”

Sy knew you too well, and had keyed into how you responded when he talked dirty to you. He was priming the pump for later.

You pictured Sy in the shower, his lithe muscles clenched as he fisted himself, made you suddenly need a drink of water. You cleared your throat and found your voice.

“We have to go, Sy. I spent so much time getting ready. And you look so handsome in this tux….”

You skimmed your hand down his lapel, down his torso to his thigh, and you quickly ascertained his situation. He grinned at you.

“You’re right.”

Sy winked, smiled and concentrated on the road while you tried not to be a slut in the passenger seat. By the time you reached the venue, you had yourself under control. He parked, then turned toward you. 

“Let’s have a good time tonight, Buttercup. Think you can keep your hands offa me for a couple of hours?”

You scoffed, and Sy took your hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed your palm, smoothing the joke away because in reality, It was him who couldn’t help touching you.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup right now… might ruin it later tho.”

You whimpered in his grip as he kissed up your arm and you tucked a long errant curl behind his ear. 

Sy’s eyes went soft and he held your hands in your lap.

“Y’know, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can dance all night if you want to. Bowl the blue balls away.”

You laughed and Sy fell in love even more. You were so beautiful.

“I love you, Buttercup, and us having sex or not won’t change that, not one bit.”

You melted as you stared at your handsome fella. He was fiddling with your hand, and then you felt something cold on your finger. You pulled your hand back and saw the delicate white gold ring with a tiny perfect diamond in the center that had been his grandmother’s.

You gasped.

“Sy!”

You looked from him to his grandmother’s ring. You’d come across it the first time you were over his house, ‘studying’ in his room on a chilly November night after football practice. You were being nosy and looking at everything you could touch as he went to get some snacks.

Sy was embarrassed when he came back and saw you with it. You thought he was mad at you for snooping, but he wasn’t. He’d told you that it was just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, not worth anything,’ and that no one would want it, but that his Gran had left it for him to give to his future wife. 

“But, I’ll propose to someone with a bigger ring than this.”

Sy’s denim blue eyes held yours for a beat. Your heart flipped. You didn’t know why, because you’d only been talking for a couple of weeks and this was the first time you were alone together. 

You didn’t know that Sy was repeating something Becca had told him when she turned her nose up at the antique when she happened to see it, and you didn’t care as you took the black box and sat down on his bed. You stared at the ring inside like it was the crown jewels, and after about 5 minutes of studying it, you looked up at him. 

“Well. I think this ring is beautiful and precious. The detail is stunning. Your future wife would be lucky to get it.” 

That was exactly when Sy realized that he was in love with you.

Back in the Bronco outside of the prom, you were in disbelief.

“What are you doing Sy….?”

All of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. But after only six short months together, Sy knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Calm down, Buttercup, this is just a promise ring.” 

He kissed your hand again. 

“I know we're jumpin' the gun, and we're both still young.” 

Those eyes held you in a trance.

“But one day, we won't be.”

“Oh, Sy…”

“It’s my promise to you, Buttercup. I will love you ‘til the day I die.”

And it seemed kinda crazy. But you believed him.

—-

May 2024

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear An' I'd sure hate to break down here Oh, no

It was either the music, the dancing, or the alcohol, or all three that made your mind up, but you were ready to listen to what Sy had to say. 

Stephanie Prince, the class president, was calling the Homecoming court up to the stage, and Sy looked that way. Anger bloomed again inside you.

Damnit, Sy needed to choose you this time.

“You still wanna talk, Sy?”

Your body language that screamed aggression: the cocked hip, the crossed arms that pushed up your tits, the tapping foot in those heels, all made Sy soft on the inside and hard on the outside for you. When he answered you, his voice broke. 

“Ye– yeah.”

Christ, you had him weak. But he made a decision, found his strength, and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the Marriott.

You followed him obediently, and that set him on fire. He stopped and turned around when he reached the Bronco. 

But he didn’t let go of your hand.

You two stared at each other in the late spring night air, stars winking down on you two.

“So where we goin’, Sy?”

Being this close to him again, and the feeling of his touch made all those 20 year old pheromones perk up again. Damn, this man. 

This huge, handsome, hairy man.

“Where do you wanna go, Buttercup?”

What your brain was doing was insane, so you just kept silent.

Becoming mute was one of your tells. Sy was elated that maybe you wanted him, at least physically. He was so thirsty for you.

“Hm.”

Sy grunted, straightened up, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, all while still holding your hand. It was like he didn’t want to let you go. 

And he didn’t.

“Tell you what. Let’s take a spin in Betty. See what’s up in the ol’ town.”

Your eyes flicked toward the truck, and you knew it was dangerous.

But you were grown now. 

And so was Sy.

Sy led you around to the passenger side door to help you up into the high profile vehicle, leaning over you to buckle you in, only releasing you to put his hand on the door.

“I can’t believe you still have her,” you whispered, indicating the Bronco. “How is she still the exact same condition?”

“She’s been in storage for the better part of 20 years. Thought about her everyday though.”

Sy was looking at your lips, and the memories came flooding back.

“I bet she missed you.”

Sy cocked his head and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His voice came out gruff and he had to clear his throat again. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Sy.”

Any smooth line was lost as his brain short circuited with the concentration it took to not kiss you right now. 

“Well, we’re about to have some fun together again, you, me, and Betty. Sit tight, pretty lady.” 

Your cheeks heated at the compliment.

“Ok, Captain.”

Sy actually blushed, shook his head and closed the door, leaving you to breathe in the old leather smell of the Bronco with your eyes closed, conveniently leaving him to pump his fist behind the car unseen by you. 

He got back in the car, jacket off. And he leaned near you to place it on the back seat, you got a whiff of him, the familiar cologne adding another dimension to your roiling senses.

When you opened your eyes, you witnessed him rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms. He caught you ogling him and you gulped and crossed your own arms and legs, angling yourself to look out of the open window.

Sy looked over at you closing yourself off from him, then smashed the gas to make sure that you'd squeal and grab his arm like the good ol’ days as he peeled out of the parking lot, pedal so heavy like you were the two most wanted criminals in town.

—---

Hit reblog if you like it!

Next part Here

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Seven—Patrick's POV)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: "Can I be any more delusional?" I asked myself when I heard the voices of the past inside my head.

CONTAINS: Smut, swearing, non-con elements, delusions, fantasizing, vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m), body worship, nipple play, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, manhandling, referring of rough loss of virginity and blood, toxic behavior, childhood trauma, dominance, dom/sub dynamics (Patrick is a soft!dom).

WORDS: 3k

A/N: Hello everyone! I am trying to keep up the pace with the updates and I hope you enjoy the new chapter as this one is special to me since I love writing Patrick's POV. Also, I'd like to thank everyone who supports my writing, I appreciate every comment you make and every like counts! I love you all!💗💖🙏💋 P.S. I highly recommend listening to this song while reading: Pastel Ghost — Shadows (slowed version).

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

At first I was surprised that I didn't hear any sounds behind the door—no crying, no protests, nothing, as if you had fainted or... died of a heart attack? I frowned at the thought, but perhaps it was for the best? Sighing, I opened my eyes and to my dismay, I was still here, in this fucking summer house. I was so tired, exhausted even. 

Why did everything have to be so fucking complicated?

My jaw tickled as I looked down at my groin—I was still so hard and if you weren't there I could have solved this problem by now, probably had several orgasms and slept soundly in the room I had chosen for tonight. But no, that was not going to happen, because you were the biggest pain in the ass. 

Fucking troublemaker.

This mocking nickname popped up in my mind out of nowhere, making my lungs burn with a twisted desire to sink deeper into the past, even though nostalgia was the last thing on earth I wanted to indulge in, but now, in my current state, I wanted to make myself remember something. Something deeply personal and complex. Something I was desperately trying to bury in my soulless flesh—what I was.

A soft, girlish voice called out to me. It was so loud I had to close my ears, but then someone's tiny hands covered my eyes. "Guess who?"

Paralyzed, I took a deep breath before reaching out to tickle the tender skin pressed against my face. When I heard a sonorous laugh, I recognized it almost immediately. "Becca?"

Involuntarily, I gasped in frustration as you removed your delicate palms from my face. "How are you doing this?"

"What?" I asked as I turned to face you.

"Guessing so easily," you murmured, smiling mischievously like a little vixen from the cartoons we both loved to watch. "My dad always struggles to recognize me..."

"He's just pretending," I cut you off, crossing my arms, my tone stern, though I enjoyed the way your eyebrows furrowed as my words offended you. "I knew it was you the moment you... touched me."

"Oh?"

"Yes, because you always do such things...stupid things." 

For a brief moment, we both remained silent, and I used that pause to take in the surroundings, finding us in the backyard of the huge mansion that definitely belonged to my family.

"Patty," your voice sounded more like a whisper now, as if you were afraid of something...or someone...someone like me? "I have something for you."

With these words, you carefully slipped into the pockets of your blue jeans to reveal a small object that turned out to be a charm. A kitten charm, to be exact. Confused, I watched you hand me the charm and for a moment I didn't even know what to do. 

"What is it?"

My reaction seemed to take you off guard, but you managed to keep a warm smile on your beautiful face. "I know it won't replace the one you had before," you looked away guiltily. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I lost that charm, but maybe... maybe you'll like this one? It's my favorite," you kept muttering and it started to irritate me, so I just snatched the little piece of plastic out of your trembling hands, making you stop talking for a dear moment. "My mom gave it to me after my first dentist appointment."

Chuckling in disbelief, I lifted the charm so the rays of the setting sun could illuminate it for a proper look. "Jeez," I grinned at how tense you were watching my reaction. "You're such a troublemaker. Always have been and always will be."

"Patrick..."

My lips curled up as I quickly turned and walked away in the direction of the large well my mother had always been fond of. 

"Patrick! What are you doing?" I heard your concerned questions, which only spurred me on to go faster.

When I finally reached the well, I stopped at its rim and, with my dark eyes staring at you mockingly, I dropped the charm into the dark water of the well, the little echo of the splashing liquid bringing me delirious joy. The way your lips trembled when you realized what I had done made me laugh.

So pathetic.

"Why? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" You cried out, shimmering tears streaming down your cheeks. "I just... I just wanted to make things better... I just... wanted you to forgive me!"

Annoyed, I growled and leaned against the cold stones of the well. "Yeah, yeah, keep crying. What else can you do? Run to your mommy?"

And even though I expected you to say something else, I wasn't surprised when you clenched your fists and ran away from me—I didn't even try to follow you, not even a tiny part of me wanted to, I just couldn't see myself comforting you. There was no way I'd do that, you were a troublemaker who should have always known your place.

A barely audible wail brought me back to the present. I was still standing next to the bathroom door and just as I was about to leave this fucking room, I heard another muffled scream. Biting my lower lip, I sighed and almost hit the door, but instead of actually slamming it, I pressed my ear to hear more of your whimpering—it was like fuel for my ego and I needed it very much, maybe even too much. My dick was still so engorged it almost hurt and just then a dark thought crept into my mind. 

What if I just open this door, rip off your clothes and fuck you silly?

The very idea made me shiver, bridging the wicked smile on my face from the notion that no one could even stop me in my intentions, considering we were alone in this huge house, no one would even manage to hear your pitiful cries for help when I finally got my hands on you. Yes, I would just walk in and grab your little trembling body and throw you to the floor, enjoying the way you would beg and scream for me to stop, but I would just laugh in your face.

Oh, I would. I definitely would.

And then I'd undo my robe and force you to suck me until you choked on my cock for ruining my fun—you would fucking pay your price for every second of it. Fuck, I wouldn't care if you bleed as I slam into your innocent pussy and you scream in pain, but you couldn't even imagine how much it would turn me on. Oh, no. You couldn't even imagine who you were trapped under the same roof with.

A dark, deep chuckle fell from my lips after I licked them in sweet anticipation, my slightly trembling hand was already on the doorknob, but as I was about to open it, I stopped when I heard your soft mumbling—you were trying to reassure yourself that everything would be all right—it was so pathetic of you, but it made me stop in my tracks. My eyebrows knitted together, I wanted to slap myself to shake off this strange feeling, it was something like a magic spell that was unknown to me. And now I still wanted to open the damn door in front of me, but instead of actually taking you against your will, I wanted... I wanted to see the longing in your big, beautiful eyes. Longing, not contempt. And that shift in my mind was crucial. It was terrifying.

The sound of the door clicking echoed in my head as I cautiously stepped into the bathroom to find you sitting on the floor wearing nothing but those fucking pink cheesy socks I hated so much, but now I finally understood why I hated them so much—it was because they turned me on like no porn magazine could—now everything seemed to fall into place.

"Patty," you purred and crawled over to me, almost rubbing against my leg like a kitten starved for touch. "You came."

I grinned and hummed, reaching out to pat your head. "Yes, Dove...I'm here."

Dove?! Oh, my fucking God! Did I really remember what I used to call you?

The look you gave me was captivating, so full of devotion, it was exactly what I needed, exactly what I had always longed for. Slowly, I lowered my palm and gently stroked your cheek, still wet from your tears, while your elegant hands played with the knot of my robe. 

"Oh, you are such a cute little plaything, aren't you?" I asked, lifting your chin so that our eyes locked. "So needy for me already?"

You nuzzled against my palm and did so, I watched as you carefully tugged at the knot that was then loose enough to open my robe and I couldn't help but groan as my erection sprang up and you wrapped your little hand around it almost instantly. You were unnaturally bold and confident in your actions, which was nothing more than an obvious sign that this was all just my imagination, but I didn't care. Now you were mine and that was all that mattered.

All the while you were licking the tip of my cock, now red and swollen from your touch, I could feel the warmth of your tongue and it drove me crazy as you used it so skillfully that I almost cummed right here and now into your inviting mouth.

"Patty," you used that nickname again and I had to stifle a moan. "Will you forgive me...now?"

My eyes were half open when you asked me this, and I couldn't care less about answering, but your pleading glance stirred something in me. "I...uh..." I paused to find the right words, for the first damn time in my life, and then stopped you, wanting your full attention. "Listen to me very carefully, Dove. You're not guilty and you never were...you don't need to be forgiven."

You stared at me without blinking, as if I were a god coming to the altar you worshiped at, and I could swear I'd never seen anyone look at me like that—those eyes so full of devotion would haunt me all my life—if only I didn't try to run away from it. If only I knew that I had been running in circles all this time.

"Kiss me." You said it without any doubt in your sweet voice.

And I obeyed, as if those two words were a secret code that only you knew. I approached your beautiful face, pressed my lips to yours, my hand found its rest in the back of your head and gently brought you closer. Those little obscene sounds you made during the kiss were stunning, they took me far away from here, to the place where there was no pain and sadness, but happiness and love. 

I wish that place really existed.

As the making out intensified and my control faded away, I couldn't think straight, so I gave in to the rush led by my primal instincts. With practiced ease, I picked you up and moved to the nearest bathroom counter. Carefully, I placed you on it, your legs spread open for me so that I could settle comfortably between them before you wrapped them around my lower back and pressed against me, your hard nipples grinding against my chest.

"A-ahh," you mewled as I nipped at your neck, throwing your head back to give me more space to worship. "I missed you so much...please, never leave me again."

"I won't," I huffed against your throat as I peppered your soft skin with light pecks before drawing down to your collarbone, leaving a wet hickey here and there. "You...are mine...all mine!" I literally grunted as I squeezed and massaged the soft mounds of your breasts, feeling the weight of them, enjoying their tautness. "Fuck, you have such perfect tits..."

With that, I squashed your tits in a way that allowed me to suck both of your hard peaks at the same time, driving you completely numb, your breathing uneven and rapid, your hands desperately clutching at me for support, and I didn't falter in what I was doing, as your moans were the best prize. 

"Pat-Patrick," you clung to my shoulders, arching your back. " Are you going to eat me out?"

God, you sound so hot when you talk like that.

"Is that what you want?" You nodded, but I just chuckled. "Use your words, honey," I crouched down a bit and ran my finger over your belly, going lower to tease the top of your mound. "Is that what you want?" I grinned, drawing out the words on purpose because I wanted you to beg for me. "Hmmm?"

"Yes!" You shivered impatiently and gripped the edge of the counter. "Please..."

"Good girl."

My hands rested possessively on your hips as I knelt before you, my hot breath tickling the soft flesh between your legs, and as I swiped my flat tongue along your blushing clit, I could feel you falling apart under my touch. 

"Mmh-hhmm, Patty," you squeaked as I slurped at your soaped pussy. "I've been craving this... for so long."

Pleased with how responsive you were, I tugged on your little bud and then grazed it a bit, coaxing a loud moan from your plump lips. "I know, babe, I know," I replied, raising my hands to cup your ass. "But now you have it...you have all...of me," my own voice wavered with excitement as I teetered on the edge of going completely insane. "Fuck, you're so tasty," I sucked on your little tip and closed my eyes, drinking all your fluids and moaning against your cunt as I waited as long as you did. " I'm gonna fuck you now," I gave your butt a quick squeeze, went back to the previous position between your legs and the next moment I was already pocking at your wet entrance. "Look at me."

"I..." you stuttered as I grabbed your neck and forced you to look at me. "Patrick, I'm..."

"No, you're not a virgin anymore," I said, pushing myself all the way in. I groaned from the tightness and warmth of your inner walls that enveloped me so deliciously. "I've fucked you so many times before...don't you remember?"

Whimpering, you clasped my shoulders with your trembling hands. "It's...s-so big!"

"Right." I snickered arrogantly, but gave you some time to get used to it.

Just like the first time.

I leaned forward a little so our foreheads were pressed together and began to thrust into you at a steady pace, your legs closed around me in a tight ring. It felt so good, too good even for a fantasy. The sounds of our bodies colliding filled the bathroom and then I finally let go of your throat and let you hide your face in my neck. You were so vulnerable, so malleable, so hot and wet. 

Perfect.

"Ohhh-God," your urgent cry hit me like an electric shock. "I can...f-feel you so deeply!"

(NSFW art by @somnolenthour!)

"Arh-fuck," I groaned and pulled out of you, only to lift you up and lower you back onto my pulsating shaft. "You love this, don't you? You love...feeling every inch of me...you love when I fuck you...like this..." my thrusting was restless, I could feel my orgasm building in the base of my balls. "...because you...belong to me."

"Patrick...put me down...I'm too heavy," you mumbled suddenly, grabbing my arms. "I don't want...you to get tired."

A loud chuckle rumbled from my chest. "You weigh nothing, Dove," I pecked at your trembling lips and wrapped my hands even tighter around you, fucking you in the air. "Don't...worry about me."

As if the current closeness was not enough, you snuggled into my frame and kissed me with all the strength, desperation and passion you had. This cocktail made me weak in the knees, but I kept going, ramming into you with full force. I wanted to make sure you felt the curve of my dick rubbing against your most sensitive spot as I tried to maintain the best angle for that. 

As I was about to combust from the inside out, I closed my eyes, only to open them again as I realized I was losing my grip on...you. Almost breathless, I blinked several times, still unable to believe that the perfect illusion I had created was dissolving. Frustrated, I leaned against the door, literally on the verge of tears when I heard your voice, the real one.

"I'm sorry, okay?" you rumbled through the closed door. "I'm sorry that...I'm not Courtney or Bethany or whatever hardbody you used to have...I'm sorry, I hit you, it was just an instinctive reaction since my dad used to..." you paused and sighed, I could feel the pain in your intonation. "Just let me out...and…I'll clean your wound. Patty!" 

When you used that nickname, I knew it was on purpose, as if you were trying to reach my soul, hidden under a thick layer of ice and darkness, which became my faceless mask and my burden, a burden I would live with until the last day of my life.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[talknerdytome18]

Ranking All Books by Holly Jackson

Since I've read all of Holly's books, I'm going to rank them! Disclaimer: This is my opinion. If we don't have the same opinion, then respect that. Let's go!

Warning: this may contain spoilers for all books published by Holly Jackson. If you don't want to be spoiled, then scroll away.

6. Killjoy (2021)

I found this story cute! Very fun and fast-paced. I loved seeing how it all started and loved seeing the friend group's dynamic again. I just found this to not be the best out of all of Holly's books (granted this is a novella, but it's not my fave). Also, too much Ant Lowe in my opinion. I would have preferred more Jamie Reynolds. Also, I personally think Connor and Zach should've kissed but oh well.

Overall, fun book! If you wanna go back to where it all started, then this novella is worth it.

5. Five Survive (2022)

Guys... I have a reason why this book is ranked so low. I'm going to start by saying that I did not hate this book. I found the story intriguing and was engaged once the action started. For her first standalone, this book was really good and exceeded my expectations. My main problem with this book was that I found that I could care less about the characters. Personally, I found Red Kenny to be a weak protagonist in comparison to Pip and Bel and, not to mention how I could care less about Red and Arthur. Red and Arthur are cute, but honestly, I could care less if they got together or not.

Again, I don't hate this book. For Holly's first standalone, it was really good. However, I found that I didn't really care for any of the characters.

Overall, good book! Wish I connected more to the characters because the premise is incredible.

4. Good Girl, Bad Blood (2020)

All books in the AGGGTM series are five star reads in my opinion, but I find this the weakest book in the trilogy. Honestly, I love this book with my whole heart. Coming from being Connor Reynolds's biggest fan, I love how much he appeared in this book and how he aided in finding Jamie.

I think this book suffers from what I've dubbed "Sequel Slump" - meaning that the first book is so good that the sequel "slumps" in comparison. In this case, A Good Girl's Guide to Murder is so good that this book just "slumps" in comparison, and I think it's because it takes a while for the mystery to officially begin, since we're taken through a quick recap over the previous book's events and then the memorial.

Also, I personally think that Connor and Zach should've kissed. Connor going to Zach's house to play Fortnite after the memorial? Very fruity to me (joking... or am I?)

Overall, love this book. Wish it got more recognition in the fandom.

3. A Good Girl's Guide to Murder (2019)

LOVE THIS BOOK. This book is fast-paced, thrilling and mysterious. It has a healthy dose of mystery and romance, along with characters I truly felt interested in. Pip's an amazing protagonist who fought hard to prove Sal innocent and find the real killer under the guise of her EPQ, all as she got the guy (Ravi Singh) in the end.

I loved that this book kept me guessing until the very end. I was suspecting everyone (Max, Jason, Naomi, Elliot, etc) and was genuinely surprised finding out Elliot killed Sal. Holly had written him to be such a likeable person that I couldn't believe he would kill Sal just so he could frame him as Andie's killer. AND BECCA? Never would've guessed it. Holly Jackson knows how to write compelling thrillers and I love that for her.

My only real complaint is again, Zach and Connor should've kissed. Connor honey I get that you liked Pip, but Zach Chen is literally right there. You boys are soulmates and I pray that the show recognises that (along with LauCara).

Overall, AMAZING BOOK. Deserves all the hype!

2. As Good as Dead (2021)

AHHHHH I LOVE THIS BOOK SO MUCH. THIS BOOK IS HOW YOU END A TRILOGY GUYS. From the beginning, I was hooked by the mystery of Pip's stalker. This book broke my heart with Andie's email - poor girl was so scared of her father and died trying to escape him. I really like how this book doesn't give Andie a full redemption arc, rather it explains her actions. It really humanises Andie - a girl who grew up in a toxic environment and died trying to save herself and her sister.

My heart shattered when Pip broke up with Ravi. AND HIS SUGGESTION WAS TO MARRY SO THEY COULD GET SPOUSAL PRIVILEDGE??? RAVI FUCKING SINGH WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME???

The ending? EVIL. FUCKING EVILLLL BUT I LOVE HOLLY EITHER WAY. In my heart, I believe Pip got back together with him and they married. They also got another golden retriever in my mind after they got married.

Only complaint was WHERE WAS ZACH CHEN? CONNOR AND HIM SHOULD'VE KISSED WTF. Not to mention Lauren and Cara... Love my girl Steph though. Hoping that Lauren and Cara are a thing in the show though since we don't know much about Steph.

Overall, BEST BOOK IN THE TRILOGY GUYS.

The Reappearance of Rachel Price (2024)

HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

THIS BOOK... I WILL ONLY SAY ONE WORD: BRILLIANT.

When Holly Jackson said that this book was her favourite, I can see why it is. While I struggled to get into it from the beginning, once I read past 100 pages, I was hooked. Bel Price is such a complex protagonist that I could find myself relating to. All the characters were just so complex and you truly don't know who's lying until the very end, when we find out (spoiler alert) that Charlie (Bel's dad) had ordered his father to kill Rachel.

Not to mention how insane the sibling plotline was??? I NEVER WOULD HAVE SUSPECTED THAT CARTER WAS RACHEL'S BIOLOGICAL DAUGHTER. My heart broke when Rachel spoke about how Patrick took Carter away from her when Carter was only two weeks old. The Price family are truly disgusting - Rachel, Bel and Carter deserved so much better.

Also, I preferred the romance between Ash and Bel over Arthur and Red. Ash is such a fun character and I was genuinely sad when him and Bel weren't endgame. I believe that one day, in the near future, they reunite and get together officially.

Overall, LOVE THIS BOOK. If you haven't picked this up yet, then do so now!

~~~~

That's it! If you wanna talk, then my inbox is open :) - Em

[thefallennightmare]

Mercy-Four

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Fallen Angel!OC

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, smut, mythological talk, violence.

Summary: "Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her.

Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.

Authors Notes: So I pulled a lot of ideas from my favorite fallen angel romance series, Hush Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick! I hope you all enjoy!

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @cookiesupplier @lyschko666 @shilohrosechicken @thebadchic @iknownothingpeople @sammyjoeee @malice-ov-mercy @collapsedglasshouses @klutzy-kay24 @iamamatus @lma1986 @bngurngheart @happi-goth

LETHIA

I sat in the middle of Noah’s bed with my knees pulled to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. My mind continued to replay the conversation with Maraxa and her parting words had been etched deep within my soul. I feared that maybe I brought darkness and death to not only Noah but all of his friends' lives. They were innocent bystanders in the battle for my alliance. Stay on this Earth with mortals or fall into the depths of Hell with the light bringer. 

Lucifer. He wanted me alongside him to lead his army of darkness. Against what? I wasn’t sure. But the love we shared wasn’t what it used to be and my heart didn't covet for him any longer. Not when there was someone else who seemed to have filtered into this newfound life without warning. 

Those almond eyes captivated me from the moment I had Noah pinned against the door. His scent was different from most mortals and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. The way we always seemed to run into each other or that anytime I dream walked, it was his dream.  

Why was it Noah’s face I saw moments before my fall? 

Why did we have the same tattoo? His on his neck, mine on my ribs? 

None of this made any sense and it only angered me more as to why I was stuck here. 

As I was staring at the length of my black nails, there was a gentle knock on the door of the bedroom; me humming in response to it. When it opened slightly, Noah poked his head in, the long strands of his hair falling into his face. 

“Hey,” his voice was gentle. “I’m just checking to see if you’re settling in fine.” 

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m sorry for having Maraxa show up here. I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

You don’t know that. 

Noah leaned against the wall next to the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s alright. Is she an old friend?” 

I scoffed while laying my legs straight on the bed to lean my back against the wall. 

“She is far from a friend. More like an acquaintance that always wanted my position.” 

If he could hear the venom in my voice, Noah said nothing and simply nodded. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked instead. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” I ran a hand over the black comforter. “I must say, I do feel terrible making you sleep on the couch when your bed is quite comfortable.” 

“Seriously?” Noah chuckled while walking farther into the room to sit on the bed next to me. “I’ve had this mattress for years and it's anything but comfortable.” 

An eerie silence fell between us, something that made me shift in my spot next to him when the warmth from him radiated around me in flames. I could feel his essence all over my skin while not feeling his actual touch. Bumps rose at the back of my neck when I felt his gaze linger there, lighting me a blaze. 

My eyes caught sight of something hanging from above his window so I pointed to it. 

“Are you religious? The rosary?”

Noah peered up at the wooden necklace hanging from his curtain rod. “Oh, that. It’s kind of a long story.” 

Crossing my legs, I rested my elbow on my thigh to rest my chin in my hand. “And I have time. I’d love to know your view on it.” 

With a tender laugh, he nodded before turning toward me so we sat facing each other. “Well, I was raised in a very Christian Baptist household with my grandparents; when I wasn’t staying with my mom. That's another story but it’s not important.” 

Immediately I picked up on the way his eyes cast down at his hands at the mention of his mother but made no effort to acknowledge it. Instead, I urged him to continue with a nod. 

“I’d go to service with my grandparents and help out in the church any way I could. Painting, setting up for service, things like that. I was exposed to a lot of religion growing even though when I was younger I didn’t buy into it as much. Despite having a lot of questions and doubts about it now, I still think there’s a lot to learn about it through religion, spirituality, and faith. Which is why I write about it metaphorically.” 

He ran a hand over his chin for a moment. “I never try to push my own beliefs or agendas on people. I want people to think and believe in things on their own, without having my choice influence them in any way.” 

“I think that’s marvelous,” I hummed. 

Noah smiled. “The whole lore and stories in religion really interest me. I’m currently reading a book about The Fall.”

My mouth ran dry when my body went rigid. “Th-the Fall?” 

“Yeah, fallen angels. It’s actually quite interesting.” 

I ran my hands over my thigh and cleared my throat. “Do you believe in them?” 

“Angels?” Noah asked with furrowed brows. 

All I could do was nod, afraid that my voice would give way to how nervous I was for his answer. 

He ran a hand over his mouth, almost deep in thought. “It’s hard to give a definitive answer because I haven’t seen proof of angels. I thought that angels didn’t exist at first but something changed my view on it. My grandma told me a story about fallen angels when I was younger. What about you? Do you believe it?” 

“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen,” the tone of my voice dropped drastically as my fingers brushed along the softness of the comforter beneath me. 

Flash images of what I’d done under the King’s command plagued me. Death by my sword was ordered to anyone who disobeyed him. Which rarely happened but when it did, I was the one that dealt with the end of the traitor's life. The familiar feeling of ripping out their wings weighed heavy on my hands as I stared down at them with sheer disgust. 

How could the creator who was supposed to love all of us equally order me to do such vile, horrendous, things to his creations? 

“Lethia,” the softness of his large hands rested on my shoulder, fresh off a kill. “You’ve done well my child. Your allegiance is greatly thought of.”  

My jaw clenched at how foolish I’d been. Following a King who cared so little for us in the end. The amount of wings I ripped out was too much to count. The amount of angels I dragged my blade into cut deep into my gut, causing me to revolt in disgust. 

At myself. 

Since I fell weeks ago, I questioned so deeply why my appearance changed and I always thought it was because of my love for Lucifer. But it could be to pay for all of my heinous crimes up in the Kingdom. Crimes ordered by Him. 

“Hey,” Noah’s tattooed knuckle lifted my chin. “Are you alright?” 

I nearly sobbed when yet again I couldn’t feel his touch; another repercussion. 

“No,” I choked out. “I did horrible things back home and how could I ever be allowed back? Why would he want me back?” 

The screams of my victims were loud in my mind, their bloody wings lying at my feet, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the vision. 

“You don’t have to go back there. You can stay here with me. Whatever you did can’t be that terrible,” his voice cooed in the silence of his bedroom. 

The words died on my tongue, it not being worth it to explain myself to him because Noah wouldn’t understand. 

My heart's racing faltered for the briefest of moments, only for it to double in pace when Noah’s eyes studied me, assessing every inch of my face. I tracked every movement of his tongue when it darted out to wet his pink lips. 

“Lethia.” 

My name was all but a hushed whisper that hung on his bottom lip and when our eyes met, some kind of light danced behind his. I raised my fingers to his mouth to drag the nail of my pointer finger along that bottom lip. Noah’s breath hitched in his throat but remained still as I glanced up at him, dying to know what it would feel like. Facial hair peppered his chin and above his mouth, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good he looked. 

There was no way he wasn't like me. Noah was too eternal, the aura that radiated around him shone bright and pulled me in every time he was around. 

The long locks of his hair fell into his face when he tilted his head towards me, closing the distance slightly. The divine scent of him filled my senses and I let my eyes flutter shut to pick apart each of the different smells. Noah smelled woodsy with a hint of Bergamot and Nutmeg. It smelled like his bedroom. It smelled like him. 

“Noah,” I breathed, now dragging my nails over the tattoo on his neck. 

I couldn't feel his touch but I did notice my hair being brushed away from my face. 

“I can’t explain it,” Noah swallowed. “But I feel this strong connection to you.” 

All of my actions were unknown to me, along with this feeling in my chest that burned with such a good ache. Noah silenced all of the voices in my mind, easing away the guilt and hurt that weighed heavily on my heart for my actions in the Kingdom. I was resistant at first with him but I think it was only because this feeling deep inside of me scared me to the ends of the earth. 

“Me as well,” I admitted quietly. 

My hands rested in my lap now, shaking with nerves, wondering what Noah was going to do. We were so close now, with almost no space between our lips, and before my brain could catch up on what was happening a sudden surge of warmth exploded inside of me before seeping into my veins. My skin pricked with electricity when Noah’s hand glided through my hair and it was then that I noticed his eyes were closed but his lips were on mine. 

He was kissing me? 

Fuck. 

I nearly cried and cursed the King for bestowing me with this curse of not being able to feel human touch. All I wanted was to feel Noah’s lips on mine, taste him, devour him. Although I couldn’t feel him, the feeling that was coming alive inside of me was almost too much to handle and I let a quiet moan be swallowed by Noah, who hummed in delight. 

It felt like fireworks being shot off inside of me. It felt like that first flight I took when I realized my wings kept me upright. It felt like the wind blew through my hair and the softness of the clouds encased me just as Noah’s arm did. 

Something spread my lips apart and now all I could feel was the sudden wetness in my mouth and between my legs. I clenched them together while grasping at Noah’s shirt, trying to feel anything. 

He pulled away to glance down at me, briefly searching my eyes for any emotion I couldn’t give off in the kiss we just shared. 

“I mean this with genuine curiosity but have you never been kissed before?” Noah wondered while his hand cupped my cheek. 

I shifted on his bed and kept my gaze cast down on my lap. While I lay with other angels up in the Kingdom, we’d never kissed; Noah was my first kiss, ever. 

“Lethia?” 

“I-,” my shoulders slumped. “No. Was I that bad?” 

Now while I couldn’t feel his touch, that didn’t stop me from meeting his kiss with the same amount of gentle caress that he led with. 

A low noise rumbled in Noah’s chest. “Not at all. I’d actually like to kiss you again if that’s alright?” 

Unbridled heat expanded deep within me as I nodded quickly and then his lips were on mine again. I let the passion in my heart guide my lips, doing my best to mimic Noah’s actions, and he let out a moan when I climbed into his lap to run my hands through the waves of his tawny hair. Even if I couldn’t feel any part of this physically, I could feel it in my heart, and to me, that’s all that mattered. 

“Lethia,” Noah groaned when I pressed my hips into his. 

Something in my heart told me that he was brushing his tongue along the side of my neck before his teeth grazed over in its path. That same feeling told me that Noah’s hands were sprawled over my lower back before slipping underneath my shirt to claw at my skin, digging his nails in. 

My spine tingled with fire, starting from the base and shooting straight up into my neck before spreading through my entire angel essence. My head fell back as my jaw went slack when the familiar feeling of ecstasy crept its way into me.

Only this wasn’t the kind of ecstasy brought on by a man's kiss or touch.

No. 

The skin on my shoulder blades began to peel away an opening for my wings to protrude from and with a gasp of fear, I scrambled away from Noah and nearly stumbled over my feet as I stood in front of him. He lay back on his elbows, hair a mess from my fingers running through it, and lips were swollen from our kiss. The rise and fall of his chest was uneven as he tried to catch his breath. I dared a glance lower and sucked in a breath when I noticed how hard his cock was in his gray sweats. 

“Hey, are you alright? Did I do something?” Noah asked while rising to his feet and taking a step towards me. 

I took a step back. “No, you didn’t do anything. I-I can’t explain it but-.” 

How could I explain it? 

Oh hey, Noah. I was getting so turned on by our kiss that my wings almost came out.

Yeah right. 

I dragged my hands through my hair and let out an aggravated groan to which Noah gently grasped my wrists and held them against his chest. My gaze bounced back and forth between his eyes, my erratic heartbeat calming. 

“If I went too far, I apologize,” he said. 

“No,” I hastily shook my head. “You didn’t do anything. I just needed a moment to clear my head, that's all.”  

He hummed. “I know the perfect thing to help with that.” 

Before dropping my hands, he left a gentle kiss on them, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread to my lips as I watched him gather the extra clothes on his desk and towels.

“A shower always helps me clear my head,” Noah said while leading me out of his bedroom. 

“A shower?” I asked, slowly treading behind him. 

“Yeah,” he nodded as we stepped inside the bathroom. “Hot Water. Soap. Shampoo.”

“Naked. I know the drill,” I crossed my arms over my chest with a raised brow. “Are you trying to get me naked, Noah?” 

Nervously he rubbed the back of his neck and a red tint painted over his cheeks. “N-no. I just want to help you.” 

I took the things in his hands with a nod of thanks. “You’ve already done enough for me. Giving me a place to stay.” 

The space between us was small in his bathroom due to his tall stature and he gazed down at me with a slight up curl of his lips as he stuffed his hands in his pocket. 

“I help the people I care about.” 

I cocked my head at him. “You care about me?” 

This word, care, was foreign to me; unheard of in the Kingdom. So to hear Noah utter it made a weird feeling stir inside of me. 

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t,” Noah’s voice was low as he took a small step towards me. 

However, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I nearly dropped the clothes and towels. I always tried to avoid looking at myself because of how evil I looked. My red eyes matched the red lights from under Noah’s bed and my short onyx hair barely reached my shoulders. Thankfully my jacket and jeans covered the tattoos that were drawn on my skin; etched in deep with my transgressions. 

I despised how I looked now. Revolted in the darkness that I become. 

“I never used to look like this,” I admitted with a long sigh, letting the things in my hands fall to the bathroom counter. 

Noah stepped behind me to stare at my reflection in the mirror. “Really?” 

“This look?” I pointed to my reflection. “It’s a telling of everything wrong I’ve done. I can’t even look at myself without disgust.” 

His face fell at my words and he rested his hands on my shoulders. “Lethia, that’s the farthest thing from the truth. You look beautiful.” 

That was another word I hadn’t heard before. 

“Beautiful?” I raised a brow, staring at his reflection still. 

Noah rested his chin on top of my head and I couldn’t help but giggle at the size difference between us. I wasn’t exactly short but with Noah’s length, he easily towered over me so to rest his chin on my head he had to bend down a bit, encasing his arms on either side of me to grip the bathroom counter. 

My eyes raked over the tattoos that covered the entirety of his arms, various designs and colors. 

“Well for starters, the length of your hair suits your face structure and the color compliments your olive skin tone,” he left a kiss on the side of my head. 

“I used to have long, almost white hair,” I said. 

“Oh,” his face scrunched up. 

“You don’t like it?” I teased with a chuckle. 

Noah shrugged. “You look beautiful either way but like I said this look suits you better.” 

His hands grabbed the collar of my jacket to slowly pull it down my arms, letting it fall to the floor at our feet. I now stood in front of him in my jeans and white shirt, arms exposed to show the darkness of the tattoos that covered them. 

“Your tattoos are made for you,” he breathed in my ear, fingers trailing up the skin of my arms. 

Our eyes locked in the mirror, the deep crimson of mine paled in contrast to his bright almond ones; however this time when I looked into them, they weren’t cold and vacant. Not like I’d see in my dreams. 

“Your eyes,” Noah breathed. “I think your eyes are one of my favorite things about you.” 

He brushed away the hair from my neck so he could press kisses along the skin there. I watched in the mirror as his teeth grazed over the shell of my ear before sinking deep into the crook of my neck. Straight heat shot through me again and I let myself fall into his embrace with a sigh that sounded more like a moan. 

“I’m afraid,” my bottom lip trembled as I cast my eyes down from his. 

Noah turned me in his arms so I had no choice but to look up at him. His eyes were filled with worry as they searched every inch of my face. I grasped at the front of his shirt, fingers trying desperately to feel the material. 

“Afraid of what? This?” He pointed between us. 

“No,” I shook my head and then let out a shaky breath. “I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.” 

Noah’s hands were on both sides of my face because he held me firm. Then when the light sparked inside of me, I knew that he crashed his lips on mine, tongue slipping inside of my mouth. Although I couldn’t feel his touch, the feeling I had deep inside of me was telling me everything he was doing. 

One hand cupped my cheek while the other slipped inside my shirt, grasping at the skin of my lower back. His lips and tongue explored every inch of my mouth, dragging his teeth along my jawline and neck as he went back to leaving small marks along my collarbone. 

His name came out just below a whisper when he lifted me onto the bathroom counter, digging his nails into the thick material of my jeans to spread my legs open for him. Noah stepped between them as I brought our lips together again in another fiery kiss, needing to bring Noah even closer to me by any means. 

“Lethia,” he murmured against my mouth. “I need-.” 

Just as the skin on my shoulders began peeling away, someone walked into the bathroom, causing Noah to jump away from me slightly. Glancing at the now open door, I noticed his roommate Jesse’s eyes bouncing between Noah and me. 

“Shit, I should have knocked,” he muttered while rubbing his face. “I just saw the door was cracked open and didn’t think.” 

I wiped away the saliva from my lips and turned my head away from the two men, feeling this unusual burn on my cheeks. 

“It’s alright,” Noah ran a hand through his hair, still keeping a wide distance between us. “I was just letting Lethia take a shower.” 

Jesse nodded. “Yeah sure, no problem. I’ll just use the bathroom downstairs.” 

When it was just Noah and me yet again, I peered over to him who was leaning against the wall with a wicked smirk. 

“What?” I asked with a slight up curl on my lips. 

He said nothing, only adjusting himself. I dared a glance downward and sucked in a breath when I noticed his cock pressing hard against the front of his sweats. All the warmth in my body shot down to my core and I squeezed my thighs together, hoping it would curb the itch.

How did this mortal seem to set all of my senses ablaze like this? 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Noah motioned to the shower. 

As he began walking out of the bathroom, I dared a glance at the shower but tilted my head in confusion. 

“Wait,” I spoke while reaching for his wrist, my black nails grazing his skin. 

Both of us reacted with such a shock, nearly making me rear back in surprise. Noah’s eyes bounced from my hold on him to my face; a spark of something behind them. 

“How do I turn it on?” 

“The shower?” His brows creased. 

All I did was nod, some things on this planet still confused me but I didn’t want to tell him that. 

With a chuckle, Noah walked over to the shower, sliding the door open then turned the dial left. 

“Left is hot. The right is cold. Adjust how you need to. There’s already some shampoo and body wash in there for you,” he said when he stepped in front of me. 

Steam began to fill the bathroom, dancing above our heads like the clouds in the Kingdom. Reaching up on the tips of my toes, I laid a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“Thank you, Noah.” 

NOAH

I stifled a yawn behind my hand as I poured myself yet another cup of coffee, stirring the dark liquid as I leaned against the kitchen island. Craning my neck far to the left, I groaned when it popped in a few different places. Sleeping on the couch did a number on my back and neck but I didn’t want to verbalize my discomfort knowing that Lethia was comfortable upstairs in bed. 

Possibly naked, lying in my sheets. 

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I took a large gulp of my coffee, it slightly burning on the way down, when Jesse walked into the kitchen. His eyes raked over my disheveled hair and skewed clothes with a smirk. 

“Rough night?” 

I grumbled in response. 

“I’m sorry about interrupting you and Lethia last night,” Jesse apologized while reaching for a cup in the far right cupboard. 

“It’s alright,” I set my cup on the counter next to me. 

It seemed as if there was something on the tip of his tongue so I urged him to ask his question with a nod. 

“Are you sure you aren’t moving fast with her?” Jesse was hesitant to ask. “You don’t know a lot about Lethia?” 

Even though I was growing tired of the same conversation with my friends, I took a deep breath to ease away the annoyance. I knew they were only coming from a place of love. 

“It’s hard to explain,” I rubbed a hand up and down my arm. “We feel this strong connection between us and no matter how hard I tried to stay away, it seemed as if something kept pulling us together.” 

Jesse nodded with a faint smile. “She seems like a great girl, Noah. We just don’t want you to fall too deep and end up getting hurt.” 

I reassured him with a pat on his shoulder just as Jolly, Michael, and Orie came bounding into the kitchen, all of them going about to start their typical morning routine. It was a rare Saturday that we all had off so earlier in the week we talked about going for a hike today. 

“Still on for today?” Orie wondered. 

“Yeah,” I answered. 

Jolly took a sip of his coffee. “Did you ask if Lethia wanted to come?” 

My lips parted to speak but there was this tingle at the back of my neck, making the hairs there stand to attention, and when I turned slightly, my heart shuddered in my chest. 

Lethia stood in the middle of the kitchen, rubbing a hand on her elbow. Her hair was a mess from a night of sleep and I could make out the faintest of a few purple marks across her neck. My cock twitched in my sweats when I remembered our kisses from last night. But that’s not what made my heart stop. It was what she was wearing. 

My blue and white star shorts and my Jesus playing basketball with the devil t-shirt. It drowned on her, barely covering the shorts. Not only were her arms covered in tattoos but so were both of her legs, the black designs standing out amongst the sunlight that brushed in through the patio door next to her. Lethia looked absolutely breathtaking. 

Like an angel. 

“Hilarious,” she pulled at the picture of the shirt. 

I smiled. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“You guys were going to ask me something?” 

She averted my question with one of her own and Orie spoke up. 

“We were going for a hike today. Would you like to join?” 

“A hike,” Lethia repeated the words slowly. 

Michael rolled his eyes. “You know, walking up a mountain. Fresh air. Scenery. Exercise.” 

Crimson eyes sliced into him. “I know what a hike is.” 

“Cool, so are you coming with or not?” He crossed his arms. 

“I’m touched you want me to tag along, Michael. I knew you secretly had feelings for me,” Lethia teased with a playful smirk. 

Peering over to Michael, I noticed a red tint covering his cheeks before he hid his face in the fridge, rummaging around for something. 

“So,” I began while closing the distance between Lethia and me. “Do you want to come with us?” 

She peered up at me through dark lashes. “You want to spend time with me?” 

“I think after last night that it’s pretty clear,” I said while taming her sleep-tousled hair. 

Lethia leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering shut with a peaceful sigh. 

“Okay,” she agreed after a beat of silence. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.” 

“Take all the time you need,” I said, trailing my fingers down the side of her neck. 

Lethia slipped away from me and trotted back upstairs to get ready and when I turned around, I ignored the looks from Michael, Orie, and Jolly. Instead, I walked into the living room while hearing Jesse fill them in on what happened last night. 

“You kissed her?” Michael asked as he followed me into the living room. 

Slipping my black jacket over my hoodie, I shrugged. “It sort of happened. We were in my room talking and I asked if I could.” 

He hesitated and I knew, like Jesse, he had some reservations. 

“Look, I appreciate you guys looking out for me, I do. But if I didn’t trust Lethia, she wouldn’t be here. So can we please make her feel welcome?” 

I directed the question towards Michael, who raised his hands. “I didn’t start it.” 

“I think the reason why you two seem to butt heads is because she doesn't take your shit,” Jolly chuckled while tying up his hair. 

Michael grumbled under his breath as Lethia came bounding down the steps, yet again taking my breath away. She was dressed in biker shorts, showcasing her long and toned legs, and a black fitted crop top. Her white tennis shoes stood out as she came to a stop when all eyes fell on her. 

“Do I have something stuck to me or something?” She asked, doing a full 360 turn, and I briefly saw a tattoo peaking on her shoulder through the straps of her shirt. 

Some kind of bird. A crow?

“No, you look great,” I smiled. “Ready?” 

“Shit, my jacket. Let me-.” 

Before she could run back upstairs, I handed her an extra sweater of mine I grabbed from the front closet. 

“Your leather jacket is looking a bit worn so here, you can have my sweater for the day,” I said. 

She hesitantly took it, fingering the material of my yellow sweater. “Thank you, Noah.” 

The drive to our usual hiking spot seemed to go by faster than normal as we all piled in Orie’s SUV; he and his dog, Harper, up front; something Michael gave him shit for when he tried to call shotgun. 

Jolly and Michael were in the middle. 

Me, Lethia, and Jesse were in the back seat. 

My knees were brushing with hers, heat spreading throughout my nerve endings and I suddenly wanted to feel all of her all over me. Memories of our kiss last night flashed in my mind when I found myself staring at her lips while she talked with Jesse. 

I remembered how they tasted; like every dark thought I’d ever had. There was something about her that kept calling to me, to a side that I forever repressed. I needed to know more about her and to know who she was running from so I could protect her from them. 

Once we all stumbled out of the car, Lethia bent low to Harper so the dog could sniff her fingers. With a faint smile, she scratched Harper being the ears, something the dog appreciated with a wag of her tail. 

“You’re a beautiful creature,” Lethia mused before rising to her feet. 

With Orie taking the lead, we all followed up the usual path, Lethia slowly trailing behind. I let her take her time alone, figured something was bothering her, but when we made it about halfway up the trail, I finally turned to face her. Her hand was moving in an orbit as she studied the long black nails; sharp as a blade. 

“Come on slowpoke!” I called out to her with a smile after pulling my hood up.

Her eyes barely lifted to mine, something still clouding her mind. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, coming to a stop. 

“Hm?” 

When Lethia finally looked up at me, it was a few seconds too late as she crashed into me, not realizing I stopped walking. My arms wrapped around her to keep us upright while her hands sprawled over my chest. I was still so nervous to have her this close to me that I knew she would be able to tell when she’d feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest. 

“What’s going on in here?” I asked again, tapping her forehead. 

She didn’t even flinch. 

“Nothing,” Lethia said. 

I knew she couldn’t see the look I was giving her through my sunglasses so instead, I squeezed her hips; once again not reacting to my touch. 

“I’m fine, Noah,” she reassured me with a gentle caress to my face. “We should move along before the others wonder where we drifted off to.” 

I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that Jolly was at the top of the hill about ten feet ahead of us; stopped and waiting. 

“The first one to Jolly wins,” I said. 

This made her raise a brow. “A race?” 

“Yeah,” I dropped my hands from her waist. “If I win, I get to sleep in my bed with you. The couch isn’t the best place to sleep on my back. If it makes you feel better, we can put a wall of pillows between us.”

“What do I get when I win?” Her hands replaced mine on her hips. 

I snorted. “Someone’s confident.” 

It was her turn to snort. “There’s no way you can beat me. Now, what do I get when I win?” 

“Whatever you want,” I shrugged. 

She tapped a finger to her lip as if she was really thinking about her decision. 

“If I win, I’d like for you to kiss me again.” 

My cock twitched in my joggers while my heart hammered loudly in my ears. 

“Lethia,” my voice dropped. “You don’t have to make a bet for me to kiss you again.” 

Cocking her head to the side, she stood taller to close the distance. I felt the warm breath fan over my bottom lip and I almost captured her tongue with mine when it darted out to wet her lips. 

Suddenly, her laughter erupted through the trees as she took off in a sprint toward Jolly. Chuckling under my breath, I whipped around to begin running after her, amazed at how fast she’d already closed the distance to Jolly. She was less than five feet from him as he watched the two of us with a smile. 

Suddenly, her steps faltered briefly, just enough for me to pass her in such haste that I didn’t see that she stopped running completely. When I reached Jolly, I tapped his shoulder before raising my hands. 

“I win!” 

Lethia slowly caught up to us with a smile painting the features of her face, not even working hard to catch her breath from the race. It was as if she wasn’t even winded. 

“You did, fair and square,” she agreed while tying half of her hair up into a bun. 

Jolly looked from me to Lethia, a knowing look on his face. “Really?” 

My shoulders fell when I saw the look the two of them shared. 

“Wait,” I pointed to her. “Did you let me win?” 

“No,” Lethia dragged out the word and shrugged. “Why would I do that?” 

When she slipped between Jolly and me, she patted my chest and winked. “You better not be a blanket hog, Noah.” 

I watched her walk up to Jesse, the two of them picking up the conversation they had in the car. 

“You know Lethia let you win, right?” 

Jolly’s voice made me snap my gaze over to him. “No, she didn’t.” 

Now it was me that gave that knowing look and I shifted on my feet. 

“Why would she let me win?” I asked. 

“She wanted you to share your bed with her,” Jolly said as if it was obvious. 

I stood there for a long moment after he left to catch up with everyone else, letting his words settle within me. Lethia let me win because she wanted to share my bed. A fire burned in my gut with that knowledge as excitement filled my veins with the thought of going to sleep tonight. 

When I reached the group, they all were standing on a cliff edge staring down at the city of Los Angeles. This was one of my favorite spots because you could see everything up here but hear nothing of the hustle and bustle of the city, only your thoughts. 

I took note of Lethia who was a few feet away from all of us, in her own little bubble, letting the wind blow through her hair and my sweater that was tied around her waist. Her eyes were closed, a look of peaceful bliss on her face almost as if she belonged in the breeze. Her arms were outstretched as she tilted her head back.  “Lethia.” 

One eye cracked open as she looked at me when I snapped a quick picture of her with a smile. 

“I’m glad you invited me with you guys,” she breathed while dropping her arms. 

“Yeah, you’ve been alright company,” Michael admitted with a grumble. 

She came over and ruffled his hair. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

Hooking an arm around her back, I pulled her into my chest, breathing my question over her lips. “You let me win the race?” 

“Now why would I do that?” Lethia hummed, playing with the strings of my hoodie. 

“That would mean I secretly want to sleep in the same bed with you.” 

Something mischievous sparkled in her crimson eyes as I lowered my head to her, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. Her body relaxed in my embrace, lips molding against my own, while my hands roamed up her back. 

Pulling away, Lethia dragged a finger over my bottom lip. 

“Looks like we both won in the end,” she respired. 

“How sweet.” 

Lethia’s body went stiff in my embrace when she peered over my shoulder toward the unfamiliar voice. Following her gaze, my brows creased when I noticed a man standing a few feet away from our group, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his dark Levis. The top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, showcasing a golden chain. For someone walking outside on a dirt-filled mountain, he looked clean; pristine. Not a single strand of his blonde hair was out of place on top of his head. 

“Uriel,” Lethia forced out through gritted teeth.

“Do you know him?” I asked when I looked back at her.

“Unfortunately,” her jaw ticked, never removing her eyes from the stranger. “He’s an old friend. Give me a few minutes?” 

I swallowed the jealousy burning deep in my gut at the way she said old friend but nodded, letting her slip from my embrace. With the guys flanking in a line a few feet behind her, we watched with careful eyes as she moved out of earshot from us. 

LETHIA  

“How did you find me?” I questioned, the soles of my shoes scraping along the rocks beneath my feet. 

Uriel smiled with his lips but not his eyes. “I must admit, your scent was a bit harder to find now that you mingle among these mortals.” 

“What do you want, Uriel?” My hands shook at my side so I rolled them into fists. 

Bright gold eyes flicked over my shoulder towards the guys before they fell on me. 

“I come with a message from the King.” 

I swallowed thickly, nearly faltering my stone face at the mention of the King, but remained calm. 

“I’m surprised he let you leave his side; you were always the one to be up his ass any chance you could get.” 

Uriel’s eyes sliced into me. “The vulgarity of your speech, Lethia. A few weeks here and you’ve changed; in more ways than one.” 

“What’s this message?” I asked with a sigh, ready to end this surprise meeting. 

“The King is welcoming you back into the Kingdom.” 

My heart stopped in my chest as my jaw dropped. I couldn’t ignore the way relief flooded me for the briefest of moments. 

A way back home? I was allowed to go back home. 

“That seems too good to be true. How can I believe your word?” I asked while crossing my arms over my chest. 

Uriel held out his hands. “I am an archangel, Lethia. We’re known for our word.” 

“When the fuck has your word ever been good enough? I sneered, countless memories of how wrong his word had been in the Kingdom. 

“Do you want to be granted a way back or not?” Uriel clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

“Surely the King has a catch,” I reminded him. “He always did.” 

Uriel pointed to Noah. “Erase that mortal’s memory of you, renounce him and everything you’ve done together. Never look his way again and you have your way back home.” 

My heart fell to the depths of my stomach at this demand. Even though there was a tiny sliver of hope of being granted access back into my home, there was no way I could erase Noah’s memory of me. These feelings we shared were still unknown to me but that didn’t mean I didn’t understand that we were important to each other; the feelings were real. 

“I’m not interested,” I spat while spinning on my heels, ready to walk back over to Noah. 

“He will allow you time to think about it, but not for long,” Uriel spoke. “I suggest you accept because the stench of humans is beginning to rub off on you; especially that mortal.”

Both of us glanced over at Noah who was watching us intently while talking with Jesse. They were still a good distance from us so I knew none of them could hear mine and Uriel's conversation. 

“Hm, he fancies you, Lethia. Tell me, how often do you walk in his dream? Quite often I suppose since he has those vulgar thoughts of you,” Uriel breathed against the back of my neck, fingers grazing over mine. 

My head snapped up to Uriel, creating distance between us by snatching my hand away from him. It was clear that I still was able to feel the touch of fellow angels, just not mortals.  

“You don’t know anything! He’s a good man offering me a place to stay away from Maraxa and Lucifer,” I seethed. 

His eyes darkened, almost as black as my wings. “You must not heed to their demands. If you even think about joining Lucifer's army, any chance of you getting back into the Kingdom will be long forgotten. The King is only allowing you one chance. Erase that mortal mind or stay on this putrid planet and walk among these disgusting creatures.” 

“Trust me, I have zero intention of joining Lucifer. It’s because of him I fell into what I am now. But the thought of joining a Kingdom that banished me also isn’t quite appealing,” I scoffed and walked a few steps away from him when his next words gave me great pause. 

“What if I sweeten the deal?” 

Turning slowly on my feet, I held out a hand. “I doubt it but go ahead.” 

Uriel pursed his lips before running a hand through his already perfect long, golden hair. “It is known that Lucifer is looking to revolt and he’s trying to find other fallen to join his army; for example, you.” 

I shook my head. “I already told you, I have no interest in joining him.” 

“The King can be quite lax with this upcoming war. He thinks he has enough soldiers for it but if I’m being frank, without Oblivion, we have no chance.” 

Every part of my body chilled to the bone as all the breath was snatched from my lungs at hearing that name; I hadn’t heard it in so long. 

“I’m not that person anymore,” I stated. “I haven’t been for a very long time.” 

“If you come back to the Kingdom, you can bring him with you. But still would need to erase his memories of you.” Uriel nodded behind me. 

To Noah. 

“What?” I stood tall. “How would that work? He’s mortal, he wouldn’t survive in the Kingdom. Not to mention, the King would never allow it.” 

That’s when something sparkled in Uriel’s eyes. 

“You two will dethrone the King.” 

I laughed out loud at his words. “Dethrone the King? Show up to the pearly gates so we can spit in his face?” 

“Think about it,” Uriel stepped closer to me, running a hand through my short locks. 

“If you accept to dethrone the King, lead the army in victory against Lucifer, you can bring the mortal with you and rule the Kingdom. However, he would have to be a mere peasant there. He cannot remember who you are. Think of him as a mere pawn for you to play with.” 

I stood frozen under his touch as he twirled a strand of hair around his finger. “I’ll even return you to your old physical state. Which you should be thankful for because this one doesn’t suit you.” 

The promise of not only going back home in my old form but being able to bring Noah with me made something inside of me light with the life I’d been searching for since I fell. But it wouldn’t be easy to bring a mortal into the Kingdom; there was only one way to enter. 

Being an eternal being. 

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered under my breath. 

Uriel smiled as he removed his hand from my hair. “I suggest you do because the longer you try to hide your true form, well I don’t need to remind you of what will happen.” 

No, he didn’t. 

My wings will deteriorate. My powers will weaken. Slowly over time, I will lose myself in my mind. 

With a scowl, I turned my back to him and finally sauntered back over towards Noah, who met me halfway, quick to pull me into his embrace. 

“Everything alright?” He brushed away some stray hairs from my face. 

“I need to get far away from that man,” I begged, parts of me that I didn’t want to remember coming back with force. 

“Did he hurt you?” Noah’s hands were on both sides of my face, almost mute against my skin. “Are you alright?

“Please,” I grasped at his arms, digging into the material of his jacket. “Can we leave? Seeing him brought up far too many memories I’d like to forget”. 

Noah nodded while wrapping an arm around my shoulder to begin leading me back down the hill, Uriel’s voice calling after us. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Lethia!”

JOLLY

“This place is called what?” 

Noah chuckled at Lethia’s upturned head at him with furrowed brows. “In-N-Out. They’ve got great burgers here.” 

“Burgers?” She said slowly. 

I watched as Noah explained the menu to her, what’s good and what to stay away from. Revealing that she wasn’t particular to any kind of food, he took it upon himself to order her a cheeseburger, fries, and a large chocolate milkshake. 

“Oh, that milkshake sounds delicious,” Lethia mused with a bright smile.

There was a faint smile on my face as I continued to watch the two of them, Noah sliding his hand on the lower back of Lethia as they waited for their food. She had slipped on his sweater on the way down from the mountain, the sudden change in the wind causing all of us to feel a frigid chill.

After Lethia spoke to that old friend of hers, something shifted with her. Noah could tell instantly because he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, not wanting to let her more than a few inches out of her sight. 

“Something doesn’t feel right about this guy,” Noah muttered to me as we watched Lethia and her friend converse. 

I held him back with a grip on his elbow when he nearly stomped over there seeing Uriel run his hands through Lethia’s hair. 

“Jolly,” he warned through gritted teeth. 

“Just give her some time alone, like she asked. If she’s uncomfortable, she’ll let you know,” I said. 

I could practically see all the worry leave Lethia’s body when Noah’s arms wrapped around her not even a minute later. 

I couldn’t explain it, and frankly, I don’t think Noah could explain either how Lethia entranced him since he found her in our driveway all those weeks ago. He claimed there was this undeniable pull between them and almost as if it was fate that they kept running into each other.

There’d been this light in Noah’s eyes every time he looked at Lethia, shining brighter now knowing and witnessing they kissed. He’d become transfixed ever since that first meeting even when she had her hand wrapped around his throat. We all should have been terrified of the strength she possessed when she tackled Folio to the floor or with how tight her grip was around Noah. But if he didn’t feel harm when he was around her, the least we could do was trust her. 

“What do you think?” Noah asked. 

She nodded with a mouth full of food then once she swallowed, Lethia took a large gulp of her milkshake. “Delicious.” 

While I ate my food, I continued to carefully watch them as the others around me had their own conversations. I didn’t miss the way when Noah muttered something in her ear, Lethia’s cheeks turned a deep crimson, like her eyes. 

She had her milkshake halfway to her lips when her body stilled, a painful grimace crossing her features. Those eyes scanned the entirety of the restaurant, almost looking for someone. 

“Are you alright?” Jesse questioned. 

“Uh,” Lethia winced, nearly doubling over in pain when she grasped at the ends of the table. 

A small gust of wind bristled by our table, tickling the back of my neck, and as I rubbed there Lethia quickly rushed to her feet. 

“I need a moment,” she grumbled before rushing out of the restaurant. 

Noah wanted to go after her but decided against it, knowing she needed time to herself. 

“Anyone else think she does that a lot?” Michael questioned. 

Noah sighed while running a hand through the long strands of his hair. “Lethia has a lot going on right now. She needs help.” 

“What do you mean?” I asked while tossing my garbage on the tray in front of me. 

There was slight hesitation from Noah for a long moment until he eventually divulged to us that he believes Lethia is running from an ex who wanted her back, even though he kicked her out of their house. 

“Oh, right. Lucifer,” Michael snorted. “Are we sure she doesn’t have this obsession with the occult or some shit? The only Lucifer I’d heard of is the supposed devil. 

Orie smacked him upside the head. “Dude, Lethia is not dating the devil.” 

“She’s not dating anyone,” Noah’s eyes sliced over to him but they softened when he realized his words. “Lethia’s not dating anyone.” 

“Then what do you call what’s going on between the two of you?” Jesse wondered. 

“I don’t know,” Noah shrugged. “I like her but I don’t want to rush her into anything she doesn’t want.” 

“From what I’ve seen, you’re not. Whatever you’re giving her, she’s reciprocating it back. Lethia feels the same, Noah. You don’t have to worry about that,” I assured him. 

All he did was nod as he kept his gaze on the door of the restaurant where Lethia stormed through minutes before. 

LETHIA

“Come to me, Lethia. My queen. I need you by my side to rule.” 

I clawed at my ears, digging out Lucifer's voice, and continued to run into the woods behind the restaurant. My body ached with the pain of my wings nearly forcing their way out of my back. It’s been a few days since I let them out and it was beginning to crush me. 

“I miss you, Lethia. I need you again.” 

“Stop!” I cried while falling to my knees in the leaves and dirt, hands covering my ears. 

“I’ll never stop until I have you in my presence. You are mine, Lethia. Not his.” 

All but ripping Noah’s sweater off of me, I tossed it to the side just as I let out a sheer groan of agony mixed with ecstasy when my large wings exploded from my back. The force of them caused the branches of the trees around me to falter, some falling to the ground around me like drops of rain. 

My jaw was slack as I peered up to the gloomy grays of the sky, an upcoming storm about to ravage through the city. All the pain I felt inside the restaurant was long forgotten, replaced with the intoxication of my angelic being. My powers began to slowly fester low inside of me and with an open palm, I watched the bright light slowly begin to grow into a baseball-sized orb then with a flick of my wrist, I sent it to a tree far off into the distance, incinerating it completely. 

My body vibrated with all of my senses. I could hear the chatter of people miles away, feeling the slight creep of chills against the skin of my back when my name came out from the chatter. 

“Lethia.” 

Before, it was Lucifer speaking in my mind. But now, that voice that uttered my name was the same that spoke when he was kissing me last night. 

My left wing came around to the front of me, blocking me from anyone who dared to venture into the woods and a broken sob fell from my chattering lips. They were deteriorating at such a rapid pace. While they were still large, dark, and caused fear to any mortal who saw them, my wings were a pathetic excuse to any other angel. A few feathers drifted into the wind, the weakness from hiding who I was taunting me. 

“There she is. I knew you couldn’t hide who you were. The darkness lies inside of you, begging to awaken.” 

I sucked in a gulp of air when Maraxa’s voice crept into my mind now; the cold and monotone bringing a chill to my bones. 

My eyes rolled to the back of my head when a vision slammed into me. 

Noah and the guys sitting in the booth of the restaurant, smiling and laughing with a group of girls that sauntered up to the table. One of the girls was standing a bit too close to Noah, as he signed something for her. When he handed it back, their fingers grazed over the girl’s. His almond eyes snapped from her hand to her face, gazing at all of her features.

“No!” I screamed while rising to my feet. “Stop. I know what you’re doing!” 

“Oh, sweet Oblivion. I’m doing nothing that your mind is already thinking.” 

The way Maraxa uttered my other name made me whirl around, thinking she was here with me. 

“I’m not Oblivion anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time,” I spat, eyes scanning my surroundings. 

“You should see yourself. Looking like a mad angel who lost her mind.” 

Uriel’s warnings were right. My wings were deteriorating and now, I was losing myself in my mind. Were these voices even in my head? Or had I been imagining them since my fall? 

“Lethia?!” 

My head snapped up to just outside the clearing of the woods, Noah’s faint outline slowly closing the distance. 

“Oh, you’re thinking of letting him see you in your true form. Surely, he will think you’re even more of a freak than how you look. He wouldn’t understand.” 

Meraxa. 

The voices wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I smacked my ears to drown them out. 

“This mortal will never understand you. You’re mine, Lethia. Mine and no one else's. I will have you in my arms once again.” 

Lucifer. 

“Stop,” I cried while falling to my knees again, my wings wrapping around me in a protective barrier. 

“Dethrone the King and all of his kingdom will be yours.” 

Uriel. 

“Lethia? Are you okay?” 

Noah. 

Snapping my eyes open, they landed on Noah who was now a few feet away from me. With a roll of my shoulders, I stood to my feet, appearing just as I had moments before leaving his presence. 

NOAH

“Lethia, are you alright?” I questioned as she appeared through the clearing of the woods. 

I felt Lethia brush past me as she walked back toward the car, not uttering a word at me. My heart sank slightly but I did my best not to dwell on it because of our moments together in my bedroom and the bathroom last night. The unbridled passion between us was burning over into undeniable attraction. 

With a sigh, I tied my hair into a low bun, ready to go back home after this long day, but a flutter of movement at my feet caught my attention. It was a lone black feather, just like the one I'd found that first night Lethia appeared in my life. 

Bending at the knees, I reached for the feather, and then with a gasp of breath, I felt my vision being yanked away from me at the edges, darkness encompassing every part of me. I felt my soul being dragged away into another dimension, tumbling into a brighter vision of pure peace and eternal life. 

A woman with white golden hair stood in front of me, even brighter wings protruding from her back, as she held onto less fragile wings from the man who kneeled at her feet. 

"Oblivion," he cried. "Don't fall into the true meaning of your name, please." 

The woman; no angel cocked her head to the side with a slight wicked smile. 

"The King bestowed this name to me for a reason," was all she said before the man's cries of death and pain erupted but were overshadowed by the sounds of his wings being ripped from his back. 

With a gasp of breath, I was dragged back into the present, nearly stumbling onto my ass. Looking around my surroundings, I noticed I was back in Los Angeles, Jolly and Jesse slowly walking towards me. 

"You alright?" Jolly wondered. 

Ignoring him, I twirled the feather in my fingers and locked eyes with Lethia, who gave nothing away from her face except the slight flicker of light in her red eyes.

This vision didn’t feel like it was one of my own memories. It was as if I was dragged into someone else subconscious as I watched from the outside looking in. Something about watching the angel get his wings ripped away from him felt wrong, especially with the wicked smirk the female angel had on her face when she did it. 

I couldn’t ignore the way my mind vibrated with the familiarity of her. I knew who she was but she didn’t look familiar. Her presence was the only familiar thing about her and with a flick of my gaze to Lethia, there was a small part of me that knew who it was. 

With a sigh, I carefully pocketed the feather in my coat pocket and nodded over to Jesse who asked if I was ready to head back to the house. When I climbed into the car, I noticed that Michael and Jolly sat in the back with Lethia, so I retreated into the front seat of the car, while Jesse lounged in the middle with Harper. 

“Everything alright?” Orie asked as he pulled the car out onto the main road. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched Lethia for a few beats as she stared straight out of her window, not bothering to meet my gaze. I knew she could feel it burning into her but whatever happened to her outside in those woods rendered her speechless. 

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully before turning back to face forward with a sigh. 

As soon as we arrived back at the house, Lethia nearly jumped out of the car to run inside once Jolly opened the door for her. She locked herself away in my bedroom for the rest of the afternoon well into the evening. Part of me wanted to check on her if she was alright but it was clear she wanted to be left alone. If she needed me, she would let me know. 

Would she? 

With a shake of my head at the thought, I bid a goodnight to Jesse and Michael as we watched a movie together in the living room and slowly retreated up the steps to my room. The door opened a crack but before I pushed my way through, I noticed Lethia standing in the middle of my room in front of my mirror. She was only wearing a pair of black panties and a matching bra. I knew I should have averted my gaze to anything else but I was mesmerized by her. 

Lethia showed me her back, hands slinking up her spine towards the hook of her bra, the material falling to the floor at her feet. My breath caught in my throat when I noticed the large crow tattoo on her right shoulder blade. But it wasn’t just the sight of it that gave me great pause; it was the large upside-down V scar on her back. It wasn’t an old scar. It looked new; fresh. 

“What the?” I muttered, slowly pushing away from the door to stand in the middle of the landing above the stairs. 

With a glance over the landing, I noticed that Jesse and Michael were still sitting on the couch, and knowing Jolly and Orie retreated to bed earlier, the computer in the studio was free. As I came back downstairs to head into the studio that was off the den, Jesse raised a brow at me. 

“I thought you went to bed?” 

I motioned to the room in front of me. “Late-night inspiration.” 

Shutting the door behind me, I dropped down into the chair in front of the computer with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. My mind was full of different words, I wasn’t sure where to start. 

Black feathers. 

Vivid dreams. 

Crows in dreams. 

Upside-down V scars on a person's back. 

Angels. 

Fallen Angels. 

The last one made me freeze ever so still, a memory of my own past creeping into the front recesses of my mind. 

“Noah, dear! Come on. It’s time for your bedtime story!” 

Eight-year-old me ran down the long hallway of my grandparent's house into my bedroom there and hopped into my bed, where my grandma sat on the edge with a fond smile. 

“Lord of the Rings?” I asked while climbing under the blankets. 

She chuckled while tucking me in. “Now, what did I say about those books? Aren’t you a little too young for them?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Ok grandma, what’s the story tonight?” 

“Fallen angels.” 

“Like from heaven?” I asked with furrowed brows. 

“Now I won't bore you with all the details but there’s something special about them,” my grandma began while patting my thigh over the blanket. “When an angel falls from heaven, people think they’re automatically stripped of all their powers but sometimes that's not the case.” 

She continued. “There’s this story of a great angel that fell, her feathers scattered all over the world. Whenever a human touched them, they would be sucked into memories of the angel.” 

I gave my grandma a “you can’t be serious” look but she only cupped my cheek in response.  

“No one believed that angels walked among us until someone saw the scars on the back of one.” 

“Scars?” I said, sitting up straighter in bed. 

“Large ones on their back. In an upside-down V.” 

I choked on a breath nearly falling out of the computer chair but gripped the handrests to keep myself steady. When I was eight years old, I figured my grandma was blowing smoke out of her ass, telling another one of her many stories. But now, everything seemed to have a bit of truth. 

Biting my bottom lip, I clicked on Google and quickly typed the words into the search bar before I doubted myself a second longer. 

Fallen Angel.

I clicked on the first website. 

“Fallen Angels are angels who have been exiled or banished from Heaven. Often such banishment is a punishment for disobeying or rebelling against their King,” I read the words out loud. 

I scrolled down the page a bit farther, still muttering the words out loud as I read them. 

“If a fallen angel is impaled or struck in the scars created when his or her wings were ripped out usually spanning from shoulder blades to kidney area, he or she will be temporarily immobilized. Some angels still have scars even if they haven’t lost their wings. It’s easier for the skin to peel away for the wings to slip from.” 

I shivered at the phantom feeling but then froze when I read the next section. 

“A fallen angel is unable to feel physical pain or sensations.” 

Scrolling down a bit farther, it was then that I realized how right I’d been about this feeling festering within me; almost begging to be let out. 

“A fallen angel's feather holds a lot of power. It holds the memories of the angel and whoever touches them can find themselves in those memories. A fallen angel's biggest weakness is one of their feathers. If a feather is burned, the original owner of the feather will be chained in Hell for eternity. Otherwise, fallen angels are nearly as indestructible as Angels and Archangels.” 

I fell back into the chair and rubbed a hand over my mouth, letting everything I read process in my mind. Everything correlated to what I’ve noticed with Lethia especially the part of her not being able to feel anything. 

There’d been a few times when it seemed like my touch meant nothing to her. But when we kissed, it seemed as if she could feel that. 

The feathers. 

Even though I tried to deny what I’d seen when I picked up the feather today, I knew that it was true what I’d seen. 

But how come I hadn’t seen anything when I picked up the first feather? 

Hunching back over towards the computer screen, I read more into the section about fallen angel feathers. 

“The more fallen angel feathers you touch, the stronger your connection to their memories is.” 

With a purse of my lips, I rummaged around the desk looking for my lyric book where I had stashed the first feather, using it as a bookmark. The other feather was still in my pocket, weighing heavily with the fear of what I would see next. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears and feel it in my throat. It was suffocating, this feeling clawing its way inside of me, threatening to pull me under. 

Did I want to do this? 

Was I ready for what I could potentially see? 

Granted, I had to take everything I read online with a grain of salt because it could have been a bunch of made-up bullshit. But with it correlating to not only my grandma’s story but things I’ve noticed about Lethia, there had to be some truth to it all. 

“Fuck it,” I muttered while grabbing the feather in my lyric notebook at the same time I grabbed the one in my pocket. 

Darkness lingered at the corners of not only my vision but my mind as well. It dragged me under with no warning to the dark depths of what I could only assume was Lethia’s mind. 

My body landed with a thud to the cool wetness of the grass below me and quickly scrambling to my knees, I took in the vast empty field that went on for miles. Brightly colored trees lined the edge of the field and it was so quiet here that I could hear my blood running through my veins. 

“My love. I've been waiting for you.” 

Whirling around on my heels, I took in the sight of a tall man with skinny but large white wings extended from his back. His black hair was a mess of curls in front of his eyes and the dark levis hung low on his hips. The sheer brightness of his green eyes was almost eerie and I felt as if he could see straight into my soul. 

But he didn’t. It was as if he didn’t see me when he walked past me, over towards a lone figure lying in the grass a few meters away from me. 

Long golden, almost white, strands of hair fell around her shoulders as she sat up, bright eyes staring back at the man who was slowly closing the distance. I swallowed thickly when I recognized that face. 

It wasn’t the way I knew her but it was still her. 

Lethia. 

“Lucifer. You know you’re not supposed to be here,” she quickly rose to her feet, taking a step back from him. 

He stood in front of her shirtless, the defining muscles of his chest and stomach tightening as he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. 

So her ex actually was Lucifer. 

What the fuck did you just step into, Noah?

“I snuck away from the King for a moment. I needed to see you,” Lucifer tried to reach for her. 

Lethia smacked his hands away before running a shaking one of hers through her long hair. I then noticed she also had her wings exposed; large and as white as her hair. 

“We cannot be seen together! If the King finds out we’ve been together, he will banish us; or worse.” 

Lucifer chuckled darkly then pulled Lethia into his arms; her going willingly. 

I gritted my teeth at the jealousy that coursed through me, trying to tell myself that it was a very long time ago and it didn’t mean anything; not anymore. 

“My sweet Oblivion. The King wouldn’t banish his number one soldier. If he lost you, who would tear out the wings of the ones who went against him?” 

My blood ran cold at Lucifer's words. I knew that the first memory I saw had something to do with Lethia but I never put two and two together. She was the one who ripped out the angel's wings.

“I did horrible things back home and how could I ever be allowed back?

Her words from the last night made more sense now than they did when she first uttered them. 

“I cannot,” Lethia tried to fight against his grasp but ultimately gave in. 

“One more night. After tonight, I’ll let you be,” Lucifer’s fingers linked behind her neck, tilting her lips up towards him. 

“We both know we cannot stay away from each other,” she uttered before pulling him down to the grass with him. 

My eyes snapped open with a gulp of air and I gazed around the room of my studio, making sure that I was still alone. It took me some time to get my breath back to normal and my heart back to a steady pace. 

I slammed both of the feathers in my lyric book and hid it in the far back of the closet in the room, hoping no one else would find it. Those feathers held too much power and if I lost them, the looming fear of what could happen taunted me. 

“If an angel's feather is burned, they become changed to Hell for all eternity,” I reiterated the words I read earlier. 

Whether or not that part was true, I couldn’t risk it. 

Letting out a long breath, I shut down the computer and slowly slipped out of the studio, going upstairs to my bedroom unnoticed by Jesse and Michael who were still watching the movie. This time when I stopped in front of my room, I noticed the door was shut so I was quiet as I stepped inside, finding a sleeping Lethia cuddled under the mounds of blankets on my bed. 

I stood there for a long moment, staring at her back as it faced me, wondering what the scars looked like again underneath her shirt. 

My shirt. 

I had offered her to wear anything of mine and it seemed like she took me up on that offer. 

It was clear who she was running from. Lucifer. He wanted her back for reasons unknown to me but it was clear she didn’t want to go with him. 

I moved around my room quietly to change into a pair of sweats, opting not to sleep in a shirt only because it got extremely hot in my room during these summer nights, even with the air conditioner on. 

Softly, I got into bed behind Lethia as the faint breaths coming from her filled the air. For the first while, I laid on my back and stared up at my ceiling but when I noticed she didn’t move away, I turned to my side but still kept space between us. The heat from her body radiated around me, pulling me into her aura and I found myself never wanting to leave. 

Even though I knew what she was now, I wouldn’t tell Lethia I knew. This was something she needed to tell me when she was ready. 

Instead, I wrapped my arm around her midsection and pulled her into my chest. Although she might not be able to feel my touch, that didn’t stop me from running my nose along the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her. She must have showered because she smelled of peaches and a hint of something familiar. 

Me. 

I faintly smelled my shampoo in her skin and I hummed in pleasure. 

“What happened to the wall of pillows?” Lethia’s tired voice broke through the silence. 

I knew she was teasing when I heard her smile with her words. 

“This is much better than a wall of pillows,” I mused while I caressed her neck with my lips.

Lethia relaxed in my arms as she gave herself over to me and linked my fingers that rested on her stomach with hers and I wrapped my leg over hers, locking her in place. 

“Goodnight, Noah,” she murmured into the pillow. 

“Sweet dreams, Lethia,” I pressed a kiss to her head, finally letting the long day falter away with the darkness that swallowed us whole. 

[bbrissonn]

𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐮 - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐳𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬 (𝟏)

╰┈➤kinda nervous lol, making this on sept 22 at 11:51 pm. i came up with this idea for an au after seeing this post from @edwardslvrr like 2 hours ago

╰┈➤ october 8th bri bri here, decided to post this cause why not, it's all i've been thinking about since i started this au in my draft and i really want to make it public so yeah :))) hope you enjoy !!

╰┈➤ pairing: trevor zegras x ex!singer!reader

╰┈➤ masterlist

༊*·˚

-SEPTEMBER 1ST, 2023-

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: ̗̀➛ alannaoregon has posted on instagram for the first time in a while

alannaoregon

liked by jamie.drysdale and 1.8M others

alannaoregon so excited to announce that my sophomore album Tired of U comes out on October 13th !! this has been a work for almost 6 months and i cant wait for all of you to hear it. starting off with “i regret you everyday” coming out September 22th

much love, lana 🩵

view all 5,042 comments

becky.rivera GO BEST FRIEND

alannaoregon @/becky.rivera I LOVE YOU BEST FRIEND

user83 NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC

jamie.drysdale so proud

alannaoregon @/jamie.drysdale love you little one

user920 soooo we all agree on who all of these are gonna be about right…?

user726 trevor went from having 12 love songs written about him, to 14 breakup song 🫢

user02 @/user726 from obsessed with you to tired of u..

sabrinacarpenter so happy to be by ur side and see u grow, cant wait for everyone these masterpieces 🩷

alannaoregon @/sabrinacarpenter love you so much 🩷

user53 the way lana always uses a blue or white heart, but always a pink one for sabrina 🥹

user836 @/user53 glad im not the only one who noticed

user637 BAHAHAHA LIKE 10 OF TREVORS FRIEND LIKED THIS

load more…

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: ̗̀➛ alanna oregon posted a new youtube video

“Becky bring your butt over here.” Alanna called out, placing her camera on the counter of her bathroom. Her skincare products in front of her as Becca made her way into the room, waving at the camera once she was in frame.

"I'm here, I'm here." The Rivera girl said as Alanna grabbed her first product and started applying it to her face.

"Hi cuties, it's me, Lana." The singer said in a weird voice, one she used in every intro. Becca snorted a bit, making her best friend giggle a bit. "I am back with my girl Becky."

"That's me."

"And today, we're gonna take for a lake day with us. And through out the day, I am gonna explaining every single song from my next album, Tired of u, that comes out on October 14th." Alanna explained as she moved onto her second product. Next to her, Becca was nodding along to what she way saying, a proud smile on her face.

"Go pre-save it, guys!"

"And we're gonna be starting with a single, I regret you everyday, coming out on September 20th."

"Not gonna lie, I think that's one of my fav." Becky said as Alanna moved onto her third product. The singer had already made her best friend listen to the whole album, but the girl was there for the writing and producing process so she already had a good idea of what the song were like.

"So, I regret you everyday is a pretty self explanatory title for the song. It's pretty much about regretting ever getting into a relationship with someone, let alone even meeting them even if it's something you can't control." The girl started as she applied her sunscreen gently to her skin. "I think it was the second song I finished writing, maybe like a week after my break-up."

"Wasn't it two weeks?"

"I dunno know, doesn't matter. I was just crying on Becky's couch one day and just came up with it, she helped me write some of the lines."

"You can call me Shakespeare now." The Rivera girl joked, causing her best friend to giggle once again.

"Any who, I picked that song to be a single because I think it really gives off the vibe of what the album is gonna be. Also, because Becky said she'd hit me if I didn't put-"

"Lies!"

"If I didn't put out as a single. So, yeah, now you know!" Alanna continued, ignoring the look her best friend was giving her. She quickly cut the camera after that, laughing at Becca's expression that still hadn't changed.

༊*·˚

The next clip was of the two girls in the kitchen, preparing their breakfast for the day.

"I don't know if we said it before, but we're at Becky's family cottage for the weekend, so we're gonna go swimming this afternoon." Was the first thing said in the clip, Becky in the frame as she broke the eggs. Alanna was in the back, doors of the fridge opened as the looked for the milk.

"Then I am taking her out a date to the porch for dinner with the sunset."

"Fun fact for y'all, the photo on the back of the album was taken by the neighbors of me and Becky. So, thanks to them for their contribution to the album."

"And to my dock for being the front of it." Becca added as she now left the frame and Alanna was now the main focus.

"The next song we're gonna talk about is sunset chasing. Now that song was... very emotional to make, because as some of you might know, I am a whore for sunsets, and sunset chasing was something I did a lot with my ex." The girl started explaining.

"Big big whore for them!"

"In the song, the sunset represents like my relationship with said ex, and how I was like chasing after him and his attention even though we were together for years already. And I guess you could say there's like a double meaning I think, like how sunset chasing turned into me chasing him." She added, smiling slightly had Becca's words.

"I was once again present for the writing of this song and contributed." Becca said, walking back into the frame for a slight second, a proud smile on her face.

༊*·˚

"The birds are trying to eat my food!" Becca yelled out, a loud laughing coming from Alanna as she filmed her best friend shoo away the birds. The two girls were now outside, their breakfast in front of them as they sat on the porch, from which they had a nice view of the lake.

"Becca, don't hurt them!" Alanna said from being the camera, making the girl in question look at her like she was crazy.

"They're going for my food, Lana." There was a cut after that, and then the two girls were sitting around a round table as they slowly ate their food.

"Can I introduce this song?"

"Even if I say no, you'll do it anyways, Becky."

"Damn right I will. Anyways, guys, the next song is called 11 feet behind!" Becca announced to the camera giggling a bit after saying the title of the song. "What's that song about, Lana?" She asked with wiggling eyebrows.

"That song is about always feeling like you're always behind in your relationship. Like people know more what's going on in your relationship than you do, which, fucked up for one, and two really sucks, because it makes you feel like you mean nothing to your partner."

"Guys, let me tell, my girl did not hold back with this one." Becca giggled while talking to the camera. When Alanna had told her best friend she'd be using Trevor's number in one of her song titles, the girl gasped, calling her crazy because of it.

"I am speaking the truth."

"I'm so proud of you, lanny." Becca said randomly, looking over at her best friend. Alanna laughed a bit before giving the girl a big hug, laughing a little.

༊*·˚

"We're getting Starbucks!" Becca yelled out as the next clip started, Alanna's laugh being heard once again. The two of them were now in the car, Becca driving as the other girl sat in the passenger seat, holding the camera so they were both in frame.

"Which is like totally crazy 'cause the next song was written in a Starbucks."

"What a coincidence."

"Right!" The two girl joked, their chuckles echoing in the car before Alanna focused back on the task at hand. "Anyways, it's called Friend Stealer. Long story short, it's about getting dumped by a guy so he can go date one of your friend, that he met through you."

"Snakes." Becky could be heard whispering in the back.

"And the reason why it was written in a Starbucks is because I just wanted to leave my house, get some caffein, and as I was just sitting there thinking about the whole thing, the lyrics just came to me. So, I wrote them down in my notes, typing like a crazy lady on my phone."

"She was gone for like three hours, I was so worried!" Becca said, making Alanna roll her eyes slightly.

"Okay, that's a bit dramatic, I was gone for like, forty-five minutes maybe."

"Still scared me."

"Moving on, that song was probably what helped me really get over my break-up, well more like started the whole moving on process. I was really just writing what I was feeling and yeah, that song was born. It was the first one that I found the melody for, but I think it was like, the forth I wrote, and that's when I decided I was making an album." The singer explained with a shy smile, recalling the happiness she had felt after finally writing out all her anger.

༊*·˚

"We're back in the car! Becky, what'd you get, girl?"

"I got a grande iced coffee with a splash of cream, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut." The girl explained her order, shaking her drinks around. "How about you, m'lady?"

"I got the same as always, my sir. A venti brown sugar oatmilk shaken expresso, only three pumps of brown sugar, three pumps of white mocha and no cinnamon."

"For all of you who didn't know, Lana's my sugar mommy, and she paid for my drink." Becca spoke, grabbing the camera for it was focusing on her. Her best friend scoffed a bit before bringing back to camera on her as Becky started to drive.

"Killing us softly is the name of the next song we're gonna be talking about. The title pretty much says it all, it just talks about how someone in a relationship just doesn't care enough and it's slowly killing their relationship." The clip cut right after the girl was done talking, and the next clip was of her sitting in her bed, filming on her phone with her headphones on.

"Guys, my camera died, oops. And at first Becky and I were gonna go to Target, well we still did, and film the next song in the car. Obviously, we couldn't do that, and my dumb ass forgot to like, go to the song we were gonna do in the car. So, here it is!

It's called mascara stained cheeks, once again, title says it all. But, it goes more into details about how toxic my relationship with my ex got, and how much he made me cry. Small reminder, that crying often in a relationship because of your partner, is not a healthy relationship, never has been and never will be. With that being said, next clip! Wait no, disclaimer, I got a little lazy with these, oops again, so the clips are pretty short. Okay, now, next clip!"

༊*·˚

The two girls were now laying on their chests on sun bathing chairs. The camera was set up on a small table in front of them as they both pushed themselves up on their chairs.

"30 seconds. Wanna do the honor's of explaining this one, Becky?"

"Yes please. This song is about how much of an asshole mister tiny dick was."

"Becca!"

"What? He was. Mister tiny dick broke up with my goddess of a best friend over a phone call, that lasted a solid 30 seconds." The Rivera girl explained, as Alanna gave her stern look.

"Becky, I'm gonna get demonetized because of you."

"Not my fault he had a tiny dick."

"Becca!"

༊*·˚

"Guys, it's editing Lana here again." The girl said, once again sitting in her bed. " So, apparently, none of my footage for the next three songs saved, yay. So, I am gonna have to do this little explanation segment again.

Okay, crushed mind. My baby, the second song I wrote, uhm, I pretty much got emotionally cheated on, so, my mind crushed. Oh my, God, I suck at explaining when I am alone. I feel so awkward just talking to my phone. Ugh, anyways, yeah, I don't know what else to say for that one.

Moving on, i miss u, this one I'm gonna explain so good, just watch, well listen... and watch. It's about missing the person your partner used to be, feeling like they've just become this whole new different person than the one you feel in love with. Which hurts, a lot. But, you know, people change, you can't get mad at people because of that... but you can write songs about it." The girl said, giggling slightly at the end.

"Last song that vanished, spinning circle, talks about conversations with my ex, would just be a spinning circle, I know the saying is like cycle or whatever, but the circle part is explained in the song. I can't tell you right now though, 'cause then I'm... I'm spoiling the like plot twist in the lyrics. Anyways, my camera figured itself out after that clip, so yeah. Back to Lanny and Becky from a week ago."

༊*·˚

The two young adults were sitting on the paddle board, which was tied to the dock so they didn't float away. The sun was beaming on them as their wet skin reflected the light slightly.

"I felt a fish touch me!" Becca gasped just as Alanna was about to speak.

"It's a fish, it's not gonna kill you."

"No, but you know what will, forgiving." Becca said, winking at the girl, clearly proud of herself for the word play. "Get it? 'Cause the next song is... forgive."

"Go you, girly. Forgive, is about forgiving myself for the pain I caused myself during the end of my relationship. Like, I knew it wasn't healthy and all, I knew I should've broken up with him, but I didn't. And it ended up hurting me a lot, and I wrote that song last, kinda like a letter to my past self, forgiving her for making me hurt."

"If any of you though it was about her forgiving mister tiny dick, you weren't alone. I though so too, and I almost wacked her when she told me." Becca said, using the nickname she had for Trevor once again. "Don't look at me like that, you're not gonna get demonetized!"

༊*·˚

"Okay, friends, it's now bedtime for us. We decided not to film after dinner, because we ended having a little heart to heart in the car after, and we just didn't really feel like it. So, we're gonna speed run the last three."

"Heist!" Becca called out. The two best friends were once again in the bathroom, now doing their nightly skincare.

"Going on a heist to get the smallest bit of attention from your partner." Alanna answered.

"heart n soul."

"How hurt my heart and soul were after my break up."

"Last one, tired of u!"

"Tired of... them. Yeah! No, uhm, I am gonna take a little more time on this one since it's also the name of the album. Tired of u, is just about how tired I was of how my old boyfriend was treating me and acting around me. And the reason I picked that name for the album, is because it really describes how I feel towards him still, and our relationship, even now. Overall, just tired of everything related to my old relationship, the media, the comments, just all of it."

"I got tired of him, too, Lanny." Becky said right before the clip cut, making the singer chuckle slightly.

༊*·˚

"Okay friends, we're now in our matching pjs, and we're gonna go to sleep now. So, thanks for hanging with us today."

"Don't forget to go pre-save the album!"

"And yeah, I'll see you guys soon. Bye bye!" Alanna said before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the lens, which Becca than repeated.

: ̗̀➛ comments

user80 the way every time she vlogs she always struggles with the camera- she's so me

user001 so excited to hear these songs, all of them sound so interesting !!!

user719 guys i think she's gonna release sunset chasing as a single before the album drops cause she did the whole album in order, expect for i regret you everyday and sunset chasing

user412 @/user719 OMG YOU'RE SO SMART alannaoregon @/user719 shhh bestie you're gonna ruin the surprise user719 @/alannaoregon OH MY GOD OH MY GOD HIIIII

[zepskies]

And So It Goes - Part 20

Pairing: Billy Butcher x OFC (Latina!OC)

Summary: As Madelyn Stillwell’s personal assistant, Helena Flores finds herself caught between protecting her job, and more importantly her life—or helping Billy Butcher bring down the supe who killed her best friend, Becca.

AN: We’re almost to the end!

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: Angst, peril, love triangle, a final showdown, character death, and a goodbye…

ASIG Series Masterlist

20: Father & Son

We’re probably gonna die, Helena thought, as M.M. pulled their off to a shaded side street behind Vought Tower.

Kimiko and Frenchie soon split off to get down to the lab, after Helena gave them precise directions on the best way to get there. While Hughie went to the Security control room to try and evacuate the building, Helena went with M.M. and Annie up several floors to find Butcher and Soldier Boy.

Once they got up to the upper floors, they came across a few stray Vought employees that were hastily making for the stairwell. When M.M. questioned where they were going in such a hurry, one of them answered, “Homelander’s about to fight Soldier Boy.”

Helena, M.M., and Annie continued at a faster clip down the hall, where they were able to hear familiar voices. M.M. slowed them to a stop in front of an office door, drawing his gun. Annie stepped in front of them protectively.

When she broke into the room, she raised a glowing hand. She soon dimmed it when she realized what was happening. Even M.M. stopped short, but Helena pushed through them both as her mouth fell open.

“Ryan!” she gasped.

He was with Homelander at the far end of the room. They, along with Butcher, Maeve, and Soldier Boy turned their heads at the intrusion. It was three on two, but Homelander had a loose and familial hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Ryan, a—are you okay?” Helena asked. She tried to step forward, but M.M. held her back. She glanced at him in annoyance, but he raised his brows at her.

She realized then he was just trying to protect her from making a potentially dangerous move forward, even though he was probably still angry at her. She was grateful, but still worried when she met Ryan’s blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” Ryan answered, though his voice had a slight shake to it. He seemed happy to see her (as happy as he could be in a moment like this), but Homelander’s hand kept the boy from taking a step forward. Helena softened, her heart aching. Homelander must have found him…and taken him.

She glanced at Butcher next. He was eyeing her in what the bloody hell are you doing here sort of way. She gave him a look he ought to know well. 

For you, you idiot. But her focus shifted back to Ryan.

Without Helena realizing, Ben’s gaze had drawn to her—at her panic-stricken face when she saw the boy with Homelander. Now that he knew who Ryan was, it made Ben look at her harder. She’d known what she was doing when she kept that information to herself, about her best friend’s son. His grandson. But Ben also begrudgingly understood why she kept that secret.

She was an idiot to come here though. His mouth firmed in a line when, unbidden, something she’d told him filtered back through his mind, on that first late night in her home.

“Why’re you up, anyway?” Ben asked.

“Well, I could blame it on the pain,” she replied, after downing two pills with her water. “But um…I keep replaying yesterday in my head, over and over like a bad movie. It always stops at the part where I look up at Homelander’s psychotic fucking eyes, and I just…I knew.”

Helena shook her head. Ben’s lips tugged downward.

“Knew what?” he asked.

“I’m officially on his hit list now,” she said. 

And the way she couldn’t help but look at Homelander in fear, like the supe was some kind of monster… Ben couldn’t help thinking (deep down), would she say the same of him?

“Don’t you see?” Homelander said. Once again, he commanded the attention in the room, even though it was Ben he was talking to, as if all the others didn’t matter. They were just specks in the realm of his existence.

Homelander smiled. “You have a family. You have him, and you have me.”

He nodded at Ryan, his hand tightening a fraction on the boy’s shoulder. Ben saw the kid tense up a little. Ryan’s eyes shifted from Homelander behind him, to Ben. And then beyond him, to Helena, and even Butcher. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to be, and Ben saw it.

Deep down, he could relate.

He stared back at Homelander, this thing that should’ve been his son. Ben’s lips quirked, and he stepped forward.

“It’s a shame that I’ve missed so much,” he said, in the face of Homelander’s burgeoning tears. “I wish I could’ve raised you, and taught you, father to son.”

“That’s okay,” Homelander whispered. “We’re not alone anymore. We have each other.”

Ben’s smile became more dry. He grasped Homelander’s shoulder. “Maybe if I’d raised you, I could’ve made you better. And not some weak, sniveling pussy, starved for attention. But there’s no fixing that now.”

“Weak?” Homelander echoed. His expression had dropped from tearfully hopeful, to shocked, and the beginnings of anger. “I’m you.”

“I know,” Ben said, hating the way his lips actually trembled at the admission. “You’re a fucking disappointment.”

He grabbed at Homelander’s face, tilting his laser eyes back. Butcher and Maeve came up on either side to secure the supe, but Ryan protested.

“Ryan, get out of the building, now!” Butcher told him. Still, the kid pushed back to try and help his father.

Helena broke away from M.M. and Annie in their shock to go to Ryan, but M.M. reacted at the last second to grab her arm.

“Let go of me!” she whipped back. M.M. stared down at her incredulously. She was human, the same as him, but unlike him, she wasn’t a fighter. She didn’t even have a weapon on her, let alone one that would work on Homelander or Soldier Boy.

“Are you crazy?!” he asked.

“Are you?” she retorted. She twisted out of his grip and managed to slip away from him.

By the time Helena turned back to the scene before them, Ryan’s eyes were glowing red.

He shot a laser beam right at Soldier Boy, knocking him through the far wall and onto his ass. When he got up, shaking rubble from his shoulders, he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

Fortunately, Helena reached Ryan just as Ben took a few intimidating steps forward.

“Ben, stop!” she shouted.

And it actually halted the supe’s steps. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pulled into a frown. His gait was tense, but she held her ground with her arms wrapped around Ryan. The boy’s fear made his eyes dim back to their normal hue as he glanced up at her, and then back at Soldier Boy. She was able to slowly tug Ryan behind her. 

“Please, don’t hurt him,” she said. Her tone was pleading, a hint unsteady. If he really wanted to get to Ryan, he’d have to go through her first.

Ben knew it…and found himself conflicted.

Meanwhile, Butcher had been mostly distracted with trying to help Maeve (and now Annie) keep Homelander held down. Now, he realized just how much this was all about to cost him. His eyes widened when he saw Soldier Boy’s threatening stance.

“Helena!” he called out, just before Homelander broke free. He punched Butcher down with a crack against his face. V24 was coursing through the man’s veins, allowing him to take the hit and deliver one right back.

“Scorched earth, eh William?” Homelander taunted. His red-hot gaze glanced in Helena’s direction. Butcher sneered and landed a blow right between the supe’s eyes.

Helena and Ben shared one last look.

Finally, he relented. He turned away with a surly frown, jumping back into the fray with Homelander. That was his real target, and she was grateful, blowing out a relieved breath before she turned back to face Ryan.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked.

She set her hands on his shoulders. “That’s my line, bud. Come on, let’s go.”

He resisted when she tried to pull him away from the warzone happening far too close for comfort, in an office that was not meant to contain a whole five-on-one super battle.

“No!” Ryan refused to move, shirking her grasp. “Homelander…he’s my dad. He cares about me.”

Helena let out a shaky breath. She laid more gentle hands on his arms.

“Ryan, he’s using you,” she said. “Whatever he told you, maybe he believed it…but I doubt he’s truly capable of caring about anyone but himself.”

“No, that’s…that’s not true,” Ryan shook his head in protest. When he pulled away from her, she tried to hold onto him a bit tighter so he wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire of the battle. M.M. saw them both and was trying to get around the danger zone himself to help them, but Ryan wasn’t helping Helena at all.

In fact, he broke away from her with such strength, he actually pushed her to the ground. She gasped at the impact when she fell. Not just at the shock of it, but at the pain; it disrupted her still broken ribs…which she’d ironically gotten when Homelander shoved her into a wall back at Herogasm.

Fuck, she sucked in a pained breath. She also saw the shock and dismay cross Ryan’s face. He hadn’t meant to push her that hard, to hurt her. She knew it when she saw that look.

She held up a hand to him, “It’s okay. I’m okay—”

 But in his guilt, Ryan backed away from her. He bolted out of the enclosed office and towards the rest of the fight that had finally moved into the other room.

“Ryan!” Helena called, even as he was escaping her. With difficulty, she got back onto her feet.

She was startled half out of her skin when Ben was flung into a nearby wall, making her scream and duck for cover as debris and office supplies exploded as a result. She took another painful spill across the floor. And rolling out of her inside pocket of her jacket came a small, green vial of V24.

Her eyes zeroed in, just before her hand closed around it. She dragged herself off the floor and back onto her feet, and then towards Ben, who was growling and shaking the dust off. He was prepared to head back into the fray, where the rest of them were still fighting Homelander. Ryan was hovering at the edge, scared and worried, no matter who got punched or tossed.

That’s it, Helena thought. Fuck it all.

“Ben,” she said raggedly, earning his attention. “Can you do me a favor?”

She went to him and offered him the tail end of a syringe she’d been storing in her other pocket. It was a miracle that it hadn’t broken in her tumbles.

 “Out of the fucking way,” he barked, after he eyed her in irritation. Clearly, I’m busy, his face suggested.

She took one of the biggest chances of her life and grabbed his arm.

“Please! I need your help,” she said.

He looked down at her through furrowed brows, asking a silent question with his eyes. Why me?

Her hand was shaking. She really just couldn’t bring herself to inject her body full of poison…but she had to.  

“I don’t want to be anyone’s weakness. I don’t want to be collateral damage,” she said. “But more than anything, I’m sick of being afraid.”

She grabbed his hand and put both the vial and the syringe in it.

“Goddamn it, Ben, just do it!” she said, through tears.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her arm, found a vein, and did his best to inject her correctly. But when that vile shit hit her system, she nearly collapsed.

“Fuck,” he muttered, but he kept her upright. She shuddered, her eyes briefly closing. All the while, Ben’s grip remained steady. Inside, however, he didn’t know why the fuck he was doing this. 

It felt too close to being soft. But maybe it was because a part of him, deep down (a part he didn’t want to think about), wanted to prove he was still some kind of hero. Or maybe, it was because he felt like he was repaying a debt.  

When the pain subsided, her body hummed with chemical electricity in her blood. She breathed through it and nodded.

“Thank you,” she said. After a short hesitation, his hands fell from her. Ben responded with a nod.

He turned on his heel and was about to head back into the battle fray, but was hit with a star bolt. It pushed him back a few feet but didn’t bring him down. His head snapped up with annoyance. Helena looked over with wider eyes to find Annie, now joined by Frenchie, Kimiko, Hughie. M.M. sideswiped Helena, forcing her out of the way while Kimiko and Annie surged forward against Ben.

With the temporary V coursing through her veins, Helena was finally strong enough to push back against M.M., making him stumble. He stared back at you in surprise.

“Are you on V?” he asked. “Did you just shoot the fuck up?”

Her lips pursed. She couldn’t deny it, nor would she.

“You know it’s fatal after a few doses, right?” he said tersely.

Helena’s eyes widened. She looked over at Butcher, who was still fighting Homelander and taking hot lasers to the arm, blocking his face.

She didn’t know how many doses he’d taken, but she could hazard a guess.

Too many.

Ben startled them both by tossing both Annie and Kimiko at opposite ends of the room. He stalked forward, ignoring her and M.M. in order to get to Homelander.

M.M. tensed up, like he was about to follow the supe, but Helena grabbed his arm.

“Look, I know what he did to you, but let him at least end Homelander, for fuck’s sake!” she snapped.

“Do you want the entire building to blow the fuck up?” he shot back. He gestured over at Ryan, still huddled against the wall. “Try to get him out of here first!”

On that, they could agree.

Just then, Homelander tore through the room with his laser vision, regardless of who or what he hit. When the beam swept across the middle and went for Ryan on the other side, Helena ran to him and had them both dive for the ground. She protected his head.

Meanwhile, Butcher grabbed the supe by the cape in attempt to bring him to heel. Ben came up on the other side and pinned him down to the ground while Homelander fought both of their holds.

Ryan turned onto his side after Helena raised off of him. He looked up at her with wide eyes, but there was guilt behind them, lingering from when he pushed her.

“Why…why are you and Butcher here? Why do you hate my dad?” he asked. His voice was so small and upset, it made tears well up in Helena’s eyes.

“I’m here because I care about you,” she said. “Homelander’s not your father. Not really. He’s the reason you and your mom were alone for all those years. He’s the reason she couldn’t be with Billy, and why you had to grow up alone. Your mom was protecting you from him.”

Tears stung at Ryan’s eyes as well. He bit his lip and shook his head; he didn’t want to believe her.

“You’re wrong,” he said tremulously. “He’s…he’s not mad at me for what happened to Mom. For…”

Helena had to try and swallow past a tight ball of emotion. She was about to respond when an iron grip tangled in her hair and grabbed her up. A shriek tore from her throat as she was yanked to her feet and almost off the ground. Her hands flew up to claw at Homelander’s.

Ryan’s eyes flew wide again. He scrambled onto his feet as well and faced his father.

“Stop!” he pleaded. “Don’t hurt her!”

Homelander tilted his head at his son, with a grim set to his face. “Don’t you see? They’re all cockroaches. They’re mud people. Ryan, they’re not like us.”

V24 didn’t take away her fear, Helena realized. It just magnified what was already inside. 

“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch,” she hissed, regardless of the terrified, angry tears burning in her eyes.

Across the room, M.M. stared down at Butcher angrily. It was hard to maintain it when the other man had just saved him from getting pounded with Soldier Boy’s shield, but M.M. had a high threshold of “Fuck you, Butcher” leftover. 

Despite that, M.M. helped Butcher pick himself up from the rubble. Then he noticed something else. 

“Butcher,” M.M. said sharply. Butcher followed his gaze and landed on Homelander; he saw the supe’s killer grip on Helena’s hair, with Ryan pleading at him to stop.

Butcher’s eyes widened. He called her name from across the room. 

Slowly Homelander’s head turned. 

He smirked. The kind of manic smile that said he’d get to have his revenge twice. 

His eyes took on a red, glowing hue.

But a violet haze surged from Helena’s hands, not only disrupting Homelander’s concentration, but forcing him to let go of her entirely. It was a forcefield that threw him back across the far wall.

She stumbled to her feet and would’ve fallen if Ryan hadn’t reached out to steady her. She gave him a grateful smile, and she let her arm fall around his shoulders.

Butcher was shocked, relieved, and angry all at once. 

When and how the fuck did she take Temp V?

Despite the look of surprise on most faces in the room, Ben was the only one who remained stoic.

Homelander peeled himself from the wall with a growl. He stalked forward, but he was met with Butcher stepping in front of Helena and Ryan. 

Butcher blocked the first punch Homelander threw. He just couldn’t avoid the second brutal one that cracked against his nose. Homelander twisted his arm and wrenched, until Butcher was forced almost to his knees.

“You may be hopped up, but you’re just a try-hard, dick-sucking groupie,” Homelander taunted. “Real power is—”

Ryan stumbled forward and pushed Homelander hard in the chest, enough to make the other man’s grip on Butcher loosen. Ryan moved to stand in front of Butcher and Helena.   

“Son?” Homelander asked, with wide, confused eyes. 

All the commotion in the room paused. Even the fight against Soldier Boy came to a standstill, including Maeve, who was sporting one eye and a bloody hole where the other used to be (courtesy of Homelander). She propped herself up against the wall and watched Homelander intently.

Soldier Boy watched as well. If he lit up the nuclear power in his chest now, he could make Homelander powerless. But…it would be hard to control it in here. He glanced at Butcher and Helena kneeling on the ground. She’d come to his side and was propping him up, just as his arm was around her protectively. 

I don’t want to be collateral damage, she’d said.

Meanwhile, Ryan was scared with tears in his eyes, but he held his ground against his father with determination. 

“Stop,” he said. “Please just stop.”

Homelander couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His own son was protecting the one man he hated most in this world. 

“But…why?” he asked incredulously. “I’m your blood. I’m…I’m your family.”

Butcher grabbed Ryan’s jacket.

“Ryan, don’t,” he said. Ryan looked over his shoulder at them, at Butcher.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Butcher didn’t entirely know what that meant, but he couldn’t help but marvel when the kid turned back to face his father.  

“I understand you, Ryan. Better than anyone,” Homelander said earnestly. He probably even believed that.  

Ryan lip wobbled with emotion. He hadn’t realized it, not until Homelander grabbed Helena and threatened to kill one of the only people who’d ever been nice to him. Ryan saw it when Homelander had turned to Butcher next, with something evil in his eyes.

“You’ve hurt everyone I care about,” Ryan realized, with a small gasp of a sob. “You…you hurt my mom.”

Homelander’s eyes soon became glassy, angry, and insane.

“I think you took the fucking cake on that one, sport,” he retorted. 

Ryan flinched. Tears poured down Ryan’s cheeks as that blow cut into him. 

But he instinctively let those emotions fuel him. He hovered above the ground in flight, almost eye-level with Homelander. His eyes glowed red. 

Homelander smirked through unshed tears. He supposed it was fine; he’d been prepared to rule through fear before. 

You don’t need anyone, that voice deep inside whispered. Not even Ryan.

And here, Ben finally saw his chance. 

“Hey, Real Power,” he snarked, just before he grabbed Homelander by the edge of his cape and headbutted him. After throwing him off balance, Ben kicked him into a glass coffee table, making it shatter. He continued forward and grabbed Homelander by his collar next. 

Then he began to charge up that nuclear power in his chest. Homelander grabbed his arm and tried to twist out of his grip, but Ben held on in determination. Maeve helped him by kicking out Homelander’s knee. She and Ben briefly shared a grim look. 

“We could’ve taken on the whole world,” Homelander gritted out. Ben smirked. 

“Maybe. But I never took well to sharing the spotlight,” he said, and threw another punch that snapped Homelander’s head back. All the while, his chest continued to illuminate and become impossibly hot. 

If Ben let go of his power now, he could end Homelander for good. But if he did, he’d probably level the whole block. He glanced over Homelander’s shoulder. Butcher held both Helena and Ryan, waiting to protect them from the impending blast. 

Butcher kept Helena close with an arm around her waist. Deep down, Ben reluctantly felt a twinge of jealousy. Until Helena peeked up fearfully and found Ben’s eyes. Even with the power V24 gave her, he doubted it would do them much good. 

With that brief distraction, Homelander broke free with an angry shout.

“Goddamn it,” Ben growled. 

While the other supe tried to fly backwards to save himself, Ben rushed forward and leapt, grabbing the supe in mid-air. They both crashed through the far window out of the Tower.

Ben blasted him with everything he had.

Homelander tried to fight off his hanger on, but the power behind the blast disrupted his own, including his flight.

And from that great height, Soldier Boy and Homelander fell. Whatever wasn’t contained by the two of them grappling hit the rest of the Tower behind them.

Inside the building, Helena managed to draw up a forcefield that protected them all from the initial blast. Whatever she couldn’t cover was eaten away, leaving a giant hole in the side of the building. Butcher looked up at the violet haze, then at her with consternation.

“Oh, don’t even,” she snapped at him. “One dose of Temp V won’t kill me.”

His lips pursed, but he still helped her up to her feet, along with Ryan. Helena checked the boy to make sure he was all right. She brought her hands up to his cheeks and held his face.

“You okay?” she asked.

Ryan smiled a little a nodded. “Yeah.” 

She smiled back. “Good.”

Butcher’s lips twitched. He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but he also moved a hand down to the small of Helena’s back, earning her attention. For a moment, their eyes met. That look was charged with unspoken meaning, cutting through things like, “I told you so,” and “What were you thinking?” And, “You ass.”

But the common denominator of it all was this.

Butcher tugged her close for a hard kiss. His beard was rough, his grip was tight, but his lips were tender. She responded in kind, gripping the shorter hair at the back of his head and matching his passion with her own.

He pulled away after a moment, meeting her eyes with a silent request. She held his cheek, and she nodded. Later they would hash the rest of this out, but for now, this was enough.

Butcher then turned to Ryan and took a knee in front of him.

“You don’t hate me anymore?” Ryan asked, in a small voice.

Butcher sighed, wiping a hand over his tired face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “for what I said last time. What happened to Becca, to your mum…it ain’t your fault, son.”

Ryan’s eyes glistened with tears. He sniffed, and Butcher squeezed his shoulder. 

“Look, kid. I’m not a good man. Christ, you’re already a better one than me. But, as long as you want me around…I’m here for ya.”

Ryan hugged him. Butcher was surprised by it at first, but slowly, he let himself hug Ryan back.

Helena teared up and laid a gentle hand on Butcher’s back. Hughie even came up on her left to nudge her shoulder. She smiled and patted his arm back. The others, though battered, bruised, and in some cases bloody, had gotten back on their feet. 

“Butcher, we gotta go,” M.M. reminded him. “Homelander and Soldier Boy damn dear exploded the block down there.”

Homelander’s crash landing had created a crater inside the ground outside of Vought Tower. Coils of smoke came off of his body, as most of his uniform was burnt off, along with a good part of his neck and torso. 

Butcher stood over him, creating a shadow that Homelander couldn’t escape. Homelander opened his eyes wide, as if to laser him, but nothing came out. 

His eyes widened in shock this time. “What the fuck…” 

He crawled out of the crater, his uniform in tatters. He managed to stumble to his feet and throw a punch at Butcher, who easily dodged. 

The blast had done its job. Homelander was a powerless mess. That realization dawned on the man, and soon had him frothing at the mouth in disbelief. Butcher pulled out a gun from his belt, a formerly useless gun, and shot Homelander in the head. Right between the eyes. 

Homelander’s body fell to the ground, just as Helena came out of the building with Ryan. With a gasp, she shielded the boy’s eyes.

“Don’t look,” she told him. Ryan allowed himself to bury his face against her chest, biting his lip as a few tears escaped and soaked into her shirt.  

Grace Mallory showed up minutes later with two SUVs of CIA agents for the cleanup—not only to set a perimeter around the crater, but to take Homelander’s body. Helena had Mallory steer Ryan away, though she promised to check on him soon.

Helena was going to join where Butcher, M.M., and the rest of them had gathered next, but she noticed something. There were drops of blood leading away from the crater, into a nearby alley.

With suspicion churning in her gut, she followed the trail into the alley. By now it was still dark outside, even with the sun starting to peek out from between the city skyscrapers. The deeper part of the alley was still cast in darkness.

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the waist, at the same time another covered her mouth. She gasped and was about to scream, when she came face to face with Ben. He shushed her.

She frowned at him with furrowed brows.

“Ben?! What the hell?” she hissed between his fingers and tried to pry them off. He eventually let her go. He still had a supe’s strength, so she could assume that the blast had only taken away Homelander’s powers, not Ben’s.

“What are you doing?” she asked, both incredulous and annoyed. “Are you okay?”

He gave you an amused smirk. “I’m fine.”

He hadn’t been sure what she would do when she saw him. Ask about his wellbeing wasn’t it, but it had smugness welling up in his chest. It seemed like she didn’t hate him too much after all.

“I know all about the Mob Squad’s genius plan to gas me up and stuff me in a goddamn box,” he said, less pleasantly. “That’s not fucking happening.”

Helena’s lips pursed. “So what are you going to do?”

Maybe she didn’t want to see him in a box either, and maybe he’d just done the entire world a solid by taking out Homelander, but that didn’t mean Ben wasn’t dangerous all on his own.

“I’m taking my well-earned vacation,” he said. His smirk deepened. “But two tickets to paradise could be arranged.” 

Helena sighed with a smile, shaking her head. 

“I don’t think so, Ben,” she said, though she tilted her head at him. “You could be a real hero, you know. If you did the work.”

He stared down at her for a moment. He eventually quirked a grin. 

“A lot of your friends would call that a lost cause,” he said.

“Prove your father wrong. Prove me right,” she said, raising a brow. “I dare you.”

“Hmm,” Ben said. He considered her as his smirk softened slightly, into a more sincere smile.

Instead of answering her, he slid a hand around her waist and pulled her flush against him. She gasped and held onto his arms on reflex. It gave him the opening he needed to steal a kiss.

Helena was too shocked to heed her first instinct, which was to slap him in the face. 

He soon pulled away, giving her another familiar smirk at her angry, blushing face. 

But after he stroked her cheek and finally let go of her, she realized that this was a goodbye.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart,” said Ben.

He backed away from her, deeper into the darkness of the alley. She couldn’t see him well, just the outline of his broad form, but she thought she heard the last bit of his voice.

“Goodbye, Helena.”

And then he was gone.

AN: Sigh. Thus ends Homelander, son of no one. How did you like Ben and Helena's goodbye? 😂

We're at the end, folks.

Next Time:

When his gaze found hers, they didn’t need words.

They were home.

His head bowed to greet Helena with a kiss, languid and unhurried.

His hand moved under the sheets to slip under her silky top, splaying across her lower back. Her arm twined around his neck in turn, her fingers slipping into his dark hair. Hers was already wild this morning; it both tickled his arm and fanned across her pillow.

She nipped his bottom lip and earned a pleased sound from him, deep in his throat. But before he could roll her onto her back, they heard quick footsteps coming up the stairs.

Butcher groaned, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder. But a smile twitched at his mouth.

“Incoming,” he muttered.

Keep Reading: Epilogue

The Boys Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Tag List:

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[blindmagdalena]

Don’t know if you’ve answered this or not and I’m very sorry if you have but I’m dying to know if you have a favorite scene between Homelander and Ryan?

i mean..... all of them??? 😭 okay typical answer maybe, but recognizing Ryan's panic attack and immediately getting him outta dodge will always be top tier for me. it displays a level of emotional awareness and care that we don't often get to see from Homelander, and it's VERY near and dear to my heart.

also also also!!! the overwhelming concern he had for his boy after getting knocked back by Soldier Boy, completely disregarding the fact he himself was in immense danger with SB, Butcher and Maeve right behind him.

one moment i really enjoy that's a little less healthy is when he's putting Ryan to bed, and he has the 'we're gods' talk with him. i like this moment because it's a great character insight moment for Homelander. we already know how lonely and desperate to connect he is, but i think it's interesting that the way he chose to try and connect with Ryan was by emphasizing just how special Ryan is, how alone and unique they BOTH are. it really feels like Homelander is speaking to his inner child here, and telling him 'everything is gonna be okay because you have someone who's like you, someone who will understand you.' it's a really unsettling scene contextually—uncomfortable for Ryan and a literal nightmare for Becca—but SO interesting as a character study on Homelander.

THE HUG. WHEN HOMELANDER FINDS RYAN AGAIN. "You know it wasn't your fault, right?" I could cry for days about this moment. i love it so much, it was such a gut punch, and something Ryan desperately needed to hear.

I could talk forever about this but I'm just gonna cap it off with some of my favorite gifs 🖤

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi!

Firstly, thank you so much for all you do, it’s much appreciated 🥹 secondly, I’m not sure if this is something you’ve answered already so apologies in advance if it is, tumblr’s search function is not exemplary 😅

I was hoping you’d have some alternatives for “my throat tightens” or “I swallow hard” to use in difficult, emotional moments? I feel like I’m using them way too much and I’m drawing a blank. When I try to search for it I’m just getting results for dysphagia 😂

Thank you! 🖤

Cues for Difficult/Emotional moments

There are only so many ways to describe a tightening throat, and no matter how you word it ("my throat tightens," "I swallow hard," or "a lump formed in my throat"), it's still repetitive. You're over relying on the internal cues in one part of the body (the throat) rather than the many, many others that give us emotional cues.

For example...

Lungs: - "my breath hitched" - "I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks" - "my breaths became shallow" - "I let out a long, shaky exhale" - "I drew a deep breath through my nose" - "My chest felt tight"

Chest/Heart - "my heart pounded" - "my heart sunk" - "my heartbeat turned to a panicked flutter" - "my heart thudded in my chest" - "I was too aware of my beating heart" - "My chest swelled with fury" Stomach/Core - "My stomach churned" - "A queasy feeling settled in my gut" - "A fresh wave of panic made my stomach tighten" - "My insides churned like a turbulent sea" - "My insides felt hollow, filled only with sadness"

I could go on, but I think you get the point. Take a moment to take stock of where you feel emotion in moments like the one you want to describe. It's not just something you feel in your throat. :)

If you have a little cash to spend or can put it on a gift list, I highly recommend picking up a copy (in print or e-book) of The Emotion Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi. Even as a seasoned writer, I still find this resource to be incredibly helpful when I'm stuck on what internal or external cue would be perfect for what I'm trying to convey.

If nothing else, you can also Google "internal cues to indicate anger" or "external cues to show sadness" and see if any good suggestions come up.

Happy writing!

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