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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months ago

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Part 17

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: does anyone mind the slightly longer chapters? I feel like I keep accidentally adding scenes in and I’m not sure if it’s too much? Anyway, regardless of length, I hope you enjoy! 🧡💛

word count: 8,024

-Part 16- -Part 18-

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“Was that necessary, Mor?”

Neatly groomed brows narrow over hard amber eyes, stood at the edge of the room, still cast in shadow before walking to be stood closer to the bed that’s been pushed so it’s beside the open window.

“Stay out of it, Az,” Mor murmurs, arms folded over her chest, eyes cast downwards. “You should be focusing on getting better.”

Azriel is quiet for a bit, his gaze weighing on her but she makes no move to look at him, a hint of anguish in her normally bright expression. He sighs, shifting against the pillows as he glances out the window, inclining his head a little as a light breeze washes over him, sending silky strands of hair fluttering up from his brow.

“You know she didn’t do it to hurt you,” he says, watching as the clouds shift in composition in the sky, small dots flying in the distance as they arc and dip with the winds. Hazel eyes flick back across the room, but Mor’s head is still lowered, her expression resentful. “You know you were being cruel.”

“And you’re in a position to criticise me?” Mor replies quietly, hard amber piercing into him. “You’re the reason this became such a mess. You should have said something. There’s no way you couldn’t have noticed.”

“I made a mistake,” he concedes reluctantly, holding her gaze.

“You made more than a mistake, Az. Now we’re all hurting because you—”

“Mor,” Azriel interrupts. She stiffens but doesn’t yield, that look of reproach returning to her expression. “You can’t lash out at us whenever you hurt,” he says thickly, still watching her. Silence stretches between them, centuries worth of history pulled taut in the quiet.

“What does Rhys think?” Mor diverts, successfully switching subjects. Azriel sighs, leaning back into the pillow, “about which part?” Mor’s brows narrow a little, “all of it, I suppose.” Azriel’s jaw works, glancing briefly out the window again to peer up into the sky, the winds calling to him and his wings move subtly at his back, repositioning themselves against the large stack of cushions placed to prop him up.

“He’s furious that it got this far,” he replies, features carefully neutral as he answers the question. Amber eyes observe, offered insight through those years of friendship that others might struggle to pick out—the guilt he feels for failing. Not just her, or Mor, but Rhys and Feyre. For inadvertently allowing a situation to unfold where his brother would be forced to remember those months…years of grief after his family was slaughtered. After his sister was murdered. The whole situation is dredging up unwelcome memories, for all of them. They can’t let another one be lost.

“He wants to know how Eris even got to her in the first place,” Azriel admits, glancing warily at Mor to gauge her reaction. “You don’t know?” She asks, pushing past the tightness in her throat at the mere mention. But the Shadowsinger shakes his head. “There wasn’t really time to ask,” he supplies quietly. She wasn’t really even in the right mindset to be asked.

“What about Cassian?” Mor queries, but Azriel shakes his head.

“You know I won’t tell you.” Because to know Cassian’s thoughts on the matter would likely be to know Nesta’s, and that isn’t the kind of emotional intimacy any of them would be comfortable with. It’s strange how emotions intermingle like that, how swiftly things can complicate themselves when new figures are added to the equation.

A beat passes, then Mor’s shifting on her feet. “You know, there was a time when we shared everything between us. Wasn’t that easier?” She asks neutrally.

“Mor,” Azriel warns lowly, causing Mor’s upper lit to curl slightly.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Az,” she mutters, resting her full attention on the injured male. “Don’t act like you’re completely blameless.”

“Assigning blame won’t fix anything,” he replies shortly, hazel eyes losing a little of their softness. “I’m sure that narrative suits you well,” Mor counters sharply. “I think you’re glad that I said those things to her so that you have a chance to redeem yourself by condemning me. You’re the one who started this whole mess, so—”

“Mor.”

“Shut up, Az,” Mor hisses, warmth vanishing from her face, eyes hardening as shields rise. “Don’t you dare try and twist what happened. You made mistake after mistake because you were too busy chasing Elain, and too busy ignoring what you didn’t want to acknowledge by hiding behind your work instead. At least I had a damn reason. What was yours?”

Azriel gives nothing away, his expression cold and blank.

“I tried to help her, I reached out my hand and offered her a chance. And she repaid that by going to Eris,” Mor hisses, unable to help the stark pain that bleeds into her fury. “She could have come to any of us. It’s more than we ever had, and yet she ignored it. Then tries to pretend it away? I’m not immune to that. If she can’t even be bothered to care about my pain why should I give a damn about hers?” Mor breathes, eyes feeling hot as the words gush out. “It is nothing compared to what we endured.”

————

You manage a small smile as Madja enters your room, Elain closing the door behind her as she takes a seat at your bedside.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Madja asks as she settles in the chair provided for these visits, a kind look on her face that you know you should be grateful for, but it’s difficult to summon anything when you know she can’t do anything. All this is, is documentation. An observation to see what happens to you. Because it’s undeniable something is happening.

You swallow thickly, but nod your head. “Good, for the most part,” you answer, truthfully. “I’m still feeling generally fatigued, but I wouldn’t say it’s particularly interfering with my day? I’ve had some pains in my stomach and back though, but I think they’re just…you know…” Madja raises her brows in question, silently asking you to continue. Heat rises beneath your skin and you avert your gaze, hands wringing together beneath the duvet.

“Would it be more helpful if it were just the two of you?” Elain suggests carefully, and teeth push into your lower lip. Then you give a small dip of your head, too embarrassed to look her in the eye. But she doesn’t seem to mind, telling you’ll she be a few rooms over, and will return once the examination is done. Madja looks patiently at you, a kind expression on her features that soothes you slightly. She’s a healer, surely she’ll have seen and heard worse…

You clear your throat, peering into your lap to avoid looking at her. “I think they might just be…” you trail off, glancing at her then gesturing vaguely to your stomach, hand hovering over your abdomen. There’s nothing impatient in her smile as she speaks, “your cycle?” You snap your eyes away, a flush of mortification rising to your skin, shoulders tightening as you stare into your lap but force yourself to nod.

“It’s perfectly fine to speak about that with me,” Madja says gently, “it’s a normal occurrence with females, there’s no need to be embarrassed about your own body. There’s nothing wrong with it.” You nod again, just to try and appease her, but in truth you’re desperate to escape the subject. “I’m sorry, I just— I find it hard to believe you aren’t…uncomfortable, discussing such topics.”

“Well, I’ve been a healer for most of my centuries in this realm,” she says calmly, and you can imagine that kind expression on her features, peaceful and infinitely patient. “I’ve worked during both wars, not to mention helping with your sister’s pregnancy. There’s very little that could ever cause me discomfort in regards to how the body works, so you don’t have to concern yourself.”

You shift again in the bed, but manage to nod your head. Madja seems to be satisfied with the response, smile broadening, and a slight bit of tension is relieved from your shoulders, breath easing into your lungs. “So you’ve been experiencing some abdominal and back pain?” She questions, and you nod again, feeling a little useless. “Can you describe it to me?” She asks, and you swallow thickly. “I…it’s like a dull ache in my back, near the base of my spine but a bit to the right. Then it’s quite sharp in my…abdomen. It doesn’t happen often, but I thought I should mention it…”

“I don’t think you should be experiencing any pain at all,” Madja replies. “And may I ask when you’re next due for your cycle?” You look away briefly before again meeting her gaze—nothing to be embarrassed about, she’d assured. “In about three months,” you answer quietly.

Madja nods in approval, and you begin to relax back into the pillows. “And have you noticed any bleeding at all?” She asks gently, and you freeze in the bed.

“No,” you answer hurriedly, without thinking, “no. Not from— No.”

“Alright,” she smiles calmingly, “anywhere else? You have some scabs on your hands, isn’t that right?” Your throat rolls but you nod, releasing your tight grip on your nightgown, bringing yourself to raise them from beneath the duvet so she can examine them. “And these bumps,” she inquires, “can you tell me how long those have been there for?” You blink, trying to remember—they’ve been there for months it feels like, but it can’t have been that long, can it? How long has it been since you first told Azriel?

“I think…” you hesitate, unsure of yourself, “maybe a month? Two? They don’t hurt, but they do sometimes…bleed.”

“Okay, would you mind if I had a look at them?” She requests, and you silently offer her your hands for her to take. That tingling warmth feathers beneath your skin, as if the flesh has fallen asleep, and you watch curiously as she probes along your knuckles, examining your palms, grazing your wrists. “And may I look at the area you experienced the pain in?” She asks, and you stiffen but nod. It’ll be the same thing as last time, you hope, and that wasn’t too bad since she had managed to work through the fabric of your night gown. The duvet is rolled back and you sit straighter in the cushions so she’ll have better access.

“Can you point out where exactly you were feeling the pain?” She requests, and you gesture to a horizontal strip of skin below your middle. “It was the sharpest here,” you answer, “but I sometimes get a small ache further to the left or right.” Madja doesn’t reply, her expression showing concentration as she moves her hands across your stomach, gently pushing at the parts you’d mentioned as that warmth settles pleasantly into you. You can’t help as your attention drifts to your own hands, how flaky and lumpy they are in comparison to her tender set. It’s so dry, small scabs where blood had leaked from…you wish at least the bleeding didn’t happen. So many pairs of gloves you have to wash repeatedly to make sure there aren’t any stains.

It’s become such a normal part of your life it had slipped your mind that pain shouldn’t be a normal part of it, nor the bleeding.

The bleeding…

A cold feeling washes over you, like you’ve had ice tipped down your spine as you remember the scare you’d experienced in the Autumn Court.

If Madja notices how you’ve frozen, she doesn’t mention it, but a slow feeling of slippery dread unspools in your stomach as you recall the blood you’d noticed when visiting the washroom one morning. You’d thought it was your cycle—the slight pains had added up and the night sweats had made sense—but then nothing had happened and you’d forgotten about that blood.

Nausea churns in your stomach, a district feeling over lightheadedness overcoming you and you force the calm breaths into your lungs…deep, and steady. You choke on saliva and your palm flies over your mouth as you twist your head to the side, coughing.

Madja glances up at you, brows slightly pulled together from concentration. “Have some water—are you remembering to keep yourself hydrated throughout the day?” She asks, handing you the glass that rests by your bedside table. “For the most part,” you answer after taking a few sips. Madja pauses briefly, a look of consideration passing behind her eyes before speaking, “would you mind if I checked your lungs? It’s likely nothing, but might as well be sure since I’m here, don’t you agree?”

You blink at her, looking slightly perplexed but you suppose there’s no harm in it, so you nod your confirmation, handing her back the glass before settling into the cushion. That familiar warmth tingles in your skin as she tentatively lays her fingers just below your collar bones before pressing down a little firmer and making her way from one side to the other. Her features remain set in an expression of concentration and she returns to the tops of your sternum before going a little lower. You tense, but understand she’s performing a medical examination.

“Can you sit upright a little more? I’d like to search a little lower, just by your ribs,” she adds, seeing your startled expression. You nod, understanding, sitting more upright independent of the cushions. “Now if you can raise your arm?” She requests gently and again you follow, raising your left arm so she has access to the side of your ribs. The tingling sensation returns and you think you can feel as it searches through your body, though it doesn’t feel invasive like you had expected.

Madja’s fingers pause, before she’s pressing noticeably firmer and you have to steady yourself so she does upset your balance. The sensation becomes more acute, able to feel as the tingling feeling concentrates near the middle left of your lower ribcage. When she retracts her hands she looks a little confused.

“Is everything okay?” You ask nervously, uneasy by her expression.

“There’s what feels like a small lump connected to the tissue of your left lung,” Madja explains calmly, and you nod your head. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to try and purge it. I haven’t seen it in any other patients, and there’s no reason for it to be there—it isn’t a natural part of your body. Would that be okay?”

You nod your head—if she’s found something wrong with you, that sounds promising…? And if she thinks she can…purge it, that seems even better.

“Alright, if you lean back into the bed to keep your upper body relaxed that would be perfect,” she guides and you settle down. “Okay, I’m going to apply my magic to the growth. You might feel a sudden heat or a ticklish sensation but if you can avoid coughing that would be helpful,” she explains, and tension rises in your chest as she again puts her hands against the side of your ribcage.

Sure enough, a sharp heat fills a spot on your lung, and you press your lips together to prevent from coughing or inhaling suddenly despite the abrupt tickle that’s manifested in your throat, an intense itchiness in your lungs…an itchiness growing in the tips of your fingers…growing hotter…and hotter…beginning to burn, and…

Madja pulls away, a gentle smile on her face, “all done. You did well not to start coughing in the middle there, it helped make the process much easier for me.”

“So, it’s gone?” You ask perplexedly, hand gingerly rising to press into your ribs, testing as you inhale. Sure enough, the tickling feeling has gone, and so has the tightness in your throat, suddenly feeling much clearer. Like when you’d had a cold as a human, feeling the distinct relief once you were able to breathe freely again, having to become reliant on inhaling via your mouth rather than nose. One never appreciates how seamlessly their body works until it’s compromised.

Madja smiles, “it’s gone.”

A hesitant smile makes its way across your mouth, peering down to where you hand is settled.

Maybe it isn’t as bad as you’d been telling yourself.

————

Golden eyes gleam from within the home, the scent of rosemary so familiar emotion swells in your chest.

“Hey, Bas.”

He pauses briefly, and you hesitate, waiting to see what he’ll do. Then he’s shifting in the doorway, opening it wider cautiously as he take you in, taking up most of the entryway. “You’re back…” he greets, but the note of caution in his voice has you hesitating again. But you push a small smile to your mouth, remembering yourself. “I’m back,” you agree, nodding your head slightly, “how… How have you been? Everything okay?”

Bas is silent, simply watching you with an indistinguishable look and you resist the urge to move beneath his attention, instead waiting it out, wondering what he’s thinking.

“Where were you?” He asks, catching you a little off-guard with the question. You hadn’t really considered he might question where you went. “I was… I visited another Court. Temporarily. Just to see more of the world, I guess…” You peer up at him—he isn’t moving from the doorway, remaining blocking it instead of inviting you in like you’d anticipated. Things feel strange, to how you remember them. “Is everything…okay?” You hedge.

“Is everything okay?” He repeats softly, as if to himself. His golden eyes regain awareness, pupils tightening as they look at you. “Why don’t you tell me?”

It’s enough to have you faltering, temporary confidence stumbling as you peer up at him questioningly. “I…what do you mean?” You ask, unsure what he’s asking after.

“I mean, why did you disappear like that, huh? You just— went. Without telling me where, without telling anyone where, apparently. Do you know how dangerous Prythian can be? Especially for someone like you, and you just decided to leave? What were you thinking?” Bas asks, his patience steadily slipping as he speaks, thoughts pouring from his lips. “Someone like me?” You repeat faintly, pinning him with a look, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re smart. Not strong,” he answers succinctly, but bluntly, “you should know what sort of creatures are out there.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you the night I left,” you counter, a note of disbelief in your voice.

“Because you’re smart,” he repeats as if it’s obvious. “You’re smart, so I assumed you’d make a smart choice. Not just go out into Prythian on a whim. You don’t even know how to fight. Do you understand what could have happened to you?”

“Bas, I’m fine,” you reassure, trying to understand his temper is coming from a place of concern. “I…I went to meet someone. I didn’t just go out into the wilderness, you don’t need to worry,” you explain, knowing it’s best to keep the details vague.

“You know your family came to visit, right?” He asks, again catching you off guard as you stare at him. “No,” you answer, quietly, “I didn’t. Who—… What happened…?” Bas shifts in the doorway, settling to lean against the threshold of the entrance, and a small grain of relief passes through you at the distinctly familiar gesture. “Azriel visited first, and I told him he wouldn’t get anything out of me because I had decided to trust that you knew what you were doing. And you know what he told me?” Bas asks harshly, shaking his head and not waiting for reply. “He told me I was interfering with Court affairs, that withholding information might result in the High Lord personally questioning me. And I still didn’t tell him anything.”

“I…I’m sorry, Bas,” you manage, guilt at last beginning to rise in your chest, head lowering slightly. “I’m…thank you. For trusting me.”

“I’m not done,” Bas says quietly, but firmly, causing you to glance up at him questioningly. “He came back, that time with Mor.” There’s no way for you to conceal the pain and conflict that passes through your expression. Even if you could, even if you knew how to hide your emotions like that, you have the distinct impression he knows you well enough he’d be able to see through it, and the thought is surprisingly uncomfortable for you. Knowing someone so well they could see through your lies…that kind of vulnerability…

“She was the one who convinced me to admit I had no idea where you’d gone. She was clearly worried, and I had to look at her and tell her how you hadn’t trusted me enough to say where you’d be going, but that I had decided to trust you enough that I’d been fine not knowing.” His voice has lowered, becoming rougher, and your shoulder slope with shame. “Can you understand that? To realise you’ve been deceived by someone you cared for like that? To admit that to people who had been smart enough to know better?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, raising your eyes to meet his, gloved hands wringing together. “I didn’t mean for it to seem like I didn’t trust you. I do.”

“Then where were you?”

You raise your head to look at him, then. Heart sinking because—you can’t tell him. You’re in enough trouble as it is, with Rhys, with Mor, with Azriel. Probably with your sisters too, they just haven’t shown it yet. You can’t cause more problems. More problems for them is more consequences for you, and you have a long list of things to make up for. Dauntingly long. Almost unbearably… “Bas…I…”

“Can’t tell me?” He finishes, his tone telling you it’s exactly what he anticipated.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you say softly, holding his gaze imploringly. “You know I trust you. That I’ve told you things I could never—… That I could never tell anyone else…”

“Then why can’t you tell me, huh?” He asks, a touch more gentle, sounding as helpless as you feel.

“Just…I need you to…”

“Trust you?” He scoffs, shoulders jerking in an unnaturally sharp movement.

“You’d made it sound like they didn’t care about you,” he says quietly, and you look at him wearily. “I thought you were on your own, you know.” Like me, is what he leaves out, but you can hear it clear enough. “I have my ma, and you have your sister, but beyond that I thought you had no one but me.” And I had no one but you—again, you can hear those words he’s not saying. “That we were going to be there for each other because we understood what it was like. But they care for you.” A strange sense of shame settles heavily on your shoulders, and your head lowers, but you don’t look away.

“It was obvious,” he murmurs, his brows curving almost imperceptibly, a kernel of pain passing behind sharp golden eyes. He sighs, shaking his head, pushing up from the doorframe and you watch silently as he begins to draw the conversation to a close. “I won’t begrudge you of that. I’m glad you have people. Family. But I…” You lied.

“I don’t—” You say abruptly, rushing into speech, hurting without thought, just needing to explain yourself, even if it opens up something you aren’t ready for. “They don’t,” you breathe. “I—… It might look like they do, you might know they do. Maybe they really, actually do.” You stare up at him, feeling that emptiness lethargically blink itself awake, mouth yawning open in preparation to begin swallowing you down again. Pulling you into that inescapable state of overwhelming darkness. “But I can’t believe it,” you whisper, feeling as your eyes fill with wetness, and something hot spills down your cheek, another following when you blink to clear it away. “I can’t…” you breathe, trailing off. “It doesn’t matter what happens, Bas. I just—…I can’t believe it.”

“And I should believe you?” He asks quietly.

You stare at him helplessly. There’s nothing else you can say. You’ve tried to convince him, you’ve been as honest as you can physically tolerate, and it…it just isn’t enough. You aren’t enough.

Your heart doesn’t plummet like you’ve learned to anticipate. Instead a vague feeling of disappointment calmly soothes your skin, glum pessimism setting in as the high emotions fade into watery greys. Desaturated, and bearable.

“I don’t know what else to say,” you tell him quietly.

“Just tell me the truth,” Bas asks, golden eyes showing his hurt. Another case of betrayal you’ve brought upon yourself.

Would it be unfair to ask his forgiveness?

“I’m sorry,” you give as your answer. There’s nothing else you can say.

Bas’ eyes dull slightly, and you understand how you’ve let him down.

His jaw works, looking away briefly before returning his attention to you. “I��ll see you later.”

————

The wind breezes through you as you walk along the cobbles, the sun long since dipped down beneath the horizon, leaving a chill in the air that manages to sink through the silky orange material of your scarf.

You can’t bring yourself to try and tackle the emotional conflict with Bas yet. You’re drained, and tired from the past months—maybe longer—and you don’t want to put yourself through more self-inflicted sadness. If you really need to release some bottled up emotion, you know you’ll have no choice in escaping it. If you have the option to keep yourself from hurt, you’ll take it. At least for the moment.

Bas had said he’d see you later—you have to trust him. As a friend, as someone who’s been there for you, and you for him—you have to believe you’ll be able to fix this. There’s good in the world, Feyre had told you, you just have to trust that you’ll find it. Even if it’s seemingly alluded you until now, in the moments you’ve needed it most.

A silhouette seems familiar in your peripherals, a distinctly fae sense recognising the shape, or…something, of the figure, and you glance over.

Cassian raises his hand in greeting, his expression clear and untroubled as he walks over to where you’ve paused, wings kept neatly tucked at his back to keep them from bumping into things. “You know, I’ve been told you’re supposed to be staying in bed,” he greets in his deep voice, tone similar to one someone would use when catching another doing something they aren’t supposed to, but considering joining in anyway. It’s very him, in a way.

“I…” you begin, about to mention Bas, but then decide otherwise. “I’m feeling okay today. I thought a walk might be nice. Fresh air’s supposed to be good for you, right?” You ask lightly, volume low. Cassian’s quiet for a beat, unnervingly sharp hazel eyes weighing into you calmly. Then he sighs, shrugging his shoulders a little before shifting on his feet, making to turn around, to lead you somewhere. “I suppose I can’t fault you for keeping things to yourself.”

You watch as he turns, obviously expecting you to go with him, but the moment caught you off guard. “…keeping things to myself…?” You hedge, managing to get your feet moving to walk a little behind him, not particularly wanting to go with him but knowing it would be unreasonable to turn away. Especially after all the trouble you’ve caused—like having such poor control of your—

You halt abruptly, staring up to the cliff-face that contains the House of Wind. Sure enough, even from so far below, you can spot the large break in the rock-face, able to pick out what had been your bedroom, and the sides of the rooms either side of it. You feel as the blood drains from your face, shock icing your body as you’re unable to look away—you caused that. “Something wrong?” Cassian asks, calling back to you a few steps away.

Words have left you, unable to figure out what to say, mind struggling to wrap around all of it. Another thing to make up for, and that one’s pretty big, too…your shoulders slope as you stare at the hole blown out of the rock. The damage you’ve probably caused the interior too… How much will it take to repair that? Isn’t the building itself old? Even to fae standards?

How can you ever make up for something like that?

Cassian walks back over to you when you don’t reply, pausing at your side, hands on his hips as he follows the direction of your gaze. “Pretty impressive,” he says conversationally, “you’ve got a way to go before you can manage an entire building, though.” Then he pats you lightly on the shoulder, wing curving round your body to get your legs moving as you’re pulled away, view with the House broken.

“I—…” you choke out, “did…did I do that?” You manage hoarsely, looking up at him as your feet start moving one in front of the other, subconsciously wary of bumping into his wing. “Sure did. Blew right through that noise cancelling ward Feyre put up,” Cassian answers, keeping his attention ahead as he leads you through the city streets, people automatically making way for the familiar face. “I told her she’d been slacking off in practising her magic,” he murmurs under his breath, but you aren’t paying much attention, too overwhelmed with debt to really engage.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, feet hesitating as they move over the cobbles before stopping firmly, shoulders bunched as you glance up at him. “I’m so— I didn’t mean to make such a mess— I just— I just didn’t— I didn’t know what to do. And I thought he was going to—”

“It’s okay,” Cassian says firmly, standing in front of you so there are less places to look away to. “It’s Rhys’ anyway. You don’t need to apologise to me.”

“But…it was given to you,” you hedge, staring up at him—and if it’s still Rhys’, that’s so much worse. So, so much damage.

“Would you feel better if someone was angry with you?” He asks seriously after a moment of pause. You freeze, startled by the question. “…what?”

“Would it make it easier?” He repeats, watching you solemnly, “if we acted how you’re waiting for us to?”

You stare at him, struggling to pull together a reply, startled from the strange clarity of his questions. Seconds pass and all you can do is look at him, too afraid to answer—not of him, but…something.

Cassian breaks the connection, glancing away, half turning his body to face the direction you’d been walking. “Maybe that question was too much,” he says, almost to himself. He sighs, eyes closing briefly, before he’s glancing at you, wing opening as if to guide you along again. “Come on,” he says, voice having lost that solemnity, back to the familiar timbre, “we’ll be late.”

“Late?” You manage as you somehow get your body to fall into step beside him. “What…where are we going?”

He looks at you strangely, as if the answer’s obvious. “Dinner, of course,” he replies, returning his attention to the streets ahead, sure enough taking the path that will lead directly back to the River House. “They’ll start without us if we aren’t there on time.”

“Dinner?” You ask, feeling lightheaded. Too many new components being dropped on you for you to entirely keep yourself together. You swallow thickly, fumbling for excuses because you can’t do a dinner as you are—not after yesterday. “I’m not feeling too great, actually,” you say hoarsely, “besides, if I eat this late I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it…” you trail off, realising he probably doesn’t want to hear about you throwing up meals every now and again.

“Madja’s told us you need to keep your strength up,” Cassian replies, and you’re unsure if he’s intentionally chosen a counter-argument you’d have trouble escaping or whether it was inadvertent. “Eat what you can—it’s important during recovery, even if it might feel insignificant, or pointless.” You glance at him again, that strange feeling creeping into your chest at his wording—is it some kind of intuition that’s leading him to say these things?

“…Will everyone be there?” You ask quietly, trying to calm yourself as the River House comes into view, not far away now. “Az will probably want to eat in his room,” Cassian answers neutrally after a temporary pause, “but everyone else will. You’ll be sitting besides Elain.” There was no reason to add that on.

You can’t manage it, but you can’t figure a way to escape. There’s no out you can find—saying you aren’t hungry, or you’re tired won’t get you out of it, he’s already said to just eat what you can meaning you have to have at least a bite or two. But the idea of sitting with all of them, when everything is still so unclear…You can’t.

The River House looms before you, and you can swear you feel a cold sweat appear on your back, hands turning unnaturally clammy, so accustomed to the skin being dry and flaky that to feel the dampness on your palms has slippery discomfort roiling in your stomach.

Cassian walks up the steps, hand settling on the door, and you watch in motion slower than usual as he begins to turn the handle.

A slight breeze blows, pulling strands of your hair forward, as if trying to push you into the House, and Cassian pauses, door opened only a few inches. Beats pass, but you keep utterly still, both wanting the moment to end but also desiring nothing more than to run from the oncoming meal.

Strangely observant hazel eyes flick over a broad shoulder, meeting your own set and you tense, hairs rising at the nape of your neck, getting that same feeling you’d had when speaking with Rhys, that he can somehow see through you too clearly, like you’re too easy to read. Fearing what he’ll be able to find before you’ve had the chance to discover it. Watching you fumble in the dark for something that was so easy to locate. Struggling with a problem embarrassingly simple to decipher.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he says, holding your gaze. Are you really that easy to see through? But then he continues, and the surrounding world warps a little.

“You have a right to be at that table as much as any of us,” he says, those keen hazel eyes remaining steady. “Keep that in mind, when you go in.”

Then the door’s opening wider, and the smell of a hot meal wafts out into the night. You trail behind him, latch clicking at your back, following as he makes his way to the dining room. He had believed the words he’d told you, that you were deserving of a seat at their table. You can’t really bring yourself to believe it, but his sincerity has shaken your ground a little.

His expression shifts when he rounds a corner, brows rising as his lips part in a broad smile, voices rising in greeting and you can see why Feyre treasures his company. He’s surprisingly gentle, oddly perceptive.

They probably all already knew that, though. It’s your fault for casting roles on them before really even getting to know them, assigning characters after only a handful of proper conversations. If only you’d made the effort to step out of your own little circle, maybe the circumference wouldn’t be as strangling as it’s become.

If you’d stepped out sooner, could you have been first choice?

But, glancing again at Cassian, his profile captured in a look between irritation and affection, turning the corner into the dining room and seeing the scrunch of Feyre’s brow as she replies to whatever he’d said…no. It wouldn’t have mattered.

But it’s not the end of the world that you weren’t made that way.

————

It’s good to see her smiling again, he thinks.

With the past months having been so draining, the symptoms of her restlessness only exacerbated in the last few days given the turmoil they’ve all been thrown into, it’s good to see the light in her eyes gleaming again. More than just good, but there isn’t quite a word right enough to express the soul-deep relief he feels at seeing her smile. A strange conviction that everything will be okay now that she’s on the way better.

Her ears twitch once before she’s shooting him a half-glare, having felt his gaze roaming over her. “Family dinner, Rhys,” she snaps under her breath, but he can see the heat in her eyes, the silent agreement that’s exchanged in the brief moments their gaze locks, and Rhys’ mouth curves suggestively, his brows rising in feigned ignorance. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmurs, looking down at his mate with an intensity he knows she adores. And yet she lightly smacks his thigh anyway.

“I’m serious,” Feyre warns, that heat dissipating as Cassian picks a seat at the table, dragging the feet across the floorboards with a grating noise that’s thankfully drowned out by chatter while a smaller figure quietly follows after him, taking one of the two remaining open seats. Unlike Cassian, she lifts her chosen seat from the floor, trying to keep as silent as possible and blend into the background as she sits beside Elain. “Don’t scare her off,” Feyre murmurs under her breath. Rhys hums compliantly, eyes twinkling as he spends a few extra moments looking at his mate. Moments he thinks he might at long last be beginning to lean into.

“Where’s Mor?” Cassian interrupts, and Rhys reluctantly shifts his attention to his brother, who has taken the seat opposite Feyre. He sometimes wonders if Cassian choses moves like this intentionally, whether they’re conscious decisions or whether these actions result from a wish to have his family united. Cassian isn’t like himself or Az, wasn’t taught to conceal his emotions as they were—well, in his own case it was taught. For Az it was a matter of survival.

“Taking supper up to Az,” Nesta’s voice cuts through the previously enjoyable atmosphere, the noise similar to recognising the hiss of steel being drawn within a temple. A few centuries ago, his ears might have twitched at the distinctly unpleasant intrusion, but Cassian’s eyes have already left his own to seek out the icy silver of his mate’s, softened at their edges.

“More than just supper,” Amren comments, one space over to Rhys’ right, sat at a corner seat. “She took an entire bottle of wine with her.” Laughter rises, and Rhys allows his attention to briefly sweep over across the table where the two sisters are involved in conversation, as if there’s no one else to speak with. He supposes one of them might very well believe that, and with a fraction of a thought swiftly removes the precautionary enchantment of the silverware so they won’t vanish if she reaches for them.

At least she’s there, though he’s fairly confident Cassian has something to do with it. Rhys can picture how the light in Feyre’s eyes might flicker learning she had found a way to shut herself away in a house where avoiding others was almost impossible without intent. No amount of luck or coincidence would keep her entirely hidden. Especially over meals.

Violet eyes return to his left, feeling the familiar ease that settles through him at the reminder of Feyre’s presence. A deeply-treasured reprieve from the strain and stress that’s been thriving amongst them as of late.

————

“How was the check-up with Madja, by the way?” Elain asks, using one of the large wooden spoons to shift a few roast potatoes onto her plate.

You nod slightly, lips pressing together in a small smile that you hope is reassuring. “Good, for the most part,” you reply. “I think she still wants to observe what happens for now, but she did…do something, which might have helped?” It reminds you of the lightness in your lungs, the strange openness of your throat and you instinctively take in a deeper breath, basking in that odd clearness. Elain hums in question, silently offering you the spoon for potatoes, but you shake your head politely. “I’m not sure…I don’t think dinner is the best place to discuss those check-ups,” you say quietly, a half-smile on your mouth. Elain’s lips curve, eyes gleaming as she nods in agreement, “you’re probably right.” Then she glances across the table before returning her gaze to yours, a new, preempted question already rising to her mouth. “What are you going to eat?”

The smile on your lips becomes strained, gloved hands shifting in your lap as you keep the orange, silk scarf pulled over your arms to conceal the wretched skin. You wish you’d at least had the chance to change before coming here—your mind will mostly be preoccupied with making sure none of them are forced to see the state beneath the silk. “If I’m honest, I’m not really that hungry…” you hedge, but Elain gives you a look that tells you she won’t stand for it. Although it comes from a place of care and love, you can’t help feeling a little suffocated.

“Just have a couple of bites, okay?” Elain reasons gently, “Madja’s told us it’s good for you to eat, it’ll help you recover.”

“Apparently Madja’s been saying that a lot,” you mutter under your breath.

“Madja’s a highly respected healer,” Amren cuts in from across the table, her eyes sharp as they pierce into you. “If she’s said you should eat, you should eat.”

You aren’t sure if you imagine the way the noise level seems to drop at that, but the familiarly dull pain of humiliation flickers across your chest, ashamed to have sounded so ungrateful. Your head lowers a little, unable to think of a reply as your hands wring together beneath the table, tucked away in your lap.

“Unless you really feel sick,” Elain interjects a little defensively, her hand subconsciously placing itself on your upper arm in what you’re certain she intends to be a comforting gesture—in truth it causes your flesh to ache, but you keep your mouth shut. “I’m sure I can manage a bite or two,” you get out with a small smile and you hate that you know it won’t reach your eyes, so keep your head slightly ducked as you put a few potatoes on your plate. You can come down later, once everyone’s gone to bed if you’re still hungry.

A beat passes, and Elain shifts at your side, a fresh smile on her face, trying to brighten your mood—you dip a little lower at that, that she feels responsible, but if you don’t pull yourself together she’ll keep doing it. “How did you and Cassian bump into one another?” She asks, reaching for something else on the table that you don’t look at. Cassian doesn’t make to answer, so you have to, feeling the distinct weight of the table’s attention. “Just coincidence, I suppose,” you reply, managing a faint smile, keeping your eyes on your plate as you slice one of the roast potatoes in two, steam wafting up from the hot centre.

“Went out for a walk?” Elain asks. There’s an almost unnoticeable tone of relief in the question—you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t as close to her as you are. Is that how easily she can pick out your own thoughts? “Fresh air’s probably good for you, right?” She says smiling, causing your own lips to curve at their edges fondly. “I think so,” you murmur in reply.

“Have you had a chance to read any more books recently? I haven’t seen any in your room…I could get some if you want?” Feyre speaks from across the table, and you bite down on the way you want to shrink into yourself as the conversation is drawn over to you. “I haven’t, and it’s fine, thank you. Have you been painting recently?” You ask, swiftly shutting it down and shifting the conversation back to her, hoping you’ll be left out of it now.

Rhys’s attention flits over her a split second before something passes behind Feyre’s eyes, but she swallows and nods. “There hasn’t been as much time as I’d like, but I’m finding moments,” she answers, but goes no further. You’re glad she’s still getting time to herself in spite of being High Lady and more importantly, a mother. You can’t imagine how difficult it must be if it’s taking up that much of her time…and you probably hadn’t helped…she’s been visiting each day… You should have succeeded.

The passiveness of the thought catches you a little off guard. Since when had thoughts like that become so habitual? So flippant? You spear a piece of potato with your fork, bringing it to your mouth. It was just a fleeting thought, it’s fine. Weird things happen in the mind anyway, as long as you don’t mean it, you’re okay.

“Would you…” Feyre’s asking, “be interested in joining me? We could have an easel set up in your room?”

A part of the potato goes down the wrong way as you hear the question, hand grabbing the napkin as you cover your mouth, coughing. You clear your throat when you’re done, making sure to wipe your lips subtly as you pull the napkin away, sipping on the glass of water to help clear your throat. Once you’ve recovered, you remember her question.

It would be nice. Really nice, actually, but… “it’s fine, please don’t worry. Painting’s your thing, and I think…personal, to you. Besides, I have my books,” you excuse, heart sinking a little, but it’s for the better. She’s already short on time anyway, she needs to keep that for herself, even if you can’t help but want it.

The same look passes behind her eyes, and you now wonder if you can’t figure it out because…because you might no longer know her well enough.

“It’s probably for the better,” Rhys announces, bringing the moment to a swift end, “Feyre’s nude models would probably upset your delicate sensibilities, anyway.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly choke on air as wild, ferocious heat swarms your features, staring ahead, bewildered.

Rhys grins as a fuming Feyre smacks him on the shoulder, indignant rage lighting her eyes. “Lies! All lies,” she snaps, before sparing you a somewhat apologetic glance. “He’s joking, obviously,” she reassures, shooting a glare Rhys’ way at that last part. “His humour’s apparently a few centuries out of date.”

“Speaking of things on the old side,” a golden voice calls from the hallway, parading into the dining room in heels tall and thin enough to potentially run someone through. “Rhys, is there another case of this stuff? Az wants some more.”

The High Lord rolls his eyes, amusement clear, Feyre settling at his side, feigned anger dissipating as if it were never there, her eyes twinkling again.

“We all know you finished off the bottle before you even reached Az’s room,” Amren snipes, thickly-jewelled fingers sparkling as she nurses her own glass, laughter rising from the table.

“Oh, like you’re any better Amren. You could polish off bottles of blood in the time it took me to eat an appetiser,” Mor replies, heels clicking across the floor as she sweeps through the room in a flurry of vibrant red and stunning gold, taking her seat opposite Elain—between Amren and Rhys.

One seat and across from your own position.

The meal fully commencing now all able players are assembled at the table.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

cbmthy taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @fae-glamour-petrichorus @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #multi part fic #cbmthy #cbmthy chapter 17 #azriel acotar

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 10 months ago

Text

Our Little Love part seven - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

What’s that saying? One step forward two steps back? 👀 6K words containing: manipulation, toxic yandere men, non-consented acts of affection, lies, possessive behaviour, jealousy, allusion to crime and kidnapping.

“Little love,” Jin calls for you absentmindedly, frowning when you don’t look up from your book to answer him. It’s one you had read a million times before, maybe you didn’t hear him.

“Little love?” He tries again, looking confused as you let out a disgruntled sigh of annoyance.

He can see your jaw clench, something had pissed you off. Your foot became restless as you sat in the arm chair, it was only when Jimin cleared his throat obviously he remembered the terms and conditions you had enforced.

This time he lets out a big sigh, one of tested patience. He mumbles an apology before turning away, a bitter feeling creeping up his chest. Fuck, he resented the fact he couldn’t call you that anymore, it was like asking him not to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck, they needed to earn your forgiveness soon or this might actually kill them. Not that they ever underestimated you, but you really did know which weapons to pull to hurt them the most, and fuck did he have to admit they deserved it. Didn’t mean he had to like any of it.

Jimin follows him out, a quick glance back at you to see if you were paying any concern but of course not. Since the day you announced the break you’d been keeping your distance, Jimin had complained about it childishly with tantrum tears in his eyes but you had patiently explained you needed the space to clear your head.

Jimin scoffs at the memory, feeling sour about it still. The pout he wears gives away his thoughts when they both find Yoongi in the kitchen.

“Little love giving you a hard time?” he says almost amused.

It’s Jin’s turn to scoff dramatically, ears burning so red, Yoongi swears there’s steam.

“We can’t call her that anymore,” he complains, sulking.

Yoongi smiles a little, not because he truly found his hyung’s pain entertaining, but because he understood the pain.

“It’s a difficult situation,” Yoongi agrees, “but the alternative would have been so much worse.”

Jimin and Jin stare silently at him, their gazes aggressive as if they wanted to hit the male but they didn’t because he was right. The worst alternative wasn’t expecting you to leave, they all knew they would never let that happen, but if you had become a ghost of yourself, if they had broken you so badly there was nothing left to rebuild, then what would be left of you?

“When did you become so considerate?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like any of it, he didn’t care if you were right and they were wrong, you had taken away their most prized and valuable possession, you. He couldn’t help the internal tantrums as if someone had taken away his favourite toy. Call him childish, call him whatever the hell you wanted, he hated this situation, and he couldn’t hide it.

They apologised, and apologised, and apologised, and you still gave them the cruellest punishment you could think of.

“You’re still thinking with anger,” Yoongi acknowledges, knowing when Jimin cooled down from this he would probably be the one with the most regret and remorse, what he didn’t know is Jimin was clinging to his resentment with all his might, because once that gave way he would have so much to answer for.

—

Men would pay money to see Jung Hoseok hesitate, but that was exactly what he was doing now. Another book in your hand (you were reading a bit too much lately, he didn’t like it, it was as if you knew you couldn’t leave physically so you were doing so mentally), and he was stalling himself with interrupting you.

Your rejection cut holes into him, and that’s what he was afraid of when approaching you today. When he was younger he used to be afraid of everything, but after indulging in the horrors of survival and the syndicate, nothing terrified him any more, or so he thought before his heart belonged to you.

“Litt-” he catches himself before he says it too loud, clearing his throat quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. “Y/n?”

He sounds more confident, his more serious persona going up as if that would protect him here. He knew he needed it, any sane person after experiencing his pleasure and pain games would run at the sight of him, and a part of him was getting ready to catch you if you did.

You look at him and it has him crumbling. Something in his chest physically hurts him so bad he thinks he needs to go see a specialist, one glance from you and he’s ready to beg on his knees again for your forgiveness. The distance between you, although you were here in front of him, killed him. It felt eerily similar to what it did when you left, and it confused his brain and body so much.

He had to remind himself every day, you were still here, you still loved them, this was just temporary.

“I-I wasjus- I was just heading to the b-basment,” forget money, men would lay down their lives to see Jung Hoseok stutter and stumble over his words.

You frown in question when he doesn’t continue, but stares at you expectantly, until he realises he hadn’t explained what he wanted.

“For a workout!” He rectifies himself quickly before taking a breath to calm himself, “I wondered if you wanted to join me?”

He mentally pats himself on the back quickly for sounding more put together, but then his nerves start to shake again when you don’t respond immediately. You contemplate it, for too long in his eyes, stretching out the pause until you have the man sweating. Who needs a work out, just piss your girlfriend off and try to spend time with her while she's still mad.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, finally putting down your book (he should get Jimin to burn them all). “I’ll go get changed.”

The relief and joy that floods Hobi almost makes him pass out, a genuine smile he hasn’t felt on his own face for days bursts through. This was a step in the right direction, you didn’t hate him or you would’ve shut him down. With the amount of hope in his system, he was getting giddy.

—

You wanted some time alone this evening, without them lingering around you, with poor attempts of covering their intentions with busying themselves. As if you couldn’t see Jimin’s imploring stare as he walked past you from the corner of your eyes. Or the way Jin would walk towards you, hesitate and then walk away.

You didn’t say they couldn’t talk to you, you were just on a break. Part of you knows you should seek them out and start civil conversation but that part also knew once you opened the door they would come barging through. An inch would turn into a mile and you would be back where you started.

So now you were busying yourself with the world’s worst chore, just to escape and breathe for a second, laundry. You were sorting through the load at a snail’s pace, knowing when you were done you’d have to endure them again. You’re so embedded in your own thoughts you don’t feel another presence join you.

Arms wrap around you, making you still. His figure almost engulfs you from behind, his nose already finding purchase on your neck as he buries himself against you. You try not to sigh, you were sick of hearing the sound yourself but it was always one of patience.

You understood how hard it was for them to accept your decision for a ‘break’, but all you wanted was some respect for it. And this broke your no touching rule.

“Tae let go,” you say without an ounce of emotion, continuing sorting out the laundry in front of you.

His only reaction to your words is the opposite of course, holding you tighter against him making your heart skip too many beats to count. Your skin sizzled with something akin to longing, a fire he only seemed to ignite when his breath hit your neck.

You don’t give in. You throw the item of clothing in your hand down, both hands on the edge of the basket as you still, standing statue as he tries his hardest to work through your defences. You don’t respond when he nuzzles his nose against where he’s buried, or to the rumble of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. His eyes are closed, you know they are, he’s relishing the moment all he can before you take it away.

He doesn’t feel you respond the way he wants you to, he wants you to melt against him and the urge is so strong but somehow you resist. He whines, the sound so soft near your ears you almost miss it. He tries holding you tighter still, his thumb stroking soft circles on your skin, trying to tempt you to break your resolve. Gentle, almost whisper like kisses are placed on your shoulder as he finally breaks away.

“Are you done?” You say almost coldly as he steps back, picking back up another item of clothing.

You hear him sniff but you don’t let it move you.

“Heaven, please,” he begs, a fist in your top clutching onto you.

That’s when you turn to face him. If he expects to see any softness in your gaze he’s sorely mistaken, it’s not a glare you’re giving him but it’s close enough that it burns. You don’t even flinch when you see tears in his eyes.

“I asked you not to touch me,” you state quietly but your words are firm. “Or that if you did, you asked first.”

He looks down, partly in shame, partly in grief. You can’t stand to see the sight, it makes your heart ache, so you walk away.

—

“Y/n?” Jungkook asks for your attention, biting his lips in worry. “Can I ask you about the book you’re reading?”

The others in the room feel an overwhelming sense of envy when you smile at the maknae. Jimin’s jaw goes slack as you scoot over to let Jungkook sit beside you. Envy was a dangerous thing, how he wanted to pluck the youngest of them out of the seat and take his place, but he hadn’t calmed his emotions down enough yet to approach you properly, and he knew if he did he’d ruin whatever rebuilding the others had done. No, he had to be patient with himself and withdraw, even if that meant physically. He was playing cards with Yoongi and Seokjin, but he places his cards down and leaves.

Jin’s pout overtakes his face when he turns away from the sight of Jungkook grinning while you talk animatedly, putting down a card without thinking and letting Yoongi take the win this round. Yoongi didn’t even notice, his gaze goes soft at the way you laugh at a teasing comment Jungkook made, a sound he hasn’t heard in what felt like forever. The sound even makes the corners of Jin’s pout pull up.

The youngest of the group honestly thought he was in paradise, he didn’t even care about the book he just wanted to hear you talk without reservation. His focus was on the way your eyes lit up, the genuine smile on your face, how does he try to make this moment last forever? He pays attention to every word you utter, asking the right question to keep you going, even making a joke here and there and feeling so pleased with himself when you laugh.

How did the relationship regress back so far that he felt like this was the start of it, like he was still pursuing you to give him a chance, like he had to work up the courage to ask you out all over again. The answer of course was in their mistakes, the thought dampens his mood but he pushes it away. He didn’t know when he would get another moment like this, he had to soak it all in and cherish it before it was over.

—

Your defences go up when you spot Jimin bringing Taehyung to you, the shorter male holding his hand guiding your bear like boyfriend in front of you. You look at them both expectantly, wondering what the theatrics were for. Taehyung sniffles, his face hanging low, his red hoodie pulled down as far as he can get it to hide himself.

“Taehyung has something he wants to say Heaven- I mean angel- I mean Y/n,” he corrects himself repeatedly with a shake of his head, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at the blunder, but he wouldn’t apologise for it even it that made him a hypocrite for what he was making Taehyung do.

He pushes his friend gently, encouraging him to speak.

“Tae?” you say gently, remembering how harshly you spoke to him the other day.

Apparently that was all it took for the man to break down into tears in front of you, falling to his knees as he bawled. Your jaw drops in shock at the action, but you’re more surprised at the fact he holds himself back from launching into you for comfort.

You can see how hard it is to do so, he’s hugging himself, but his nails dig into the fabric of his clothes. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. You give him a second to compose himself, the sobs turning into little hiccups as he wipes his face with his sleeve.

When he looks at you it's your turn to grip the armrests of the chair with all your might, those glassy eyes beg you for love and it takes everything not to smother him in your embrace. But that would undo all the work you’ve been doing, you had to talk it out first and then maybe if this was resolved you could reward him with physical affection, just a little.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says through a hoarse voice, the sound only breaking your resolve further. “About the other day, I s-should’ve asked first.”

He tries to take a deep breath in but it’s shaky, for some reason what he wants to say next breaks him out into more tears. He covers his face as he cries, Jimin rubbing his back providing him with the comfort you couldn’t give just yet.

“Doyouhateme?”

The muffled question breaks your heart, Jimin can see it on your face and it has him fighting down a smirk. He may have played a hand at manipulating the situation, convincing Taehyung this was the best way to get back into your good books.

“Tae no,” you breathe, eyes watering but you blink back the tears. You didn’t want to show them any weakness anymore. “I don’t hate you.”

You sigh, eyes to the ceiling, as if begging for control over yourself as you try really hard to not give in to the feeling of wanting to crawl into his lap and hold him.

“I just really needed some space that day,” you explain, “and you caught me at a bad time.”

That wipes away Jimin’s elation, all this talk about space and distance, it already felt like you were living on Mars. How much space did you want? In his opinion there had been too much space, that was the problem, or were you forgetting the long agonising months of your absence?

Taehyung nods, thankfully retaining your attention away from Jimin who couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face.

—

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning from your side to your back and then to your side again. Were you fighting a losing battle? Were you being unfair in asking them to change? You remember cases of forgotten wives refusing to leave their no good husbands, the amount of inane times you heard the cries of ‘I can get him to change’... had you become one of those women? Then of course came the others, the women who knew they could not work miracles on their partners and gave up. Some left, some stayed, and you remember watching them all in the years of your career, arrogantly thinking it would never be you, no man would ever trap you like this. There was a joke in there somewhere, one man certainly didn’t, but seven did.

The knock on the door thankfully interrupts your endless circle of pity, a meek Jungkook peeking around as he opens the door. Something about the scene felt familiar but the shoe was on the other foot. He was waiting for permission to come in, you don’t know why the sight made you smile, made you warm.

If anyone was proof that they were trying for you it was Jungkook, Yoongi had kept his distance out of respect for your rules, you know he only did so because he couldn’t help himself if he got too close. Jimin was similar although, you could see he was keeping his distance mentally, angry with you and your conditions. It would pass, you were sure, or at least you hoped.

Jungkook was the only one that accepted everything without complaint, and you knew it wasn’t easy. You were so grateful to him for it, for respecting your boundaries sincerely, for giving you hope that this relationship could be salvaged.

He almost trips over himself when you pull the covers back wordlessly, inviting him in, the stumble of his legs as he races towards you makes you giggle. He climbs in without hesitation, about to reach out for you but he stops himself, eyes looking up at you, wanting to ask you out loud but too afraid to.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, as if talking loudly would break the peace you felt with him there, that you’d second guess yourself.

Arms you’ve longed for wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. You hold him back gently, not letting yourself get lost in him the way you wanted. In the darkness, your gazes meet, talking loudly in a way filled the silence.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out hard, unable to hold it in any longer.

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit.

He bites his lips to refrain from saying anything else, to break the illusion that everything was okay.

“I used to think I understood your darkness,” you murmur, stroking his hair out of his face.

He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest, the youngest didn’t like how that sentence was going and part of him didn’t want to hear the rest.

“But I don’t think I ever did,” you confess in a whisper, starting to ramble. “I don’t get it Kookie, why me? This obsession, I thought I felt it the same as you, I thought you guys understood me too.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep up with your thoughts when you felt the hands of sleep trying to catch you.

“Maybe I was just trying to excuse my own darkness,” you sigh, almost in defeat. “Or maybe I just fed yours too much.”

“You gave us your love,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. “Your acceptance, you didn’t feed our darkness baby, you just didn’t see the extent of it.”

—

The silence is suffocating. Yoongi normally appreciates it but in this situation it was unsettling. They’re all in the living room, some pretending to do their own thing, but no one was paying any attention to anything other than you. Yoongi and Namjoon did so blatantly, Yoongi sitting on the couch away from you but his stare is nowhere else. This didn’t break the rules, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t soak you in with his eyes whenever he wanted.

The others were also very obvious with their glances towards you, Jin was dusting the same spot of the living room over and over. Hoseok flipping through the tv channels with Jungkook sitting beside him, the maknae biting his lips in worry with every peek he took, a habit he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. Taehyung and Jimin uncharacteristically played chess but all the pieces were in the wrong places, arbitrarily moving them just to keep appearances so you didn’t call them out.

And Namjoon… the man was staring daggers into your form. Elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, his chin on his thumb, his finger on his face tapping away on his cheekbone impatiently. He was supposed to be going over the papers in his lap, but they were being scrunched in his other hand. Yoongi thought he looked like a bomb about to explode, and he wasn’t wrong.

“That’s it!” Namjoon almost growls as he slams his file down, standing from his seat while everyone stares in shock at his outburst.

He walks towards you, and you meet his glare but refuse to move from the comfort and safety of the tub chair, you don’t even close your book.

“This ‘break’ is over,” he snarls, gestating with his hands trying to find a conduit for his anger. “Do you understand, little love?”

You look up at him with eyes simmering a fire he only ignited, meeting his glare head on.

“I decide when this break is over,” you say calmly, refusing to fight him at his level.

“No.”

“No?” Your brows scrunch in disbelief and anger, there goes your plan to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

You throw your book back into the seat as you rise to meet him eye to eye, although he’s still looking down at you.

“I mean…” he breathes gruffly, grazing his hand with yours at your side. “No.”

“You can’t b-“

Your voice is smothered by his lips, his soft touch turning into an iron grip as he pulls you closer, devouring you like a man starved and in his eyes that’s exactly what he was. You push him away, but he doesn’t allow for any space between you.

Even when you’re banging your fist against his chest, unable to breathe, he doesn’t budge. You’re at his mercy, only when he decides he’s had enough (for now), does he pull away.

You look dishevelled almost, breathing hard, your eyes glistening with tears. The sight shouldn’t arouse him but it does.

You have the audacity to childishly wipe his kiss away with the back of your hand, a tough swipe that does nothing to erase the force he handled you with. He chuckles, the sound makes your ears burn, feeling the warmth of shame colour them in.

The others stare with the jaws wide open, fear settling in that this was taking too many steps in the wrong direction. It takes everything not to call you back when you storm away, it takes everything not to follow.

No one says a word, but they all glare accusingly at their leader except Taehyung, who only looks down in shame.

—

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yoongi asks gruffly, sleep still in his voice.

“Out.” You respond bluntly, avoiding his gaze.

“I asked where,” he pushes when you pull Taehyung’s hoodie over your head. You were drowning in the fabric, and he pretended the sight didn’t make him ache for you. The same way you were trying so hard not to let his sleepy state bring down your defences, no matter how cute he looked in the shorts and grey top.

“What does it look like Yoongi,” your head was spinning with too many thoughts and you needed to clear it. “For a run.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says it like an offer but it’s not, you know it’s not.

“No,” you refuse simply, finally meeting his stare. “Send one of your men to keep an eye on me, it's what you did before anyway.”

He’s quiet, observing you for a moment. You hated it when he did that, it was like he could see inside of you and yet, despite that, you felt like he couldn’t understand anything he saw. You break eye contact first, putting on your trainers while he continues to stare. Why couldn’t you read him the same, how could he still get under your skin with his silence even after all this time?

“I’ll send Jungkook,” he says as you open the door. “He’ll keep his distance.”

He doesn’t take the slam as you leave personally, he knows you just need to vent your frustrations, but because you were so isolated- sorry, because they isolated you, you had no one to vent to, no one who was objective to talk to. Physically stretching your mind would maybe do you some good.

“Did you seriously let her go out unsupervised?” Namjoon seethes as he approaches Yoongi, quick to dial one of their men regardless of what nefarious time of the morning it was. The first call goes to voicemail.

Yoongi sighs, he was on his way back to bed, guess not.

“She deserves our trust,” he replies. “And I was about to send Jungkook.”

“It’s not about trust,” Namjoon bites back, another call unanswered, “it’s about safety, or are you forgetting our enemies hunt our weaknesses.”

“Our enemies know if they touch her they’ve signed their own death certificate, no one would dare cross us now, not with the amount of blood we’ve shed,” Yoongi groans in aggravation. “Not to mention you’ve bought out the police Namjoon.”

“But not every policeman, or Captain, or are you forgetting what we did to him?”

“You gave him a warning, he’ll behave,” Yoongi states, ready to leave the conversation but he can’t help himself with what he says next. After Namjoon’s actions last night, he was feeling a little vengeful, even if he didn’t completely mean his words. “We should’ve left him unharmed, we knew she didn’t want us to hurt him.”

The shock in Namjoon’s eyes flashes for a second before they compose themselves to a stare. He puts his phone back in his pocket, maybe Jungkook was the best one to go, you didn’t seem to punish him as harshly as the others.

The silence between the men turns the air cold, their gazes stoic but speaking volumes. Namjoon wouldn’t stand for mutiny or disloyalty, he especially didn’t stand for anyone questioning his decisions.

“He hurt her,” he explains himself patiently, “he wants to take her away from us.”

Yoongi scoffs, a humourless grin on his face as he stares back in ridicule at their leader.

“We hurt her,” he states, eyes blank of emotion, “where’s our bullet to the knees.”

—

If you were being honest with yourself, you hated running, you hated the way each breath burned as it filled your lungs, how each limb could feel like lead, but the pain was better than the thoughts you were trying to clear.

You remember at the police academy, Suho and Kai used to run circles around you, but somewhere along the way your competitiveness got the better of you, and you trained harder than them both. It used to annoy you to hell that they were physically much stronger than you, but those days were some of the best. The three of you were so close, each other’s confidants when things went sour, the two you’d hang out with when a case went wrong. Now who did you have to confide in?

Maybe it’s your conscious or unconscious thoughts making your legs move in a particular direction, but you don’t realise where you’re headed until you see the sign above the door. The breakfast place… where everything went to shit a third time.

You barely glance inside as you run past but the sight of someone familiar makes you double take. Think of the devil and he appears?

His eyes catch yours when you stop in your tracks, he’s sitting at a table alone and the sight of him brings back that day like a breath after being underwater for so long. An apology is at the tip of your tongue, your eyes start to water, you know you have to keep running, if any of them finds you here with him, he’d be dead. You’re about to turn away when he waves at you, a simple smile that didn’t meet his eyes sent your way as he watches the realisation hit you.

His hand was covered in thick bandages, and your stare doesn’t leave them. There’s no thought in your mind as your legs move you into the building, ignoring the waiter's greeting as you walk towards your old Captain with dread.

He shifts in his seat, letting you see the bandages on his leg, around his knee, the crutches resting on the seat next to him. Your eyes are wide with shock before your gaze turns into one of mournful rage. Tears start forming in your eyes as you shake.

The sense of betrayal that overwhelms you has you reaching a hand for the table, gripping the edge tight to steady yourself.

They lied.

They looked you in the eyes and lied. All of them, including Jungkook. You don’t let yourself sob, not when a fire burns any attachment you felt towards them to dust.

You move your gaze from his injuries to his face, his stare never having left you.

“Arrest them,” your voice is hoarse but without a morsel of regret, anger paving the way forward now, filling the loss you felt deep inside of you.

They must’ve thought you were fucking stupid, they must’ve laughed behind your back, humoring you with their acts of trying to change. Fuck, you were a fool, they played you again and again and you just took it every fucking time. There was never going to be any change, and you refused to be their prisoner any longer.

“I’ll be your witness,” you say it with conviction, although a part of you grieves. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need, just send them away.”

Suho doesn’t say a word, and that makes it all so much worse. You can feel something creeping around you, shadows of them that have latched onto you, crawling all over your skin. You wanted rid of this dark energy, you wanted out.

You don’t break his stare, not for a second, you can tell he’s deep in thought, contemplating your resolve, and if he saw a hint of uncertainty in you he would do no such thing. Why would he risk it? They hurt him, they could hurt him again.

He reaches for his phone, and you take a premature breath of relief.

“Make the call,” he commands, handing the device to you.

—

When Yoongi dragged Jungkook out of bed this morning, the maknae had begrudgingly crawled out of the house. His body ran on autopilot when he left to find you, eyes half open, yawning in the morning air. His hoodie pushes his hair to fall in his face but he’s too tired to drag the fabric back.

It wouldn’t take long to find you, he could run circles around you if he wanted but the thought of maybe spending some time with you alone made his legs pick up the pace, a goofy grin on his face as he thought about it.

Yes you were probably mad about Namjoon’s actions yesterday, not that Jungkook blamed him all that much, it was hard to stay away from you, but he was starting to understand your perspective a little more. Especially after the last time you pulled away, and he couldn’t let that happen again, he wouldn’t survive it another time. He wouldn’t blame you if you gave him the cold shoulder, he just hopes you don’t punish him because of Namjoon, deflecting your anger wherever it did damage.

He’d calm you down, he’s sure of it. He’d tell you that what their big bad boss did was wrong and he was on your side, he’d tell you that he loved you and respected you, and it didn’t matter how long you took to forgive them he was sure the relationship would heal.

He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realise how far he’s travelled, it’s only when there’s still no sight of you his grin begins to fade. He should’ve caught up to you by now, this was the route you normally take, and you knew better than to go another way.

What if… no. You wouldn’t dare leave again, you wouldn’t. Jungkook breaks into a sprint, running every route he can think of, not stopping for a moment even when his lungs and legs burn. He’s looking round like a mad man, but he can’t find you. What if something happened? What if someone got to you or hurt you? Memories flash in his mind to long, long ago when that was almost the case. What if?

Shit. A hand to his pocket tells him he’s left his phone, he couldn’t contact the others to join him. His best decision was to get back to the house asap. Jin would still have the tracker on your phone, they would find you, it was all going to be fine.

The fear that seized his heart was not fooled by such idealistic thoughts, his eyes had seen the true brutality of the world, sometimes caused by his own hands, and now his mind played a myriad of images of his little love in all the situations of pain he caused others. He always wondered if karma would catch him one day, he never thought it would take you.

—

He slams the door open so hard it struggles to stay on the hinges.

“I CAN’T FIND HER!” He yells into the open space of the home with all the air in his lungs.

It doesn’t take long for the hoard to assemble.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jin yells back, reaching for his phone to track you without prompt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Namjoon glares at Yoongi, the shorter man ignoring him.

“She’s probably taken another route,” he says calmly.

“You better hope that’s all,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth.

“What if someone’s got her?” Jimin panics.

“No,” Hoseok shuts that idea down, “everyone knows there is nowhere in Seoul to hide from us.”

“There’s always one idiot that’s willing to try, or have you forgotten the last time someone tried to take her?” Taehyung says heatedly.

“And we know how that ended,” Hoseok growls back.

The bickering among themselves grows in volume, so loud that they almost miss what Jin says.

“What?” It’s Yoongi that dares to ask him to repeat himself, the drumming in his ears drowning the words. He must’ve misheard…

“She’s at the police station,” there’s no mistaking it this time. Jin looks solemnly at Namjoon while all their heads spiral.

“She’s not gone there of her own will,” Yoongi shakes his head in denial, “they’ve arrested her or something.”

Namjoon says eerily quiet, his breathing hard, his jaw clenched.

“Namjoon we own the police,” Hoseok pushes, “make a fucking call see why she’s there.”

“Fuck making a call! I’m going over there,” Jungkook announces, turning back to the front door, but the sight of a police van pulling up at their mansion makes him stop in his tracks.

“Are they dropping her home,” Jimin asks stupidly, unable to comprehend why else they would be there.

The older four men look at eachother knowingly.

“Should we run?” Jin asks, making Taehyung and Jimin whip their heads to stare at him incredulously.

“Why would we run?” Namjoon breaks his silence, “they’ll take us right to her.”

As if on queue a smoke grenade rolls into the room, blasting off within seconds, covering the air. Namjoon almost laughs, they sent the fucking swat team, how ridiculous when they could’ve settled this like gentlemen.

Bodies swarm in, yelling commands and they all fall to their knees as instructed. On any other day, if you were home, these men wouldn’t make it through the door, but Namjoon was right, they were a one way ticket to finding you.

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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 2 months ago

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I just got the 'Alfred is not a good man' vid from tik-tok so I'm a little worried about the fic I've been making but I'm doing some of my deep dive to really know if this is just one person's depiction or opinion about him.

I just got really into Batfamily for like what 2-3 months ago (not including the ones I made long ago those were like one off from just basic understanding of other fics I read).

From what I have gathered which was only two information (for now) was about Alfred's daughter and if Alfred did let the kids become Robins.

In summary his daughter Julia Pennyworth or in another comic Julia Remarque, was the abandoned daughter, She hated/resented Alfred for abandoning her and disgusted that he became a servant of Wayne's which is true BUT in the end though is that both Father and daughter made up after.

and Second is, actually somewhat true I've seen few reddits and blog that have written that in some other comics Alfred did let the batkids become Robin and That's more than enough to know that it was not right BUT according to other versions most of it was just Alfred warning Bruce not to.

that's only thing I can find for now tho so please if anyone can help I'd like to gets some fact check to be sure.

For now I'm still comforted by the fact most of it doesn't apply much to what is really cannon cannon because some comics and issue are like so different or reset too much from the original it's hard to keep track of everything.

I'm not really a dc comic fan since collecting or even finding time to read them has been a hassle for me, I prefer to watch DC movies, cartoons or gameplays with DC lore and YT dc documentary videos from the ones who actually are a fan and read the issues.

This isn't really about justifying what Alfred had done but to know and learn if I could still properly write about him without triggering fans out there cuz I don't really want any trouble.

it's funny how I'm practically praising the man few weeks ago and now my loyalty is wavering.

I have a plan if this doesn't work out but let's just see, it's so weird because of the perfect timing too.

#yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #platonic batfam #x neglected reader #Platonic Alfred Pennyworth #alfred pennyworth

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callmerainman · 10 months ago

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Accidentally In Love | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2

plot. You and Adam became friends with benefits. The lines of your situationship are blurred. Even more so when you and the First Man get closer and closer. What will it take you to understand that you and Adam are falling in love?

word count. 3.8k

tags. enemies to lovers, sinner!Adam, friends with benefits, sexual content, p in v sex, Adam Has a Heart, falling in love, Reader has wings, Reader is Lucifer's Royal Guard.

TW! this chapter contains an explicit sexual scene, MINORS DNI

taglist. @kaces-mind @call-me-nyxx @serendipitous-fernweh @plutodestr0yedme @luvvnightingalee

a/n. here it is, final chapter! Thank you for reading this silly little fic, I'll for sure write more about Adam soon! Hope you enjoyed it <3

"and now I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like I love you"

—

It’s karaoke night for you and Adam. Yeah, karaoke night. At first it started off as a joke. One time, after an usual afternoon of strenuous intercourse, you and Adam found yourselves singing “Out on the Tiles” by Led Zeppelin. You had decided to put on some music in shuffle to try to muffle up your obscene sounds that both of you understood you couldn’t contain. Next thing you knew you and Adam were performing an improvised gig on the already ruined bed of your room.

“I’m so glad I’m living and gonna tell the world I am” you sang out of your lungs, holding an imaginary mic.

You pointed towards Adam, prompting him to finish the lyrics. Smiling, Adam clenched his hand in a fist to pretend to be on the mic too. He leaned backwards, throwing his head back.

“I got me a fine woman and she says that I’m her man” he sang back, enthusiastically.

This singing shenanigans would happen so often that you decided to set your own karaoke night on Fridays. You and Adam stole a karaoke machine from a bar and installed it in his room. And now he’s holding you by the shoulders, vigorously shaking you in a playful manner as you can’t stop laughing.

“Feels like you’re dying, you’re dying” he sings with all the air he could gather.

You bend in half, this time a real mic in your hand “Youuuuuuu, your sex is on fire”.

Adam mimics a guitar riff with an high pitched voice as you sing along to Kings of Leon.

“Consuuuuuumed, with what’s to transpire!” Adam goes, crouching onwards himself.

Something definitely changed between you and Adam. You still don’t know what it is but it’s pacifying you.

—

The other patrons at the Hotel noticed, even though a bit later. Your relationship was so obviously sexual that none of them really stopped to think if there was more. Until signs started to show.

One time, all of you were watching a movie downstairs. You had forced Adam to participate even if he didn’t want to and was suggesting to have another karaoke night instead. But in the end, you both plopped down on the couch next to each other with everyone and got comfortable in front of a romantic comedy Charlie put on. At first, you and Adam tried to keep your facade of annoyance. You and him were so dense, you didn’t think the others knew that you two were fucking, so you had to pretend to still hate each other. But, as the movie progressed, you and Adam lost your purpose of showing a fake resentment. You glanced down and noticed the tip of your fingers resting really close to Adam’s. His fingers, weirdly enough, were moving in a jerking motion, stroking the fabric of the couch back and forth, as if he was nervous. You moved your fingers closer. With unusual uncertainty from his part, Adam slid his fingers even closer to yours, making them touch. And you and Adam held hands. You decided not to mention it, staring at the TV with your face on fire and his cheeks colored in a red hue. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole movie, and when it ended you separated quickly, again naively thinking that nobody noticed. But, during the movie, Angel had definitely noticed. The spider demon let out one of the loudest gasps in his life as he covered his mouth with four hands. When you and Adam went upstairs later, everyone was still hanging out in the common room. And Angel raised his shoulders and arms.

“Are y’all blind or did you see what I saw?” he asked, almost irritated.

“What?” Cherri asked while mindlessly scrolling on her phone.

“Like, (Y/N) and Adam holding hands?!” he exclaimed, his arms dramatically falling flat on his sides.

“They’ve been fucking like two horny rabbits for months and this is where you draw the line?” Husk questions, raising a red eyebrow.

“Fucking is one thing, holding hands while watching a romantic movie is another!” Angel protest.

Cherri chuckles “It’s obvious by the amount of sex they have that there’s more”.

“Obvious?” Angel questions “Uhhh, hello?? Hate sex is a thing!”.

And that wasn’t the one and only time. Seems so obvious to everyone now, except to you two. It’s in the way you and Adam snuggle during movies, or when you’re cooking and he hugs you from behind, resting his chin in the space between your horns. It’s in the fact that you don’t call each other names anymore unless you’re having sex. Or when you fly around the city together pulling pranks on people, and sing your hearts out during karaoke. Now it’s not only in the way you two wildly wrestle under the sheets. It’s in the goofy way you try to sweep it under the carpet.

“Uh, we’re going upstairs uh to…FIGHT! Definitely not to have sex! Because we hate SEX!” Adam stopped “No wait, I love sex, I mean-“

“We’d HATE to have sex with each other!” you say, trying to back him up.

“Exactly, not with such a stupid cunt!”

“Hey, too much” you whisper, elbowing his side.

“Oh shit I’m so sorry babe”

And everybody looked at you the most unconvinced, inexpressive poker face. But Charlie, underneath, felt that it was heartwarming. Even if Adam whispered in your ear a “can’t wait to fuck your brains out” when displaying apparent affection, she knew that something was going on and it was nothing but beautiful. This is the purpose of the Hazbin Hotel, after all.

—

Honestly you have no idea what you and Adam are right now. First, you were just a Royal Guard who had to surveil the First Man on Earth, the Exterminator. Then you became his friend with benefits. Now sex is still here, but maybe you’re more friends than anything? Or more. Nothing was defined. You never set boundaries. You had your fair chances of getting intimate with other people, but it felt so wrong so you never went for sex. Adam felt the same. When Cherri brought everyone to the club to have a night out, he had his opportunities to have sex with other girls. But he just didn’t feel like it was right. Especially not if you were in the club with him.

“You can do what you like, you know?” you suggested him in his ear one of those times, in a space between the bar counter and the dance floor. But Adam just shook his head.

“Nah, don’t really feel like it. I mean, yeah that bitch with the black top was all over me but she’s not my type”

He tried to play it cool, not looking at you in the eyes. But in reality, Adam was just checking around to see if your friends were looking. And when he made sure that they were out of sight, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. It was unexpected coming from him, sure, but you let yourself melt in his kisses as music bumped in your ears. Something was happening.

—

“Here you are” you say.

Your hair is flowing, moved by the slow but firm flapping of your wings. You’re suspended meters and meters high, just in front of the Hazbin Hotel sign. Adam is sitting on the “Z”, holding his golden guitar in his hands. He looks kinda annoyed.

“I was just practicing guitar” he says.

“And I’m still a Royal Guard on duty”

“If your duty is going at it with the one guy you were supposed to surveil, then you’re already doing a great job”

You roll your eyes and scoff “Funny, very funny Adam”.

“Alright, you can hear me play something” he gives in.

“As long as it’s not Wonderwall”

“The fuck no, I fuckin’ hate the Oasis!”

So, with another flap of your wings, you gracefully land next to him. You expect Adam to go wild with one of his exaggerated, over-the-top and ego-boosting guitar solos. But instead, Adam quietly starts a finger picking, quite tune. It’s not a specific rock song, just a chill, peaceful chord progression. Adam starts humming a tune, eyes closed. You press your elbows against your knees and rest your cheek in the open palm of your hand, looking at the view. Pentagram City is a mess, for sure. But with Adam’s unusually calm vocalizing, and his presence, it feels like home. You peek a look at Adam. He’s still keeping his eyes closed, it’s the first time you see him so calm, and not his loud, immature self. He’s beautiful. You realize that your face is hot. And you can’t see it but your pupils are dangerously dilated. You press your lips together, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Oh you know what’s happening. Maybe you should make it stop. You try to take a deep breath. You’re so in love with Adam.

Adam is lost in his own thoughts and music. He was so comfortable in your presence as he strummed that he almost forgot you were there. He opens his eyes, he just wants to take a quick look at you before closing them again. He realizes that he’s done for the moment he sees how you’re looking at him. With shining eyes, dilated pupils, a fond smile on your face. He doesn’t really realize what it means for you, neither do you. But now his heart is beating at unprecedented speed. Shit, shit, shit. It’s not the first time it happens with you. One time, he felt this way when he woke up before you and saw you sleeping naked next to him, cuddled in his arms. The other was when you held hands for the first time during movie time with the other guests. But this time he’s feeling it on a whole other level. You’re so beautiful. And you’re standing by him listening to his tunes despite the man he is. The one who did so much harm but it’s trying to get better. Adam doesn’t know if he actually has gained any redeeming qualities, but one thing he’s sure about is that at least with you he is a better man. He thinks back on when you two used to argue non stop, resenting each other’s presence. It looks like a far, distant reality that never happened, if anything it’s at least a joke. Adam is so in love with you.

—

Sex still represents the majority of your relationship with Adam. Unlike your feelings, it never changed. Always so loud, fun, satisfying for sure, and unhinged. You and Adam could unleash your personalities at best under the sheets, and that was the best part of it. But this time, something is out of place. Not in a bad way, at all.

Adam is on top of you, placed between your spread legs. His wings are wide open, covering your naked bodies and encapsulating them in a small space reserved to only you two. His thrust are firm, but also slow and sensual, which wasn’t really his style. He’s holding your face with both hands, as he’s mesmerized by your deep moans of pleasure. You cling onto him with nails and legs, holding him as if he was about so slip away. You open your eyes, and catch him staring. He would usually say something sarcastic, like asking the fuck are you looking at. But instead, he looks lost in a profound state of blissful hypnosis, his pupils dilated and mouth slightly parted. Then, Adam plunges forward, still sliding in and out of you with slick sounds. Your breathing becomes even more irregular, hips jerking under his body as waves of pleasure hit you. You tug at Adam’s hair in the spot between his horns. With one hand, Adam firmly holds your hip, while the other has its fingers entangled in your hair, lightly pulling them.

“A-Adam…please I’m so close” you stutter. You would never beg usually, but this time it’s hard not to do so.

What surprises you is the way Adam responds. He would have usually bragged about you begging for him to make you reach your climax, reminding you how much of a whore you are for him. And you would have protested by flipping the roles and making him a mess under your body. But Adam just sinks his face in your neck, whispering.

“I know baby, I know. I got you” he says, interrupted by a moan “Fuck you’re doing so good I swear”.

His movements in you become more erratic, sloppier, and his breath hotter against your ear. The fingers plunged in your hair start stroking your scalp, you try to suffocate your moans of pleasure in his shoulder. You come first around his shaft, whispering quietly his name until you come down from your high. Adam climaxes second, emitting a low, strangled moan in your neck as his wings twitch. You take some time to realize how good it was, your chests rising and lowering with every breath, holding each other. It’s when your mind clears that you realize how atypical of a sexual encounter that was for you and Adam. It was…sweet? Really intimate and not in the physical meaning of the word? Adam never praised you in bed, and you never spoke to him so gently asking to make you finish. And the way he looked at you was absurd, to say at best. With a cherry colored hue on his cheeks, and a light in his eyes you rarely saw in him.

“Ah shit that was great” Adam chuckles, collapsing next to you.

The pride in his face says it all, maybe you were wrong before. You mentally shrug.

“Yeah” you roll on your side, facing him “but I’m so hungry right now”.

Adam sighs, looking up at the ceiling “When I was in Heaven, there was this place that delivered the best fucking ice cream your taste buds could ever graze. A mountain of it. Great for after sex I swear. I miss it”.

Adam takes the opportunity to talk about Heaven more. He’s clearly being nostalgic. He misses it. And while you like hearing him waffling about all the crazy concert he performed, the best restaurants, theme parks and clubs in Heaven, you can’t help but frown. A small smile still lingers on your face, but you ask yourself if Adam really belongs in here. A part of you says of course yes, the other is unsure.

“You know” you say, scooting closer to him “I’ve never really asked myself about how life in Heaven would be. But it really sounds like a beautiful place”.

Adam nods, twisting on his side to face you “Oh fuck yeah it was, I wish I could…”

He interrupts himself as he meets your face, pressed against the pillow. A small, comprehensive smile is gently placed on it, and your eyes are stuck in his own with a visible shine.

Oh no don’t look at me like that.

Adam’s grin disappears, he looks away and tries to play it cool as always, glancing around the room. He clears his throat.

“Yeah I mean, Heaven was great but under a certain perspective…” he trails off.

You wait for him to finish, and he can’t escape your eyes. He finally reciprocates again, getting lost into them.

“Hell is not half-bad, for some reasons” he says.

Adam doesn’t realize it, but now he’s smiling too. His eyebrows are arched upwards in adoration as he ponders on every inch of you. Your now relaxed expression, your glimmering eyes, your naked body covered in white sheets, your head slightly plunged in the pillow. Suddenly, Adam’s smile fades. His eyes go wide, and his heart skips a beat. A wave of realization hits him.

“Holy shit (Y/N) I’m so in love with you”.

Both of you jump in surprise, moving away from each other as the mattress bounces under your bodies. You clench the sheets, and you feel your heart pounding. Where did that come from?!

“What?!” you exclaim.

“WHAT?!” Adam yelps back, incredulous of his own words.

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, he didn’t even mean to say it in his mind actually. You can feel his own panic on your skin, as every inch of your body figuratively catches fire. You don’t know what to say. Adam sits up, covering his face with a hand in embarrassment.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry I ruined everything!” he exclaims, voice panicky.

“Ruined what?”

Oh no. It takes you a second to realize what you said. Adam’s hand files down from his face and looks at you. And you see something you thought you would never witness on Adam’s face. Pain. Adam is hurt. His mouth is slightly open, his breath suspended, his eyebrows knitted. You used to call him many names when you two argued. An asshole, a dirtbag, a dickhead, an irresponsible, immature jerk. But Adam never batted an eye. It’s the first time you see an unmistakable, terrible flash of pain in his face. You feel horrible. You sit up, your mouth open and about to say something. It’s hard to gather the right words after saying something so wrong. You extend a hand towards him, but Adam leans back, away from your touch.

“Adam fuck that’s not what I…” you say, voice shaky.

Adam shuffles away from you again, his face full of regret, embarrassment and clearly pain. He shakes his head, proceeding to get out of bed. He starts looking frantically for his clothes, putting them on as quick as he can. No words come out your mouth, your mind too confused and full of things to process. In just a matter of seconds, Adam is already dressed.

“I-I’m sorry, I gotta go” he stutters, looking at you for a split second.

“Adam, wait! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sa-!”

You don’t have time to finish what you have to say. Adam had already opened the window of your room, and in the blink of an eye he flew away. Shit, shit, shit! Why did you even say that? That came out so wrong. But you couldn’t help it, you were so taken aback by his sudden confession. You mentally punch yourself in the face. Physically, you limit yourself to drag a hand down your face and groan loudly in your palm. You try to give yourself some time to think, you don’t want to hurt Adam even more. You spend some minutes with your face smothered in your pillow, suffocating sounds of pure frustration. After you gathered your thoughts together, you finally get up from the bed. You put your clothes back on, and head towards the still open window. With a strong flap of your wings, you sprint upwards. As you thought, Adam is sitting on the Hotel sign. He looks pissed. His lips are tightly pressed together and his eyebrows are knitted at the corners. He notices you but doesn’t look up.

“Adam, c’mon…” you say, as kindly as you can.

You keep floating in front of him, the wind generated by your wings making Adam’s hair slightly flow. He doesn’t look at you, he’s just staring at his own knees. For a solid minute you two don’t say anything. Silence has never been a thing between you and Adam, but you respect his wish. Suddenly, Adam breaks it.

“It’s not like you have to pity me” he mumbles.

“I’m not pitying you”

“Um yeah? I just ran off like a pissy school girl and here you are looking at me like a lost child”

“Adam-“

“You know how much time has passed since I last said those words?”

You don’t say anything. Adam finally looks up at you, his eyes a mess of emotions.

“Centuries” he says, spiteful of himself.

Your eyebrows arch upwards in surprise, your forehead corrugated. Your stomach burns, as you can finally feel every emotion Adam tried to hide under sarcasm for so long.

“Centuries?” you ask.

“Yeah, and I know I’ve been literally fucking around for a lot of time so it’s actually my fault, but I can’t say that I don’t mean it once I say it”

“Adam, my question was genuine”.

His mind stops in his tracks. You look weirdly calm. A bit unsure, of course, this is your first very serious conversation. But you’re still collected and he envies you.

“I really wanted to ask you what did you think you ruined. Because I’ll admit it, and I don’t wanna hurt you even more, but I don’t know what goes on in your head. We have all this sex, but also some care, but we also bicker. It’s confusing. I don’t even know if monogamy is your thing. But you showed me care. Sometimes, you still are a bit of a jerk let’s be honest. But I felt care too”.

Your stomach is twirling around, but you can’t stop your flow of consciousness. You wanna know what Adam means, what the First Man wants from a sinner he swore to hate not so long ago. Adam strokes his hair with a hand. His blush intensifies.

“I myself don’t really know what we are. If you know please fuckin’ tell me. What I know is that I feel something, love if that’s what we wanna call it. I mean, look at you! You sing along to rock songs with me, you know how to fight and look so badass while doing it, and you’re hot as fuck too! But if you don’t feel the sa-“

In a sudden movement, you zip towards Adam and grab him by his robe to push him on your lips. He lets out a muffled sound of surprise, but quickly closes his eyes to reciprocate the kiss. It’s calm, sweet, your lips and tongue are moving in tandem in such a tender yet passionate manner. It’s full of care, whatever it is. When you pull away, you look at each other in slight embarrassment. But you push it back immediately.

“I would have never thought I’d say it to you, but I do love you, Adam. Even if you’re still not perfect at all, you’re still a dickhead let’s admit it, I feel something for you. And I don’t expect you to suddenly become a better person just for the sake of being with me, but right now I’m sure I love you like this”.

You had blurted it all out in a single breath, still close to Adam’s face after your kiss. And finally, he smiles. Not with his usual teasing, shit eating grin. He smiles genuinely.

“I still don’t know if I’ll be a redeemable man, or if I want to become one. But at least with you I feel a bit of a better man”.

You smile back at Adam. He looks like a whole other person compared to how he was when you met. He still is his old self. But you came to love him. You and Adam lean forward, capturing yourselves in another deep, thoughtful kiss. Your wings meet, grazing each other as they close around you two. After a while of getting lost in your affection, you separate and playfully smirk.

“C’mon you whiny baby, why don’t we go downstairs to join everyone for movie night?” you suggest.

Adam groans and rolls his eyes “Us being a thing doesn’t mean that I have to participate in every fuckin’ activity of this Hotel”

“Uhh, yeah it does? I’m still in charge of forcing you to join. Now get your lazy ass off of there and let’s go”

“Okay, finee but can we have sex again after?”

“Of course we can”

“Hell yeah”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #adam #adam x reader #sinner adam #writers on tumblr #hazbin hotel adam fanfiction #hazbin hotel adam #adam x you #adam fanfiction #enemies to lovers #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin x reader #reader insert #x reader #vivziepop #hazbin hotel x you #adam x y/n

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waterfae · 4 months ago

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Kill My Lord Husband [Part 2]

Summary: Your father has decided to marry you off – and to a Blackwood no less! But you want nothing to do with the famously known Bloody Ben, not when your heart already belongs to another. Your solution? Kill your lord husband.

Pairings: Benjicot “Davos” Blackwood x Reader, Aeron Bracken x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, adult language, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, house-neutral fem!reader, no use of Y/N, absolute nonsense, no beta

Word Count: 1.9+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3

|| General Masterlist || House of the Dragon Masterlist ||

Benjicot continued to quietly observe you, even as Atlanna marched up to pluck you from his arms and steer you towards the rest of the family where you were greeted by Lady Blackwood and Lady Alysanne. Now and then, you would do the same, catching his eyes several more times before quickly looking away after each occurrence, heat rising to your cheeks. A familiar feeling. A cursed feeling. The persistent fluttering within your stomach only further made you feel as though you were burning up from the inside – from sinful hellfire, you decided.

Atlanna caught the flushed look on your features and whispered with a knowing smile, “At least he is pleasing to look upon.”

“It is not a good thing.” You whined in reply, although it was a lie. Who wouldn’t want to have a husband that was delightful to look at and he was indeed a handsome one, but he was not Aeron; you didn’t want him to be pleasing.

His gaze lingered. You could feel the heat of it as you were led towards the castle and ushered into the dining hall for dinner. It lingered still after Atlanna left you to be seated while the servants brought out various dishes to set onto the table. With great effort, you ignored his attentions and withheld your own. It had taken you by surprise, the initial reaction to your betrothed as he held you in his arms. You had felt that jolt only once before; for only one man before. It was jarring. It disgusted you – made you sick with guilt. You pushed the feelings away, just as you pushed the boiled potatoes about your plate. You wanted to hate this man. You needed to hate this man.

“She looks even more like her mother than the last I saw her.” Lady Blackwood’s comment pulled you out from the swarming thoughts of your husband-to-be. You looked up from your plate and smiled politely at the compliment; one you were frequently given.

“Indeed, she does.” Your father said beaming at you as he patted your hand lovingly, “My late wife would have been so proud – so happy to see our families united.”

“You are blessed by the gods.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at Lord Blackwood’s latest remark, unable to control the impulse and catching your actions too late; you hoped no one had noticed. “Fuck the gods.” Was your following thought. You hadn’t believed in the gods since your mother died six years ago; not really – just enough to still have anger towards them. And considering your current predicament, you most certainly believed in them a sufficient amount to be just as – if not more – resentful.

As the evening wore on, bellies grew full and people shifted their seats in favor of conversations. Lord and Lady Blackwood continued to discuss with your father about the upcoming nuptials. Ser Willem and Lady Alysanne bickered over the superiority between his sword and her arrows with Benjicot cutting in as it became more heated to claim his own caliber to be greater than that of his aunt and uncle. Eventually, you found yourself leaving yours to wander over to the balcony, finding no common subject matter to insert yourself.

The clouds above were just as thick as when you arrived, blocking out most of the light from the moon, yet still from where you stood, regardless of the dimly-lit night, you were able to make out the ancient weirwood you had only ever heard stories about; colossal in its size with hundreds of ravens perched against its branches.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Came a voice suddenly from behind. It startled and urged you to search for the speaker. You found Benjicot slowly making his way forward until he was beside you, leaning against the balustrade. “Despite it not having shown a single leaf for nearly a thousand years.” His eyes stayed fixed on the giant, “Poisoned by House Bracken.”

“It certainly is a wonder.” You replied shakily, your heart wrenching at the mention of the Brackens.

“We shall be wed there. Before the old gods.” He said, finally straightening himself to face you, “But you do not seem to believe in the gods.” Benjicot stated it rather than asked.

Your eyebrows raised at his statement. It appeared your reaction earlier at dinner had not gone unnoticed. Had he really still been watching you at that moment? You wondered. His attention span was remarkable, “It’s not that I don’t believe, because I do.” You paused to heave a sigh, “Enough for them to anger me.”

He let out a low laugh, “Do they?” He took a step towards you, “You don’t seem angry.” He scanned your face, searching for what, you weren’t sure, but the look on his was one that hinted at nostalgia, “Annoyed, perhaps, but angry? No.” He shook his head with feigned disappointment, then suddenly smirked, “I’ve seen you angry.”

You sent him a questioning glance.

Before you could voice the query, he explained, “Years ago, I participated in a tourney held by Lord Tully for his nameday. You and your father were there. It was the first time I heard mother and father bring up a marriage between our houses, but your mother had just passed and your father too distraught. Out of friendship and respect, they didn’t pursue the issue further.”

You were taken aback, shocked that as early as then there had already been plans to attempt a match between the two of you; there was never any mention of it before.

“Such a pretty thing, even then.” He added softly, your mouth went dry and gulped as he took another step forward, towering over you, “Prettier all the more when you knocked that Bracken off his feet.” He flashed an amused smile, “Such rage.”

Your jaw fell open as Benjicot continued to speak of it, the memory of that particular time rushing back to the forefront of your mind and it clicked; you knew the exact event he was referring too. That had been the day you first met Aeron – right after you lunged at one of his cousins and struck him over the head with his own helm; retaliation for a remark made about you being half an orphan. Aeron had been the one to pull you off of him and restrain you.

You scrunched up your eyebrows and slowly asked, unsure if you were understanding correctly, “I somehow gained your favor because I was...pretty...and angry?”

He chuckled, “Not so much your anger, but your spirit.” His stormy eyes found yours again and you couldn’t look away, “There was a fire in your eyes and it told me that if my parents wishes were to be fulfilled then you would make an exceptional addition to our house; you were meant to be a Blackwood.”

“You wanted this union?” You breathed as realization hit you.

“I wasn’t against it.”

You suddenly became very aware of how close Benjicot was. Too close. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face and it caused your heart to beat rapidly. You quickly tore your gaze away from his and took a step back, chest heaving, your lungs screaming for air. How long had you been holding your breath?

“I am sorry to inform you, but I am not that girl. Not anymore.” You said in a rush and hoped your words would make him think twice of his opinion of you, “I was young. Still growing, still learning. I’ve matured since then and have become a proper lady.” Distance, you thought as you took another step back, you needed more distance. “I was also grieving for my mother. Not in the right mind. That girl wasn’t – isn’t me. I no longer participate in such uncouth behavior.”

‘I was also not yet in love with Aeron.’ You kept that declaration silently to yourself.

Benjicot tilted his head, studying you for several moments before finally heaving a sigh, “That’s rather unfortunate. For such a flame to burn out.” You noticed him bite his lip before going further, “Mayhaps, overtime, we can reignite it.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your stomach lurch and your head dizzy; you had not even taken another step, yet it still made you stumble. He made a move to try and catch you, but you were able to steady yourself with a nearby pillar, one arm outstretched signaling him to stop and keep the space between you.

“I should retire to my chambers!” You blurted out in a panic.

He blinked at your sudden outburst, “Are you alright, my lady? Have I done something to offend you?”

“I am tired.” You replied while steadying yourself and straightening your skirts, “It has been a very long day.”

“Shall I escort you –”

You cut him off, frantically waving him off with your hands, “No. It’s fine.” You turned on your heel, ready to get as far away from him as possible, “I am capable of finding my own way.”

You weren’t. As soon as you left him on that balcony and bid your father and the Blackwoods good night, you immediately turned the wrong corner exiting the dining hall and had gotten lost. You mentally kicked yourself while you walked around aimlessly for gods know how long, regretful of turning down Benjicot’s offer to escort you to your chambers. You buried your face in your hands at the thought and stomped your foot like a petulant child. As helpful as it might have been to have him, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to withstand another minute. The emotional turbulence, the way your body reacted to his proximity, the things he said and did...it wasn’t love by any means, but it was overwhelming all the same.

“What in the seven hells is wrong with me?!” You asked aloud to no one in particular. In your turmoil, you almost didn’t noticed the brisk footsteps echoing down the hall.

“My lady!” You looked up to find Atlanna scurrying towards you, “There you are!”

Relief washed over you, glad to have been found and not left to wander the halls all night. She stopped in front of you, pausing to catch her breath; she must have been running and searching for you for a long while to be in such a state. You questioned it.

“I was waiting for you in your chambers – unpacking more of your belongings and to help you get ready for bed – when this arrived.” Atlanna held up a piece of parchment, “When you still hadn’t come, I went looking for you. It seemed important.” She scanned the corridor, making sure the two of you were truly alone before whispering, “I think it’s from him.”

For a moment, it felt as though your heart had stopped. You eyed the little scroll in both excitement and fear of what its message may contain. With much hesitation, you accepted and unrolled it. You immediately recognized the handwriting scrawled upon it and a rush of different emotions came to hit you all at once. There was not much to it – the message was very short with simple instructions. You read over his words repeatedly, until you were overcome. You burst into tears without any sort of warning and began to sob violently, shocking Atlanna in the process.

“It’s from Aeron.” You stated the obvious as the tears you held onto for so long finally streamed down your face. Atlanna caught you just as your knees gave way. Unable to carry your weight, she instead guided you to the stone floor. She held tightly onto your trembling form, rocked you from side to side while rubbing your back to soothe you, your cries muffled as you buried your face into her bosom and Aeron’s message crumpled in your tight grip.

a/n: This chapter was getting too long, editing was killing me, and I became too impatient to update. So I broke it up. I made you guys wait too long and simply wanted to serve something. I'm hoping to get the next part out very soon, since it's technically already written. I'm just polishing it up at this point. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

I accidentally made myself cry. Woopsies! Aeron will actually show up next chapter. Shenanigans will be had.

taglist: @pantheonofbeauty @cregansfourthwife @spicyteaandcrumpets @accidentpronedork @cococrazy18

@witch-moon-babe @a-romantic-twst @flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @flowerprincezz

@trouble-sistar @username199945 @claire-loves-music @lady-dragon-rider @spider-stark

@moonnicole @hardkiddonut

#hotd #house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #aeron bracken x reader #aeron bracken #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #🧚🏻‍♀️࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟfaefic

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honeycreammilkshake · 4 months ago

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as both a sukuita and sukuna fan, chapter 268 killed me. at first i thought it was because we finally got another really intimate and highly emotional scene between sukuna and yuuji, and that sukuna chose to die over accepting yuuji's kindness, but now i can't stop thinking about how this entire chapter was such a good character study and a metaphor for one of the most important themes in the story.

in chapter 21, there's a really interesting conversation between junpei and mahito, where junpei disagrees with the quote "the opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference." he knows how evil people can be so he chooses to feel indifferent about human suffering instead. mahito's view on this is also really intriguing, especially considering how he is a curse born from the hate people share for each other.

i could be wrong but it sounds like the basic message here is that deadening yourself to such intense feelings — love or hate — is a type of retaliation for being hurt or consumed by them. which makes me wonder if sukuna had a similar story to junpei, and if that explains how he became what he is.

we know that sukuna wasn't wanted as a child. he was more than likely rejected by both normal society and the jujutsu world. like junpei he was probably treated cruelly or strongly made aware of the many people who hated him. sukuna claimed to know what love is, but i think what he actually understood was the absence of love. he understood maybe what it means to others, but he had never felt or experienced it himself.

which brings me back to junpei's idea that indifference should be the solution. this is kind of the same philosophy sukuna has: he believes in this unshakable hierarchy of strength where the weak should have no right to lament their suffering. his idea was that the strongest were indifferent to suffering, that it's greedy to be lonely because of this. he calls it his "nature" to live in this self-indulgent way that is completely uncaring and selfish.

but then there's yuuji.

yuuji has been alone for a lot of his life. at the beginning, he doesn't have any really close friends, since even the other occult club members don't know him all that well. his only family was wasuke, who was difficult and pushed people away, including yuuji.

after his grandfather's death, he wanted to do right and fulfill wasuke's request of helping people, to be able to die surrounded by those he cares about. he pretty much gave his life to help other people by accepting responsibility as sukuna's vessel, and shows concern and kindness even to strangers.

he seems the exact opposite of sukuna and he stands for all the things that the king of curses hates... so why is it that someone sukuna considers so weak has so much power over him?

the only one who's really managed to make sukuna rethink his ideas of the world has been yuuji. even sukuna acknowledged that he was affected more by yuuji than anyone else.

to him, those who challenged him 1000 years ago were "other people." his relationship with yuuji was and always has been so special that even he admits it.

sukuna mostly strived for indifference his entire life. consuming so many humans was merely a way for him to pass the time until death, as he said, and those tastes were passing and unmemorable for the most part. everything was so unfeeling about the way he made his philosophy sound during his conversation with kashimo, and he couldn't answer as to why he would decide to cross the ages into modern life if his life before had been truly satisfactory. it's like he wasn't even moved to support his own ideals.

but here yuuji is... an annoying brat he called weak and boring, yet every time they fought sukuna looked thrilled and even impressed, though he resented it. and every time yuuji challenged him, sukuna was bothered enough to challenge him right back.

"the opposite of love is indifference." if this is true, sukuna was most likely forced into his indifference due to the fact he was never wanted or loved. but yuuji awakened so many feelings inside of him, too many. living as sukuna's vessel, they shared such a close connection while still opposing each other in every single way. yuuji represented the intense feelings of both love and hate in the way he fought so hard for others while sukuna's own indifference started to break the longer he spent inside of yuuji. he was far more reactive to yuuji than with others, and had even given him special treatment. there were many times he could have killed yuuji or his friends, but he didn't.

yuuji has made it clear that he hates sukuna's indifference to the value of people's lives.

sukuna's indifference towards life is against everything yuuji believes in but strangely enough, yuuji was still willing to accept sukuna. to not only pity him, but to have genuine empathy and compassion for such a monster as well.

he even says to sukuna that they are the same, despite seeming to be complete opposites of each other.

to me, yuuji saying that the monster sukuna became was a matter of chance, shows that he understands how indifference cut sukuna off from having a different fate.

there is a vast area of shades between love and hate, unlike the overwhelmingly static state of indifference. yuuji was showing those shades of love and hate to sukuna, telling him that they could live in the mixed shades of both.

and i really wished sukuna chose to coexist with both that love and hate and remain with yuuji. but he was too used to being indifferent and rejected that offer.

i'm really hoping we get to see yuuji's thoughts on this in the next few chapters, because he looked truly disappointed by sukuna's rejection.

#im still so mad about what happened to junpei ;-;#this is really incoherent and has many errors probably #but i wanted to get my basic thoughts across #honey posts #sukuita #sukuna ryomen #itadori yuuji #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #meta

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rottenfyre · 11 days ago

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Does reader actually love Jason? Or was it really all a lie like he believes? Because if it turns out she really didn’t know he was alive he’s going to hate himself for what he’s done to her

Short answer: Yes.

Long answer: Ah, well. It’s complicated, isn’t it? Because yes, she loved Jason. She loved him more than anyone else in her life. But it’s twisted, isn’t it? Because love doesn’t erase jealousy. It doesn’t erase resentment. She loved him so much it hurt, but she was also jealous of him. Jealous of the way Bruce looked at him, proud and sure, the way he never looked at her. Jealous of how easy it seemed for Jason to slip into that role of “son,” while she was still clawing for scraps of something that looked like affection. She loved him in the only way she knew how—twisted, broken, and selfish. But love like hers doesn’t heal. It burns.

She was jealous of him, you know? From the moment he walked through those doors, her world shifted. He was Bruce’s bright-eyed new project, full of promise and potential, and she couldn’t stand it. Not because she didn’t like him—no, she adored him. That was the problem. She adored him so much that it hurt.

He had everything that she could never have: trust, admiration, strength, love. Bruce looked at Jason like he was proud of him, like he was the son he’d always wanted. And for her? Bruce was the man who picked her up off the ground and expected her to be grateful.

She told herself it didn’t matter, that Jason would never understand the weight she carried. But deep down, she envied him for his hope, for the way he smiled at Bruce like he actually believed he could be loved. She hated that about him. She hated it because it reminded her of everything she lost, everything she could never be.

And so she prodded at his insecurities, planted seeds of doubt in his mind, not because she wanted to hurt him, but because she was scared. Scared that he’d take her place. Scared that he’d leave her behind. Scared that he’d see her for what she really was—a jealous, selfish little girl who didn’t deserve him.

But she did love him. God, she loved him. She trusted him with pieces of herself she didn’t even trust Bruce with. Jason was her safe place, her lifeline, the only person she could run to when the nightmares came or the weight of the world became too much. And in that love, she found herself becoming even more twisted. Because Jason wasn’t just her anchor—he was her cage. She loved him so much that she resented him for it.

She was jealous of him, yes, but she was also jealous for him. She wanted to be the one who mattered most to him, the one who gave him what Bruce never could. And when she couldn’t, when she saw the doubt and hurt in his eyes, it shattered her.

So when Jason says it was all a lie, when he believes she never loved him, it’s not just tragic. It’s cruel. Because she loved him in ways she didn’t even understand herself.

He’s not the only one who’ll hate himself. She will too. Because loving Jason wasn’t just something she did—it was who she was. And now, what’s left of her? Nothing but guilt, nothing but the echo of a boy who called her his everything, and the memory of the girl who destroyed it.

Sometimes, late at night, she wonders if maybe, just maybe, love like that doesn’t disappear entirely. Maybe it lingers in the spaces between them, in the things they can’t say. Or maybe it’s just another lie she tells herself to make it all hurt a little less.

So yes, she loved him. She still loves him. But love isn’t enough to fix this. It wasn’t enough to stop her from lying, or enough to stop Jason from breaking when he thought it was all a lie. It wasn’t enough to stop either of them from becoming the worst versions of themselves.

And now? Now they’re both just haunted by it. By what they did. By what they didn’t do. By what they could’ve been if only they weren’t so goddamn broken.

And maybe that’s the real tragedy of it all: they loved each other. They always did. But love was never the problem. It was everything else that got in the way.

#🕊️.ask #🕊️. dc comics #yandere jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader

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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year ago

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The New Gotham Rogue, Keeper Pt.1

So! When Danny was killed by the Portal, he was tossed into the Realms and the Portal collapsed behind him. All that was left was a small Spiral shaped Crack in Reality hanging in the Air, and a crater where the Portal had originally opened.

His Family and Friends assumed he was vaporized by the malfunctioning Portal and mourned his death, and Danny himself thought he was just Flat Out Killed by the Portal and became a normal Ghost.

Danny was stuck in the Ghost Zone for over a Month, coming to terms with his own Death, before something happened. The Portal Re-opened itself temporarily.

When Danny found it Open, he was Elated! He could finally go back home, explain what had happened to his Parents, maybe even find a way to live in the Human World as a Ghost!

Unfortunately, he wasn't the first one to find the Portal. Lunch Lady had reached it about an Hour before he did, and had begun attacking the students at his old school for changing the Lunch Menu she had concocted in her life.

Danny rushed to stop her, and eventually managed to beat her. Unfortunately, his Parents showed up and started attacking him too. Even after he explained that he was Danny, that he was their Son, they didn't stop. In fact, they got even more aggressive, saying that their son was dead and that he was just another Spook.

In the end, Danny had to run back into the Ghost Zone to escape his parents, dragging Lunch Lady with him.

After that, he decided that he had to become a Guardian of the Portal whenever it randomly Opened, to keep both the Humans and the Ghosts safe.

For over a year, he stopped almost every Ghost that attempted to pass through the Portal, fighting them back or stalling them until the Portal closed again. There were a few incidents where they managed to get passed him, like when Undergrowth mind controlled his old friend Sam, or when Hotep-Ra reawakened Tuckers memories from his pasts lives, but most of the time he had it under control.

Of course not all of them had to get past him, Natural Portals still existed after all, but every time they got to the Human Realm he would find them and drag them back.

Unfortunately, being the one thing standing between the Ghosts and the opportunity to fulfill their Obsessions earned him a lot of resentment.

Everybody he met hated him. He was seen as a Villain in the Zone, the one who prevented everybody from fulfilling their Purpose at every pass.

Danny was not in a good head space about it.

His mind was buckling under the pressure of it all. His duties as the Guardian of the Portal, the hatred the Denizens of the Realms held for him, the lonliness eating away at his Sanity, it was all too much. He felt his psyche cracking ever so slightly every day that passed like this.

It got better for a time in the 2nd year of his Afterlife. He had managed to befriend a few Ghosts, mainly the Leaders of certain Kingdoms who saw the necessity of his action, as well as a few others.

Frostbite, Pandora, and Dorathea were the Pillars upholding his sanity for that period of time. He finally had friends (or at least people who didn't harbor nothing but distain for him). But unfortunately, it couldn't last forever. They had Kingdoms to run, People to Lead, and they couldn't spend all their free time entertaining his selfish whims his need to talk to someone, anyone at all, so he forced himself to stop bothering them so much (they didn't think any of that)

And Guarding the Portal took most of his time as well. His Rouges had started attacking him between it's Openings, hoping to gain control of the Portal while it was inactive so they had first dibs when it did open. Danny was getting run ragged trying to keep them all away.

Eventually, he reached his second Death Day. It didn't really feel like 2 years had passed, in fact it felt like much, much longer than that, but he knew in his Core that it was his 2nd Death Day. Also, whenever he peeked through the Portal, it seemed like 2 years ago passed in the Living World, so he just went with that.

On that day, he discovered something. During a battle with Plasmius, (who was still enraged at him for blowing up his own, stable Portal), he felt something strange. A familiarity that he had never noticed before, which happened when Plasmius briefly turned Human to avoid his attacks.

After the Battle, Danny decided to investigate that feeling. It was a weird sensation, like pressure built up in his Chest that he had never noticed until that moment with Plasmius, the first time he had ever seen him Transform in person.

After focusing on it for a while, Danny felt it getting stronger and stronger until it Burst with a flash of light. And suddenly he was Human again. He was Alive again.

It was another few minutes of testing this ability out before he finally stopped and took it all in. He was a Human. even if he was half Ghost.

He was Human.

He was Alive.

A thought struck him. Did this mean he could go back home? Back to his Family? His friends? Mom and Dad? Jazz? Sam and Tucker?

In an instant he was up and running to the still Open Portal. It hadn't closed since he had beaten Plasmius, as it it felt his desire to return to the Human World.

It actually might have, considering it was a part of him. Clockwork had explained it after the whole, Dan situation. When he had first formed, a piece of his newly formed Core had broken off and become the Core of the Portal instead. It gave him a connection that allowed him to better Guard the Portal, knowing when it was Open or if somebody had used it.

Stopping at the edge of the Opening, Danny thought about all the things he would be able to do again. Hug his Parents, eat Human Food, talk to his friends. Oh God, it had been so long since he had actually talked to another person. None of his Rouges had bothered reciprocating his Quips in almost a year now, so he barely ever had anybody to talk to. Even somebody proclaiming their eternal hatred for him would be better than the endless silence.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the Portal with Hope in his Heart.

On the other side, he found un unfamiliar room.

It was much cleaner than his Parents Lab, with all the different Inventions placed perfectly in neat workstations. Multiple work stations. Had his parents hired some neat freak assistants? Why were there so many Work Stations?

Honestly that wasn't even the most eye catching detail he noticed. There was something else, something more noticeable.

It was the fact that everything in the entire Lab was White.

He heard a series of footsteps approaching the Lab, and before he knew it, the room was filled with GIW Agents and Scientists, all pointing their Weapons at him.

He tried to call out to them, to tell them that it was okay, that he was Human. But all that came out was the static sound of Ghost Speak. Why did that happen? He wanted to use Human Language! Why was he only using Ghost Speak? Had he...had be really forgotten how to speak?

Did he really forget the one thing basic for almost every human? How? Sure it had been a while since he spoke it, but were 2 years of not speaking English really enough for him to forget everything?

But, it hadn't been just 2 years, had it? Time moved strangely in the Ghost Zone, and it definitely felt like longer. How long had it actually been? How long had he been Dead?

Stuck in his own mind, he never saw the barage of attacks coming his way.

...

Danny was stuck in that Lab for over 6 months.

He was kept in that same room he was captured in, constantly being cut open and pulled apart before being left overnight to heal himself.

He tried to explain that he was human in any way possible, but without being able to talk it was hard. He tried writing out in his own blood at once point, but they just cut him opened even more after that, trying to figure out how the "Mindless Ghost" had managed to imitate human writing.

They never listened to him screaming in pain. In their eyes it was just a random Ghost trying to trick them into thinking he could Feel.

Every time he screamed in pain, they would berate him. "You can't feel, shut up!" "You aren't human, stop taking that form!" "You are a Ghost! You can't feel scared, get up!" "You are just a mindless blob of Ectoplasm!" "You would kill everybody here if given the chance!" "You aren't Human!" "You aren't real!" "You're just a Monster!"

"You aren't Alive!"

Even through all that Torment, he didn't stop fighting. He knew he was Human, that he was alive. There was nothing that would ever change that. Or so he thought.

Then they brought his Parents in.

They had previously mentioned them, praising them for their technical skills and cheering the fact that they had sold them the Portal, even if it had not turned back in since he came through. Then, they decided to bring them in to study the Ghost who kept imitating their dead son.

When they first walked in, Danny felt a spark of hope. Maybe they would save him, maybe they would see that he was alive, that he was real.

But they didn't. They just kept on with the same experiments as before, yelling the same things, but it hurt so much more coming from them.

He didn't last long under their study. He broke, and he didn't think he would ever put himself back together again.

...

It was at the 6 Month Mark that something new happened. As it turns out neither his, nor the Portal's absense had gone unnoticed in the Zone.

In his time trapped in that Lab, he had used his connection to the Portal to keep it from opening, using every ounce of his Willpower to force it to stay closed, no matter how much it struggled under his control.

When he was finally Broken by his Parents, he lost his grip on the Portal, and that night it opened for the first time in Months.

The first one to find him was, coincidentally, the Lunch Lady. The first ever Ghost he guarded the Portal from.

What she saw when she floated into that Room would forever Scar her memories. Danny in his Ghost Form laying strapped to an Operation Table, his organs out in the Air, his ribs spread out like an Eagle. At the center of his Chest sat his Core, exposed for the whole world to see, showing off all the damage it had received since the Scientists first found it all those months ago.

He looked up at her, and his eyes told her all she needed to know. Run.

She fled back through the Portal, horror stricken across her face. Danny managed to shut it down again after that.

Apparently news of what she had seen seen had spread around the Realms. Even when the Portal was active, nobody came through. The few times anybody did poke their head through, they saw him and left screaming in Terror.

Danny knew they would never save him. He was their Enemy, the Villain in their story, they would never risk themselves trying to help him.

And honestly he didn't know if he wanted to he helped. This was all his Fault. He was the one to open the Portal, he was the one who Guarded it for all that time, he was the one who got himself into this mess.

One time, he felt the Familiar Aura of Pandora approaching the Portal, and forced it closed before she could reach it. Her head managed to get through for a moment, but when she looked at him with those pleading eyes, begging to let her help him, he closed them as tight as he could and shut the Portal Closed, pushing her Back into the Realms.

She was trying to save him. But she didn't deserve to get hurt trying to help a waste of space like him.

He needed to get the Portal away from the Lab. It was only a matter of time before he lost any ability to close the Portal at all, before the Scientists managed to find a way to keep it open and invade the Realms. He needed to get it away from them, if only to protect the Ghosts on the other side.

He needed to do his Job, to guard the Portal. From either Side.

...

It took another month of conserving his strength before he managed to break out of his Shackles. It took a bit if trial and error, but eventually he found a way to draw the Portal into himself to transport it away.

It was technically a piece of his Core after all, he just had to slot it back into Place.

After that, he had to find a way out of the Lab. The Scientist he found wandering outside his room didn't have any Overshadowing Protection at the time, so he managed to get halfway to the Exits before the alarms sounded.

Then it was a mad dash of fighting off Guards and dodging the Security System to get to the Door. He dropped the Body when he reached the Doors.

It didn't get any easier after escaping the Building, but after several hours of chasing he eventually lost them.

He kept running though. He couldn't keep the Portal within him forever, and he needed a safe place to let it out. Hours of running eventually led him to somewhere that might work.

Gotham City.

...

Cass wasn't entirely sure that she was making the right call in this, but Croc's Body Language seemed to suggest that he was being genuine in his intentions, so she kept on following him.

In the past few Months, there had been a string of incidents where Government Agents in White Suits had incited fights and shootouts while "investigating" a supposed escaped Superpowered Prisoner. They had justified themselves by saying that the civilians they were attacking were actually Extra Dimensional Monsters known as Ecto-Entities, also known as Ghosts.

Of course a simple blood test always disproved them, but they were relentless in their "investigation". She used air quotes because they were some of the most Incompetent and Dimwitted morons the team had ever encountered, which was saying something. The only semi-competent ones where the pair of Scientists who commanded them, but even they were borderline insane, constantly ranting about how Evil Ghosts were and how they wanted to pull them apart molecule by molecule.

Unfortunately, there was nothing her Dad could do about them. They were a legitimate Government Agency, no matter how incompetent, and they hadn't been lucky enough to actually do any damage in their multitude of fights, so her Dad couldn't really force them to leave.

He had however started looking into the missing Ghost Prisoner they were chasing. If he could just find it, they could get the GIW out of the City and be done with them.

Her Dad and Tim's investigation had led him to a few short reports from a couple of months ago, describing a Humanoid figure covering in a glowing green liquid stalking the streets one night before disappearing all of a sudden. There wasn't much to work with, but the Team kept on the investigation in the hopes that they could get rid of the GIW sooner rather than later.

Unfortunately Cass, Damian, and Jason were exempt from the investigation, because for whatever reason whenever they came anywhere near the GIW, they started attacking them.

They had argued that they could take care of themselves, but Bruce had been adamant that they stay out of it. Damian had eventually relented, trusting the orders of his Father. Jason had flat out refused, but said that he would stay out of it just as long as the GIW stayed out of Crime Alley.

Cass however? She didn't want to be left out! She had more than proven that she could take care of herself, but her Dad was still too paranoid to even let her out of the House. She decided that she would undergo her own Investigation, and prove to her Dad that he shouldn't have ousted her from the Case like that.

She decided to take a different approach to the Investigation. Her Family was still combing through reports from the previous few months to see if there were any more mentions of the Figure, but she thought of something else.

After looking at the randomly reported sightings of the Entity that her family had collected, she noticed something. They were all set near Farners Markets, Grocery Stores, Restaurants.

The Entity was looking for Food.

She didn't think extra-dimensional Entities would be eating the same food as other Humans, but then again these things are supposedly impressions of Human Emotion that remain after death. Maybe it held onto the same Habits?

She decided to follow that potential lead.

Tracking stolen food across Gotham was tricky, because so many people were stealing food to survive. But eventually she got down a Pattern. It would strike at nighttime, stealing only Canned Food, and the Camera's would be covered in static for his duration in the store. Curiously, it would also take a few containers of Fudge whenever the store had it.

It was very steady for a while, and eventually she found that her list of locations matched up to the sightings the others had gathered had from the past few months.

On the day she was about to reveal the results of her investigation to her Dad, something changed.

The GIW had a major shootout, where they reported that they had found and injured the Prisoner, but it had Escaped.

The reports of stolen food matching it's M.O. stopped coming in after that. She thought that her Lead had been lost, and was mentally cursing the GIW in her head for days, before an offhand comment from one of her brother's caught her attention.

"Croc was seen stealing Canned Food recently. Didn't think he ate anything but Meat, but I guess he got a taste for Chocolate Fudge."

So, she investigated the Lead and found that Croc had taken up stealing the same type of food as the Entity did.

Quickly, she looked up the maps of every store that had been hit, as well as the Sewer Systems, and looked at them side by side. They matched up. At every single location where the Entity had stolen it's food, there was a Major Sewer Line.

And each of those Sewer Lines were in Killer Croc's territory. Killer Croc was harboring the Entity, he was feeding it.

She had solved it! The Ghost Entity was living in the Sewers!

She almost got up and ran to tell her father the news right then and there, but she paused. There were still unanswered questions, questions she wanted to figure out before telling her Dad.

Why was Croc feeding the Entity?

What connection did they have?

Why was the Entity in the City in the first place if the GIW was there as well, looking for it?

She needed all the answers before presenting it to her dad. She wanted to cover all of her Bases if she was going to admit that she went against her Dad's orders, not wanting to anger him. (She knew he wouldn't be mad at her, but old fears die hard.)

It took a while to find a way to sneak out of the House, but she managed it eventually. She roped Alfred into covering for her, saying she just needed some fresh air after being stuck in the house for almost a Month. Which was actually true.

After that it was just a matter of scoping out the spot where she had predicted Croc would be first, and waited.

It took a few tries to get the right location, but eventually she managed to find him. Croc was wary of her at first, and when she mentioned the food matching the MO of somebody else she was tracking, he flipped out!

He wouldn't let her get a word in, not that he was speaking very much, but still.

He calmed down after a few minutes of her not fighting back. She convinced him that she just wanted to talk to the one she was Tracking, whoever he was, so she could ask them for help in getting the GIW out of the City. Which was technically the truth.

After a bit more convincing, he caved and told her to follow him, before descending into the Sewers.

She was thankful that Croc was one of the more reasonable of the Rouges, and that she had a good enough reputation that he managed to trust her.

So here she was, following Croc through his Territory under Gotham, about to meet this Ghost Entity she had been tracking for over a Month now.

After a long walk, they emerged into a relatively large Room. It seemed to be an abandoned Sewer Reservoir, one of those large Rooms you see on TV that's like a giant Whirpool that characters are always getting sucked into (she hadn't had much to do while stuck in the house okay? She had been watching a lot of TV recently), except it was completely Dry.

There were a few places around that were obviously set up like different rooms in a house. A bedroom, a kitchen, an old couch and a box TV set up in front of it, and so on. This seemed to be one of Crocs more lived-in homes, which spoke to the trust he was placing in her not revealing this place to the other Bats. She felt slightly honored at that thought.

He led her to a section of the Base slightly off to the side, a room that wasn't entirely visible from the Enterance.

He stopped her at the door and called into it. "Hey Keeper, there's someone here to see you."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and ushered her into the Room.

It looked like a typical Bedroom, an old wardrobe was set off to the side, one of the door having fallen off. Inside there weren't that many items, just a few shirts and some pants. Closer to the center of the room, there was a Table covered with various empty cans and utensils. On three walls there were various posters and drawing featuring stars and constellations, seemingly placed haphazardly around the room with no real pattern. Most importantly, there was a Bed in the Corner.

And on that bed, was the Entity she had been tracking. And he was just a Kid.

He looked just like a normal teenager, about the same age as her, but he had White Hair and Green Eyes. He was sitting in an upright position, probably having sat up to get a better look at his visitor, and she could see the mess of bandages on his body.

The freshest ones were obviously for the wounds that had gotten him put on bed rest, a strip of clean bandages covering his stomach, with a bulge above his lower left stomach showing where he had gotten shot by the GIW.

But the rest of them, the older ones, they covered his entire main body. The bandages where old and slightly dirty, but it was obvious they had been placed in a hurry.

She was so busy studying his wounds that she almost missed Croc introducing her.

"Orphan, this is Keeper. Keeper, this is Orphan." He told the boy, "She says she wants to help get rid of the GIW."

The boy merely glanced at her before directing his gaze to Croc. A static-like sound seemed to Emit from his form, like a Trill, but against all logic she seemed to understand what it meant.

Discontent. Wariness.

Croc seemed to understand it too, and said, "Keeper, she can help get rid of the GIW. Don't you want them gone?"

Another Static Trill. Uninterest. Indifferent. Resigned.

"You can't just give up like that! If you won't fight back for yourself, at least fight back for the sake of protecting the P-", he was cut off by a wave of Static.

Anger. Displeasure. Stop.

Croc stuttered a bit. "I-sorry Keeper, I didn't mean to- I-" He was cut off again.

Displeasure. Leave.

They got the hint. Leaving the room, and walking to the exit.

Cass made one final glance behind her, meeting his eyes through the open doorway. They were cold and lifeless voids, as if he had cut himself off from all emotion.

"Sorry 'bout this Orphan. Keeper needs help, but he doesn't think he deserves it." He told her as they walked back to the surface. "He's not in a good head space right now, hasn't been since me n' Grundy found him wandering the Sewers all those months ago."

She made a questioning sound, and he picked up her meaning quickly. "Grundy is out finding more space themed stuff for his Room. Said somethin' about needing to fill an Obsession, but can't really explain it more than that."

She nodded in understanding as they reached the Sewer Drain where they had first decended into his Territory. She climbed out, but gave a final goodbye to Croc as she left.

She pointed at herself, and said, "I. Come. Back. Soon."

He gave her a slight Nod, and she leaped away.

By the time she got back to her Room in the Manor, her mind was a raving.

She was dumbfounded. Cass had originally tracked him down to make sure her theory was right before reporting it to her Dad, so that the GIW would take him before leaving and not coming back. She was dead set on getting the GIW out of the City by turning whatever entity they were chasing in.

But every intention of reporting him had left her the moment she had seem him in person. He was just a kid, a teenager like her. He was so hurt he couldn't get out of his Bed, his body was covered in bandages from presumably previous encounters with the GIW, and he was resigned to his fate.

He didn't care if he lived or died. He was just fine with letting the GIW capture him and injure him again, but there was something he was protecting that made him keep going on.

She wanted to help him.

But it wasn't because she pitied him. It was because Keeper had such a familair expression on his face when she left. One she had seen in the mirror a thousand times before her Dad had taken her in. And she swore she wouldn't let another kid keep that same expression as long as she could help it.

But there was also something else. When he was talking to Croc, and Croc mentioned that she wanted to help get rid of the GIW, she saw something flicker in his eyes. Just for a moment.

And she might be wrong, but she thought she saw a flicker of Hope.