#and the tone she let exist in her voice when she responded to me with a very uncharacteristic “Oh Katie.”

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han's fate - Pt. 2

Warnings: Mentions of depression and s*icidal thoughts.

Notes: First off, I want to thank everyone who read the first part, liked it, reblogged it or left a comment. Even if the fandom is smaller now, your support has encouranged me to keep writing. I hope you will enjoy the second chapter! If you'd like to be tagged in the upcoming chapters, feel free to let me know.

Disclaimer: Friendly reminder not to reblog this with weird shipping tags. I hate to say it in each post but I know some people in the fandom just can't behave.

Pairings: Bi-Han x Sektor, Kuai Liang x Harumi

If you haven't read it yet, please check out Part 1 first.

@yandere-transformers-rock Chapter 2 is out!

"Two of your ribs are broken", Liu Kang concludes after adding gentle pressure to his injuries to assess the damage.

Bi-Han resists the urge to hiss in pain when he feels something beneath his skin shift under the fire god's touch. He doesn't bother responding as he swats Liu Kang's hand away and pulls the fabric of his tunic over the darkening bruises along his left side. He's well aware that he deserves them – and far worse – for what he had said about Smoke's family. His youngest brother's sudden outburst had surprised him regardless. Sure, his intention had been to provoke Tomáš, to anger him and perhaps even to get him to finish what Bi-Han himself had started, for Tomáš to kill him and release him from the purgatory his existence had turned into. The Enenra's intervention, however, had not been part of his calculations. Initially, he hadn't been picky about who would get to kill him, it didn't matter if it was Tomáš or the Enenra, but then he had seen the haunted look on his brother's face, how he had trembled, his eyes full of a fear he had last seen on the day father had brought Tomáš home... And now all he feels is nagging, all-consuming guilt.

"You still haven't touched your food“, Liu Kang reminds him, nodding to the full plate he had placed at his bedside earlier. Bi-Han still doesn't understand why the fire god is willing to stoop as low as to personally bring him food like an ordinary servant. He's almost tempted to ask, but then again, he's sure that it's just a ploy to earn his trust. Liu Kang is putting a lot of effort into that, he notices. Does he really believe Bi-Han will be fooled so easily? Why he's still of interest to the fire god is beyond him. He serves no more purpose now. If anything, he's a threat, a liability. Why doesn't Liu Kang simply dispose of him?

"I won't eat." As if to prove his point, he pushes the plate a little further away from him.

"Why do you wish to keep suffering?" Liu Kang lets out a sigh when he receives no answer and in a far more serious tone, he adds: "You're dying, Bi-Han. Not at the moment maybe, but if we continue the treatment and you're cured... your organs won't be able to take up their normal functions again. And if we stop the treatment you will be consumed by chaos magic once more."

"I'm well aware."

Liu Kang goes quiet for a while. "What you said to Tomáš earlier was uncalled for."

"He wanted to hear the truth and so I told him."

"I know you angered him on purpose. It was cruel of you to do that. He cares about you." Liu Kang gets up and begins to busy himself with the preparations for his treatment.

Bi-Han watches him. „If he had cared, he would have obeyed me.“

Liu Kang places a stack of clean towels on his pillow and a wooden basin by the bed's headrest in case he gets sick again. "You are so devoted to your clan. Do you not wish to return to the Lin Kuei?"

"What for?" He doesn't care if the bitterness in his voice gives away his misery. "I have failed in my duties. I am no longer grandmaster."

"Your warriors are still loyal to you and you alone", Liu Kang interjects. "Sektor had conditions when I took you here. Every month, she demands a detailed report on the progress of your treatment. I have told her your condition is improving. Do you truly wish to disappoint her?"

Sektor... Bi-Han feels a pang of guilt as he thinks of her. They had always been kindred souls, sharing the same goals, the same ambitions. Surely, she would understand his decision. She knows him better than anyone else. She would understand that he prefers to die with dignity. He knows Sektor would continue on. They had promised that to each other a long time ago. If one of them were to die, the other would keep going. He had become a blight on his clan, a grandmaster too weak to even save his own life. He hates to admit this, but he's ashamed to face his warriors again. How would they still respect him?

"Sektor will understand", Bi-Han says with as much conviction as he can muster. "Why? Are you worried she will blame you if I die?"

Liu Kang ignores his question. "What about your brothers?"

"Why should I care for those traitors?"

"They still care for you. Tomáš came to see you, did he not?"

"Has he left yet?" Bi-Han tries to sound indifferent, to pretend he doesn't care. A small part of him fears the answer. He doesn't want to admit this even to himself, but he had been glad to at least see one of his brothers again. After all the time that had passed, he had assumed they had forgotten about him entirely. Not once had he dared to hope for them to visit him, instead covincing himself that he doesn't want to see them, even when their loss had left aching scars on his soul.

"He's still here. He chose to stay, even after how you treated him."

"Because you wouldn't let him leave?"

"Because he won't give up on you. And neither will I." Liu Kang's voice is firm but gentle. Reassuring. The promise of salvation if he's willing to accept it. Bi-Han hates that something within him wants to extend his hand towards that light, wanting the comfort Liu Kang so willingly offers to him after every misstep, after each betrayal, and yet he flinches away again, as always when he's shown compassion and kindness, retreating into the shadowy corners of the darkness that had taken over his soul. Maybe because he knows he's undeserving of comfort. Maybe he doesn't even deserve the mercy of death.

"Instead of wasting your time on me, you should go and help Tomáš."

"What do you mean?" Liu Kang takes a seat at his side again and Bi-Han inhales deeply, bracing himself for what is about to happen next. He's familiar with the steps of the treatment by now – and with the agony that comes with it, but he still tenses up each time he sees the medical equipment, the little silver tray with the needles on it, the strange apparatus the healers wheel into the room each time... He loathes the procedure.

Reluctantly, Bi-Han extends his arm to the fire god, pulling up the sleeve, so the first needle can be inserted into his skin. He doesn't show it, of course, but he dreads that part of the treatment the most. He despises needles. Seeing them makes him feel sick to his stomach. He used to be unbothered by them before his torture. Yet another reminder of how weak and utterly pathetic he had become. Fortunately for him, Liu Kang seems to be aware of the effect needles have on him now. He always talks to him during this phase of the process. Distracts him. Positions himself at an angle that makes it harder for Bi-Han to see the vicious little metal spikes.

"Did he not tell you?", Bi-Han asks as he feels the needle prick his skin. "Can you not see what is happening to Tomáš? He wasn't himself when he attacked me. Something else took control of him."

"The Enenra. I know."

Another needle follows, this time stinging his neck. Then a third one. It pierces the back of his hand, stabs a vein that runs all the way up his forearm. Thin, almost translucent tubes are attached to the needles, draining the infected blood from his body.

Bi-Han keeps his gaze trained on the ceiling to stay calm, only briefly glancing over to glare at the fire god. "Then why haven't you cured him yet? Surely, it must be within your power if you're even able to cure me."

"It's not that simple", Liu Kang explains calmly. He places one hand over Bi-Han's chest, where the chaos magic manifests itself in a horrifying scar at the center, just beneath the layers of his robe, like a dreadful, undead heart. Light spreads from Liu Kang's palm, burning into his very soul.

It's painful beyond imagination. Bi-Han finds himself gripping onto the edges of the bed, his jaw tensing.

"I took a risk when I began your treatment", the fire god continues. "Geras and I were unsure of what would happen to you once we start removing the chaos magic from your body. It is infused with your very being. Therefore, it's impossible to disspell it all at once. In fact, we still don't know for sure that it won't kill you once fully removed. The same could happen to Tomáš. Do you still want me to attempt curing him now that you know?"

"No", Bi-Han snaps. "Only a fool would meddle with things they can't comprehend. What good are you? What good are your godly powers if you can't save anyone?"

Liu Kang lowers his gaze and for a moment his eyes almost appear to glow less, as if the light within them is suddenly dimmed by his sadness. "I have asked myself that question many times, Bi-Han. When I created this timeline, I had hoped that things would play out differently and I could undo past mistakes, give everyone a better life and a chance at peace. I wanted Queen Sindel to grow old at her husband's side. I wanted Kenshi to keep his eyesight this time. I wanted you to live and be the grandmaster you were always meant to be. Unfortunately, even though I created this timeline, I am not in control of how certain events unfold."

Bi-Han scoffs. "So you won't help Tomáš at all?"

"That is not what I said. His condition is indeed concerning. I will speak to Ashrah once she returns. She knows much more about the Netherrealm's demons than I do. She might know a way to help him."

"And until then?"

"Until then he will be safe here with us. Should anything happen, Geras and I can intervene."

That won't suffice, Bi-Han wants to say, but he chooses to keep quiet instead. He doesn't need Liu Kang to think he still cares about his brothers. Why should he concern himself with what becomes of Tomáš anyway? Deep down he knows the answer. No matter how much he resents Kuai Liang and Tomáš for betraying him, he is still an older brother wishing to protect his younger siblings, an instinct existent even in death. He knows it's his fault that Tomáš lost control to the Enenra earlier. He knows Tomáš must hate him after what he had said and done, even more so than before... And yet he still didn't choose to leave. Bi-Han cannot understand why, but he has no time to think about it.

He cries out through gritted teeth when Liu Kang's magic pierces deeper, eating its way through the darkness within him. It fights back, of course. He can feel it seeping into his bones as it tries to flee from the light. Dizziness and nausea overwhelm him. He manages to turn his head to the side just in time to avoid throwing up all over himself. Inky blackness spills over his lips and into the wooden basin below like a physical manifestation of all his wrongdoings, of his hatred, greed and thirst for power and the void in his heart fueling it all... He deserves this. Every last bit of it.

Liu Kang's brows furrow, his expression somewhere between focus and concern.

Something is wrong, Bi-Han can tell. He screws his eyes shut as the pain grows more intense. Heat spreads throughout his body, terrible, scorching heat, as if his skin is being set on fire. He had undergone this same treatment countless of times, he knows what it's supposed to feel like, he's familiar with the pain... but this is different. It's not supposed to feel like this.

Suddenly, it all stops. The heat. The agony of burning alive. In a heartbeat, it's all over. His chest rises and falls quickly in short laboured breaths. Slowly, Bi-Han blinks and opens his eyes to see Liu Kang leaning over him, a somber look on his face.

"I cannot continue treating you. Your body has grown too weak."

Bi-Han doesn't respond. He expects to feel triumphant that in the end, this means he will finally have his wish. Is that not what he wanted? Instead, he only feels numb.

"I will try to find another solution", the fire god reassures him quickly, mistaking his silence for disappointment. "For now, you have to start looking after yourself better. If you want to last a bit longer, you have to take your medicine daily from now on."

"Still so determined to save me", Bi-Han spits. "Do you enjoy watching me suffer?"

"I know you want to live."

"Is that so?"

Liu Kang gestures to his bandages. "Someone with skills as lethal as yours wouldn't have missed his own heart."

-

Tomáš doesn't sleep that night.

Maybe it's out of fear that the nightmares will return, that the Enenra will take over once more and its grip on him will be permanent this time. Maybe it's because he can't stop reaching for his mother's hunting knife, checking that it's still there, still intact and not another thing broken to pieces like his past or the brotherly bond Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and him once shared. But above all else, sleep won't come to him because the vision Geras showed him keeps replaying in his mind. How could Bi-Han keep such secrets from him? What else is there that his brother knows and he doesn't? In the morning, Tomáš tries to gather up the courage to go and confront Bi-Han. He's anything but eager to speak to him again after yesterday's events, but he holds onto hope that somewhere within the depths of Bi-Han's corrupted soul, the person he saw in that brief flashback is still alive. With each step he takes down the long, silent hallway that hope fades a little bit more. For all he knows, Bi-Han might refuse to speak to him entirely.

Tomáš enters without knocking, ignoring the way Bi-Han looks up and immediately glares when he sees him.

He's not intimidated by it anymore. Instead, he can't help but frown as he notices how much worse his brother looks compared to yesterday. His skin is pale, thin like paper, so thin he can see the veins bleed through it like a pattern of black cobwebs. The room itself looks no different, except that the table that got destroyed in their fight yesterday had been replaced by a new one. On top of it sits a bowl of medicine and a plate of food. Tomáš stays by the door this time, crossing his arms and leaning against it. The karambit is not on him today. He left it behind in the safety of his own room. He won't allow Bi-Han to use it against him this time.

"What do you want?" Bi-Han growls. He doesn't bother to conceal his hostility towards him.

"The same thing I wanted yesterday. Answers." Tomáš tries to make his voice sound steady, but he doesn't succeed.

"You've always been persistent. Most pests are", Bi-Han scoffs, each word dripping with mockery and malice.

It stings, even if Tomáš does his best to pretend he's unaffected. "Is that what I am to you? A pest?"

Bi-Han ignores him.

"Then why did you look after me all these years?"

His older brother shows no reaction.

"I know what you did for me. I know everything now." His voice shakes as the words finally burst out of him. "You were protecting me. I saw it. It was you who brought me tea every day. I had no idea it was you. Why didn't you tell me? Why–"

"Will you quit babbling like a fool?", Bi-Han snarls, looking both annoyed and confused.

Tomáš takes a deep breath. "Geras showed me the past. I saw you talk to Master Xiaoqing. You had him prepare something for me. A potion."

"I don't know what you're talking about", Bi-Han lies half-heartedly.

"Yes, you do!" Tomáš almost shouts. He didn't mean to raise his voice, but he's tired of playing games, of all the lies and secrets. "You knew I had nightmares, so you asked Master Xiaoqing to find a way to make them stop. Why did you do it if I'm just a pest? If I was never a brother to you, why did you go through all that trouble, even keeping it a secret from father? You've always treated me like an outsider, like I didn't belong with the Lin Kuei. Wouldn't you have wanted him to cast me out?"

"Why would I have wanted that?"

"You tell me. You're the one who always hated me."

"I never said I did."

Tomáš laughs bitterly. "You made sure to let me notice."

Bi-Han's eyes narrow. "How? I let you train with us, I let you join us on missions. I never excluded you from anything. Why would you think I hated you?"

Tomáš thinks back to all the times Bi-Han had shut him down when he had tried to offer advice, how his brother had barely ever spoken to him outside of missions or their training – and even when he did, it was only to bark orders at him or to criticize his form. Then again, he thinks of the scene Geras had showed him, how worried Bi-Han had seemed about him, and what he had once been so certain of no longer makes sense to him anymore. He doesn't know how it took him so long to come to this conclusion, but he realizes he hardly knows anything about Bi-Han. His oldest brother is a stranger to him.

"You constantly reminded me that my blood is not Lin Kuei", Tomáš finally responds. "You always made me feel like I'm not good enough. Tell me what I did wrong. How did I fail you?"

"You haven't failed me", Bi-Han says surprisingly gently. Then his face darkens again. "Not until you chose to turn your back on the clan that raised you."

"How can you hold that against me? Look at all the awful things that have happened since you decided to join Shang Tsung. Look at what happened to you, to me, to Kuai Liang. To this whole timeline. This can't possibly be what you wanted."

"It wasn't."

"Then what did you want, Bi-Han?"

"No more than what the Lin Kuei deserved. Our freedom. Recognition for our efforts. The power to protect the Lin Kuei's legacy."

"You could have told us! You could have told Liu Kang you want to negotiate."

"What for? So he would dismiss me?"

Tomáš sighs. "I understand you were frustrated, but have you ever thought about us?"

"Of course I have!”, Bi-Han snaps. "I wanted to share the Lin Kuei's glory with you."

"We never wanted glory, Bi-Han. We already had everything we wanted. A home. A purpose. We had you. To me, that was enough."

Bi-Han turns away from him, looks out the window again just like he did yesterday the first time they had talked. He wonders if it's because there's nothing else for him to do in here or if his brother simply misses being able to go outside.

"Do you want to join me for a walk?”, Tomáš asks after realizing he will get no other answer.

Bi-Han's eyes light up, only for a moment before his expression darkens again. "I am confined to this room. And even if I wasn't...", he trails off, but doesn't finish the sentence.

Tomáš watches him clench his fists helplessly. He doesn't know what had happened between yesterday and today, but he can tell that Bi-Han seems weaker than he did only mere hours ago. Perhaps he had spent all his energy on their foolish fight yesterday.

Tomáš sighs. "If you need help walking, I can–"

"I don't need your help."

"It's still early. The monks have gathered for their morning meditation and Lord Liu Kang is with them. No one would see.” He figures it's Bi-Han's pride that won't allow him to accept his assistance. He knows his brother wouldn't want to seem pitiful in the face of others. Thinking about it, it no longer surprises Tomáš that Bi-Han is so rigid and tense all the time. He can't imagine how tiring it must be to always put on a strong facade, to never be able to express exhaustion, sadness or pain. With everything that Bi-Han must have kept bottled up inside him, Tomáš doesn't know how he didn't snap even earlier. He only wishes his brother had shared his burdens with Kuai Liang and him.

"There's nothing wrong with needing help", he tries again, refusing to give up so easily. He's well aware of how stubborn Bi-Han can be, but he won't let that deter him from helping his brother.

Bi-Han glares daggers at him. “You'd go against Liu Kang's orders?”

"When I needed it, you were there to help me too."

When Bi-Han doesn't protest anymore, Tomáš carefully reaches for his arm to help him up.

With a hiss, Bi-Han slaps his hand away. “Touch me and you'll lose a hand.”

Tomáš resists the urge to roll his eyes, but he decides not to keep pushing. Instead, he stands closely at his brother's side to make sure he can offer assistance if needed. He watches Bi-Han sit up slowly, swinging one leg over the edge of the bed and then the other. When he finally stands up, his legs almost give out from underneath him. Tomáš rushes forward to catch him, but stops when Bi-Han holds up a hand to let him know he's fine. He staggers for a moment, but manages to steady himself. His first few steps seem shaky, his legs wobbly and weak from disuse. Tomáš lets him lead the way.

The morning chill makes him shiver as they step out through the temple doors. He watches Bi-Han squint and raise a hand to shield his eyes from the daylight blinding him. It makes him wonder just how long it had been since his brother had last left his room. Although he understands Liu Kang's concerns, Tomáš doesn't agree with his decision to confine Bi-Han to that small, nearly empty room in the temple. If he was trapped in a tiny space like that, stuck in bed, he would lose his sanity too. He approaches one of the benches, sits down and waits for Bi-Han to follow.

Once they're both seated, Tomáš draws in a deep breath.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why did you help me if I was never a brother to you?"

Bi-Han huffs. "Your nightmares were getting worse by the day. Mother and father refused to take action. They were convinced it would get better in time, but it didn't. Something had to be done. Even I am not as cold-hearted as to take joy in watching someone else suffer."

"So it was just pity?"

Bi-Han says nothing and Tomáš feels his chest sting. Did Bi-Han ever even consider him family?

"All I wanted was to be your brother." He no longer cares if he sounds pathetic. "Even now, I'm stupid enough to hope we can still be brothers."

"We could have been brothers, had you not left the Lin Kuei to side with Kuai Liang against me."

"Kuai Liang never made me feel like I didn't belong", Tomáš snaps. "And I don't believe you. If you wanted us to be brothers, why did you treat me so coldly?"

"Because I knew you couldn't be trusted."

"What? I've always been loyal to you. I did my best to–"

"This isn't about loyalty", Bi-Han interrupts him sharply. "Tell me honestly, did you ever sit at lunch, looking at each of the faces around you, wondering which one of them did it? Which one of them held the blade that ended your mother's life? Did you never want to know?"

Tomáš blinks. "I–"

"And if someone had pointed them out to you, what would you have done? Would you have killed them? If someone had given you the chance to get justice for what happened to your family, would you not have taken it?"

He opens his mouth to respond, to deny it, but he finds that he can't. He doesn't know what he would have done back then. It had taken him a long time to adjust to life within the Lin Kuei, to stop resenting himself for joining the clan that had taken his mother and sister from him. At times, he had been angry. Other times, he had only felt empty. In his heart, however, he had not once thought of betraying the Lin Kuei. No amount of retribution would have returned his family to him. Tomáš had always been painfully aware of that.

"I was your brother, but I was also grandmaster", Bi-Han continues. "I had to think of the whole clan. I knew the Lin Kuei took everything from you. Do you expect me to believe that you never resented us for it? That you never once thought of taking vengeance? I know I would have."

"Then we're different people, Bi-Han. I don't want to live my whole life resenting someone. I don't want to live for vengeance. With a score to settle. A life like that would be miserable. I never intended to seek revenge." Tomáš sighs. "Of course, it was difficult for me to come to terms with being a part of the clan that killed my family, but I wouldn't have hurt anyone, especially not you or Kuai Liang."

"Maybe not you, but what about the Enenra?"

Tomáš falls silent. Lately, he had been quicker to anger, his dreams filled with screams, with blood and violence. If Bi-Han hadn't made sure to weaken the Enenra's influence on him for all those years, Tomáš cannot tell what he would or wouldn't have done.

"Do you think I chose this?", he asks. "The Enenra possessing me isn't my fault, just like it's not your fault that Havik turned you into–”

Tomáš stops himself when he sees Bi-Han flinch at the mention of the Titan's name. Suddenly, he feels guilty. He shouldn't have brought that up. The last thing he wants is to remind his brother of the horrors he had endured.

"I know it's not your fault", Bi-Han says before Tomáš can apologize. "And I know I... missjudged you."

Tomáš stares at him, unblinking. Of all the things he had expected Bi-Han to say, this wasn't something he would have ever seen coming. He knows it's the closest thing to an apology he will ever hear from his brother and even though it's not quite that, in this very moment, it means everything to him. He swallows. "You can still fix things now. It's not too late for that."

"How?" Bi-Han's voice is so quiet, Tomáš almost misses that one word entirely.

"Live."

"That's it?"

"It's a start."

Slowly, Bi-Han shakes his head. Tomáš doesn't know why, but that small gesture of defeat makes him furious.

"What happened to not giving up?" He has to hold himself back from grabbing Bi-Han by the shoulders and shaking some sense into him. "You taught me that, remember? Whenever I practiced a difficult move and I couldn't get it right, I'd ask you to show me an easier one, but you always refused. You'd let me practice that one move a hundred times and then a hundred more until I perfected it. You didn't let me give up, so I won't let you."

He can feel his brother's gaze boring into his own. It's impossible for him to guess what Bi-Han is thinking. Tomáš doesn't know if he's just terrible at reading people or if his former grandmaster had always been such a difficult man to read.

"I see you haven't forgotten my teachings."

"You were a good teacher."

He means it. Sure, his brother had been strict, even more so than their father, and he had often lacked patience, but he had made up for that in other ways, always rewarding those who proved their resilience and discipline during training with praise and encouragement, never letting any of his disciples give up or fall behind. Even if his lessons had seemed harsh at times, they had always proven valuable later on.

For a while, they sit quietly without speaking. Tomáš doesn't mind. He can tell Bi-Han has nothing more to say and although he still has questions, he reminds himself to be patient. If he pushes too much, his brother might just shut him out again.

"I want to go back inside", Bi-Han tells him after a while.

Tomáš nods. His brother looks exhausted, he notices. It worries him that something as simple as walking is taking this much out of Bi-Han when he had easily been able to throw him into a wall just yesterday. He chooses not to ask. He knows how much his brother despises being fussed over.

Once they make it back to Bi-Han's quarters, Tomáš decides to open a window. Until now he hadn't even noticed how stale the air in the room had been. Besides, his older brother seems a little less pale now, so the fresh air must have been good for him.

"I should go and let you get some rest."

"Wait."

He stops.

"Before you leave... Bring me ink, paper and a seal."

Tomáš hesitates, slightly caught off guard by the request. He's not sure what Bi-Han needs these things for or why he's asking for them. He doubts his brother would tell him. Should he even be bringing him anything? Tomáš thinks back to what Liu Kang had told him. He knows Bi-Han is unstable, that he had tried to seek death before... But then again, there are much more lethal things to ask for than paper and ink. As he ponders over what to do, his gaze wanders over to the bowl of medicine. Of course, it's still full.

"No", he hears himself say.

"What?"

"I said no", Tomáš repeats.

Bi-Han scowls at him. "I demand you bring me–"

"You're not my grandmaster anymore. You can't demand anything of me", Tomáš says calmly. "How about we make a trade?"

"I already answered your stupid questions", Bi-Han snarls. "What more do you want from me?"

Instead of replying, Tomáš picks up the bowl of medicine and holds it out to his brother. "Drink this and I'll get those items for you."

"Again you disobey me?"

"You still want obedience? Don't think I forgot about what you did yesterday. I still haven't forgiven you for that. If you want a favor, simply asking for it won't be enough. You'll have to do me a favor too."

Bi-Han growls at him.

"If you're not willing to do it, surely whatever you intend to do with those things isn't so important." Tomáš nods to the bowl. "Drink or find someone else to ask."

He can tell Bi-Han is fuming. There's not a doubt in his mind that his brother would be strangling him right now if he still had enough strength left in him to do that. Fortunately for him, all Bi-Han can do is growl and mutter quiet complaints under his breath. Eventually, he takes the bowl of medicine and without breaking eye contact, he downs the contents of it in one single swig. Then he slams the bowl down so hard Tomáš can hear it crack. "There", he hisses. "Now get me what I want."

Tomáš fights back a smile as he turns around and leaves the room.

Even if just a little, he believes he managed to get through to Bi-Han today. For the first time since he left the Lin Kuei, he has a sliver of hope that things might change for the better. He doesn't know how, but he wants to believe they will. He's still not quite sure how to feel about what he had learned today, but at least he got Bi-Han to take his medicine. He decides to mark that down as a small victory as he heads to the library to find ink and paper.

-

Liu Kang misses his days at the Wu Shi academy. Lately, he often finds himself thinking back to them. He feels lost now, like a leaf at the mercy of a storm. It is odd to him that he still remembers the past so vividly, even after all this time... Being a clueless young novice, concerned only with how to keep his boastful friend Kung Lao out of trouble. The summer sun burning down onto his shoulders as he practices punches and kicks on a wooden training dummy. The laughter and jokes shared with his companions... He misses his old friendships. He misses those simpler times when he had mentors to look up to for guidance, when a bad decision merely brought him the punishment of sweeping the temple floors, not unspeakable ruin and disaster. Now his choices weigh so much heavier, each one determining the outcome of countless of lives. Each mistake a road paved to someone's demise. All his life, he had been prepared for this role. To one day take upon a task greater than anything a mortal soul should ever shoulder. He is the chosen one. But chosen what for? To watch history repeat?

"What good are you? What good are your godly powers if you can't save anyone?"

He does not know anymore. He had stood by as Kitana and Mileena had mourned their mother, as Kenshi had returned from his mission blinded once more, as Bi-Han had doomed himself following Havik into the realm of chaos... Each time, he had been powerless, unable to change the fates of those he had set out to save all those aeons ago when he first began with the creation of this timeline. His new era should have been peaceful... It was never meant to be like this.

For now, he sets his worries aside and knocks on the door to Bi-Han's quarters. As always, he receives no permission to come in and as always, he respectfully waits for a few seconds before entering regardless.

The former cryomancer greets him with the usual scowl. "You came. I didn't think you would."

"You called for me. Why would I not come?"

Bi-Han huffs. "Your current report to Sektor... Has it been sent out yet?"

Liu Kang shakes his head. "No, not yet. I wanted to wait for your... final decision first." He casts his eyes down and exhales slowly. "I don't understand you, Bi-Han. A few more months and you could have gone home. Now... I have to tell her you might never return."

"Don't worry, I have done that for you."

He looks up to see Bi-Han holding out a letter to him. "Have this sent to Sektor for me. As quickly as you can."

Hesitantly, Liu Kang takes the envelope. "It does not have to end like this, you know that."

"That remains my choice, not yours."

He doesn't try to argue back. They are past that point now. "I will make sure this letter reaches Sektor."

Bi-Han acknowledges his words with a nod.

"Have you told Tomáš?"

"That doesn't concern you."

"I have seen him earlier... He looked hopeful."

He gets no reaction and he's unable to read Bi-Han's expression. Minutes pass while neither of them speak.

"Is there anything else you need?", Liu Kang asks eventually.

"Without the treatment... How much longer can I live?"

"I cannot tell you. A few weeks... Maybe less." Most likely less, Liu Kang thinks, but he keeps that to himself.

"Good."

"The Arctikan Hailstone can still save your life."

Bi-Han shoots him a glare. "What do you want me to do? Crawl to my traitorous brother and beg him to grant me mercy? I'd rather burn in the deepest depths of the Netherrealm than to–"

"Enough, Bi-Han!" Liu Kang cuts him off sharply and a little louder than he had intended. He knows better than to let Bi-Han's words get to him, and yet he can't help it this time. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "You need rest. If there's nothing else you need from me, I will leave."

Bi-Han doesn't stop him.

Outside, Liu Kang takes a moment to calm down and debate what to do next. He's holding the letter Bi-Han wrote to Sektor. He doesn't open it. There's a voice in the back of his head that tells him he should. In case Bi-Han sent out instructions to the Lin Kuei, plans for another attack on the Shirai Ryu, more scheming... Instead, Liu Kang chooses to trust him. He knows Bi-Han is defeated.

His brothers, however, do not.

Even if he's wrong and Bi-Han ends up betraying him once more, Liu Kang still won't regret trusting him. With what he's about to do, it would only make them even.

Upon returning to his study, Liu Kang has Tomáš summoned before him. He doesn't have to wait for long until the Shirai Ryu's second in command arrives.

It pains him to watch Smoke's expression falter, the small seed of hope that never bloomed already wilting as he fills him in on his brother's condition. He hates to do this, to bring Tomáš pain and to go behind Bi-Han's back, but he wants to believe his once most trusted ally can still be saved, even from himself.

"I made him take the medicine today. I thought I was helping. You told me if I stayed–" Tomáš stops, his voice cracking.

Liu Kang places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You did your best, Tomáš. Right now, I need you to return home and speak to Kuai Liang. I fear that only the Arctikan Hailstone can save Bi-Han's life now."

Slowly, Tomas nods. "Kuai Liang told me he would search for it. He might have found it by now."

"Return as soon as you can. With the stone and with your brother, if he's willing to come."

"Kuai Liang won't want to see Bi-Han. I know him."

"Then the stone will be enough."

"What if Bi-Han still refuses to let you treat him?", Tomáš asks quietly. "Should we just... force him?"

"Restraining him is a last resort", Liu Kang explains. "I would rather not give him another reason to resent me. But I will do what I must for the sake of this timeline."

He knows Bi-Han won't forgive him. In all his years of being a god, Liu Kang had never felt so powerless.

-

No one is there to greet him when he returns. The gardens are so quiet, it's almost eerie.

It's the loneliest Tomáš has ever felt since the night he lost his family. Only back then, he had been given a new one. This time, he knows, he will lose whatever is left of that family too and then he will have nothing. The day is gray to fit his mood, dark rain clouds obscuring the sun and a cold wind blowing, making his teeth chatter as he hurries to get inside. If he had thought the Shirai Ryu's training grounds were quiet, the main building housing the grandmaster's office is as silent as a grave in comparison. Coming back here doesn't feel like coming home. He still puts on as much of a smile as he can muster, not wanting to worry Kuai Liang and Harumi.

Tomáš doesn't encounter anyone as he makes his way to Kuai Liang's office. He doesn't need to knock. The door stands open wide.

"Kuai Liang?"

At the sound of his voice, his brother looks up from the large stack of paperwork in front of him. "Tomáš. You're back. How did the mission go?"

Before Tomáš can respond, Kuai Liang's focus has already returned to the papers on his desk. He signs another mission report and sets it aside on a seperate stack next to the bigger one.

"There was no mission."

"Oh."

Tomáš waits to see if his brother has anything more to say. He doesn't.

"Where is everyone?", he asks.

"I've sent our recruits to Outworld", Kuai Liang replies as he gestures for him to sit down. "The Umgadi were generous enough to agree to show them around. The sooner they familiarize themselves with Outworld's dangers, the better."

"I see." Tomáš takes a seat across from his brother. "How have you been holding up?"

Kuai Liang sighs. "As you can see, I've been busy going through all these mission reports. Now that you're back, maybe you can help me look through some of them too."

"Of course, brother."

He reaches for the stack of papers, but his brother stops him by quickly placing his hand on top of the stack.

"What are you doing? You just came back and you haven't rested. You can help me with this later too, you know."

"Right."

Tomáš doesn't want to rest. His mind is racing, his thoughts wandering back to his stay at the fire temple. He feels guilty for leaving, the same way he had felt guilty a few days ago when he had left the Shirai Ryu after receiving Liu Kang's invitation. He knows that both his brothers need him. Kuai Liang cannot possibly shoulder the challenges and responsibilties of leading his new clan alone and it doesn't feel right to him that Bi-Han has no one by his side to help him through his recovery. One of his brothers is on his deathbed and the other drowns himself in work to avoid speaking about it. The family Tomáš had been so desperately trying to hold together is falling apart, leaving him behind in the abyss of it all, alone and with nothing. Bi-Han will have peace in death, the satisfaction of going out by no one else's hand but his own and Kuai Liang has Harumi, they will have offspring one day, their own family. Tomáš realizes that in the bitter war between his brothers, he will be the only one to lose.

"So what was it that Lord Liu Kang needed you for?", Kuai Liang finally asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

There it is, the question he had been dreading.

Tomáš clears his throat.

"We need to talk."

The serious undertone in his voice is enough to get Kuai Liang's attention once again. He looks exhausted, Tomáš notices, though that doesn't surprise him given the circumstances. Despite the initial difficulties, their new clan is growing faster than expected. Training the new recruits is taking a tall on all of them. On most days, sleep is hard to come by, even for him. He stays up late, helping Kuai Liang set up makeshift beds for the Shirai Ryu's newest members and by the time their work is finished, he can already see the pale light of a new day on the horizon. Sometimes, Tomáš wonders why Kuai Liang still stubbornly refuses to accept any of the help offered to him by their friends and allies. He doesn't understand what his brother is trying to prove.

"Is everything alright?"

Tomáš feels a pang of guilt in his stomach at the concern in Kuai Liang's voice. What he is about to say will undoubtedly upset his brother, he knows this, and yet he has no other choice. This is important to him. He wants to save Bi-Han's life. He wants to reunite his brothers. At the very least, he's determined to try.

"We need to talk", he repeats and more quietly he adds: "About Bi-Han."

Kuai Liang's expression hardens instantly. The concern gone, replaced with hatred. His grip on the pen tightens, turning his knuckles white. "I'd rather not be reminded of his existence."

Tomáš sighs. "I understand, but please, just hear me out."

He watches Kuai Liang's gaze return to the paperwork once more and knows he lost his grandmaster's interest by bringing up their estranged brother's name. Maybe he should have waited. He should have tried a more careful approach. He knows he should have... But he's tired. Walking on eggshels around Bi-Han for two days had been exhausting enough. He doesn't have the energy to continue doing it around Kuai Liang too.

"He's dying." Tomáš finally says.

"He's already dead to me."

Tomáš doesn't comment on his brother's harsh words. Instead, he watches Kuai Liang closely, desperately looking for a hint that he still cares, some sign of sadness or regret. To his disappointment, he finds none.

"Liu Kang is asking us to bring him the Arctikan Hailstone", Tomáš continues. "He believes it can still save Bi-Han."

Kuai Liang calmly puts the pen down, reaches for the cup of tea next to him and takes a sip. "I don't have it."

Tomáš clenches his jaw so hard it sends a spike of pain through his skull. "What do you mean? You've been searching for it for two years and you still haven't found it?"

"I had other responsibilties. Building this clan into what it is today. Helping with Raiden's training. Protecting Earthrealm."

"Lord Liu Kang told you to prioritize the search for the stone." Tomáš grips the armrests of his chair tighter. "We can still find it. Tell me where you left off and I can help."

Kuai Liang doesn't meet his eyes. "There was never a search, Tomáš."

"What?"

"You heard me."

All of a sudden, Tomáš feels the urge to scream, to grab the cup Kuai Liang is drinking from so smugly and shatter it into pieces. "What do you mean? Have you lost your mind? You betrayed Lord Liu Kang?"

"Betrayed him?" Kuai Liang slams his hand down on the table, nearly making Tomáš jump. "Who do you think I am? I agreed to search for the stone. Nothing more. I'll do it when the time is right. And then it will go to Hanzo."

Tomáš stares at Kuai Liang and finds another stranger looking back at him. Cold, unforgiving eyes, a face twisted with hatred and rage... It's like he's talking to another version of Bi-Han.

He swallows. "So you will just let our brother die?"

"As he did with father. It'll be a fitting end."

"If Bi-Han dies, we'll never learn why he didn't save father. Don't you want closure?"

"He let father die for the same reason he did this." Kuai Liang gestures to the angry red scar across his face. "He's insane. He would do anything for power."

"Even if that's true, he's still our brother. He's still family."

Kuai Liang glares. "I already have a family and he's no longer part of it."

"Am I?"

His brother's expression softens for a moment. "Of course you are. We're brothers, Tomáš. How can you doubt that?"

"Then why did you lie to me? You said you would find the Arctikan Hailstone. You lied and betrayed Lord Liu Kang." He pauses for a moment. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"You compare me to him? After everything he did to us? How can you still speak on his behalf?"

He protected me, Tomáš wants to say, but he knows that it would mean having to tell his brother about his nightmares and he doesn't want Kuai Liang to needlessly worry about him, even if he's furious at him right now.

"I'm not doing this for Bi-Han!" Tomáš jumps to his feet. "I'm doing this for you as well! If he dies, will you ever be able to forgive yourself? If you don't see him one last time, won't you regret it?"

For a second, a look of uncertainty passes over Kuai Liang's features, but it's already gone the next. "Why save him? So he can betray us again at the first chance he gets? Have we learned nothing?"

"That's not up to us to question! Lord Liu Kang has asked us to save him. Have you forgotten why we founded this clan? The Shirai Ryu are loyal to Lord Liu Kang... We built this clan to serve him and Earthrealm." Tomáš narrows his eyes. "Or have you lied about that too? Do the Shirai Ryu only exist for your vengeance?"

He had trusted his brother. He had trusted both his brothers and both of them had lied to him.

Kuai Liang shakes his head. "Look at you! Look at how we're arguing! This is what Bi-Han wanted. He placed these poisonous words in your mouth! He wants to divide us and weaken the Shirai Ryu. Can't you see that?"

"I don't need anyone to put words in my mouth!", Tomáš snaps. "You think so little of me? That I need others to think and speak for me? Is it because I'm your younger brother or because you think of me as a fool?"

"That's not what I meant, Tomáš. You need to calm down."

"I'll calm down when you agree to do your duty."

"What is going on in here?"

They both turn around at the sound of Harumi's voice. She stands in the doorway, holding a tray with teacups and small colorful cakes. "I could hear you two yelling from down the hallway." She sets the tray down on Kuai Liang's desk and turns to face them, crossing her arms. "What will our recruits think when they return to you two arguing like this?"

Tomáš knows she's right. The last thing they need is to demoralize their recruits, but he can't help being angry at Kuai Liang for lying to him, for how little he cares that his own flesh and blood is dying.

"Don't worry, Harumi", Kuai Liang responds. "Tomáš is tired. I'm sure he wants to retreat. Right, Tomáš?" His brother turns to look at him. "You've been gone for a few days and I know we're all under a lot of pressure. As your grandmaster, I won't hold it against you that you spoke out of line today. You're dismissed now."

Tomáš grits his teeth. He feels his hands trembling with rage, so he clenches them into fists. "I will retreat then. Grandmaster. Grandmistress." He bows stiffly, turns on his heel and storms out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. As he hears the sound of their voices behind him fade, he can feel the last bit of his hope die, extinguished like a candle by a sudden gust of wind.

[ginnysgraffiti]

Omgg more Patrick dad headcanons (Your such a good writer💝)

here we goooooo

PATRICK BATEMAN x yn.

head-canons:

he treats fatherhood like a competitive sport.

- the moment he finds out he’s going to be a father, patrick begins acting like it was his idea — as if he architected the entire situation through sheer force of will.

- “of course i’ll be a good father. have you seen me?”

- he immediately starts buying parenting books (which he only half reads) and critiques other parents for things he doesn’t actually understand.

- he also begins comparing his unborn child to others. “she’ll be taller. more refined. she won’t scream in public, that’s for sure honey.”

he is very good with infants…in a weird, eerie way (should you be worried?)

- he doesn’t coo. he doesn’t baby talk. he holds them upright like a rare art piece and murmurs things like: “you’re perfectly symmetrical. that’s rare. you should be grateful.”

- he’s rigidly gentle — never drops her, never forgets to support her neck — but he does check the bottle’s temperature with a laser thermometer.

- he gets furious if someone else asks to touch her or hold her. and he doesn’t let anyone else carry her for long. “you’re holding her wrong. give her back.”

he’s overly invested in baby aesthetics.

- patrick refuses to let his child wear anything with cartoon characters.

- her onesies are from niche european designers. her nursery looks like a high-end spa with vaguely scandinavian decor.

- “if it looks like it belongs in times square, it’s not entering the house.”

- he hand-picks her toys and makes sure they’re educational, beautifully designed, and bpa-free. he is deeply offended by plastic.

he is surprisingly effective at calming her down.

- his voice — cold, low, calm — is oddly soothing to babies. he never raises it, never gets flustered.

- when she cries, he doesn’t panic — he studies. observes. measures the intensity and pattern like a stock analyst. “it’s the diaper. or she hates the lewis and the news. babe, try with robert palmer.”

- and 85% of the time…he’s right. okay, that’s weird.

as she grows, he becomes quietly, obsessively attached.

- he starts adjusting his routine around her nap times. cancels dinner reservations he once considered untouchable.

if she draws on the wall with a crayon, he stares at it for a long time — not angry, just…processing.“she’s not messy. she’s expressing a spatial curiosity.”

- he doesn’t say “i love you” often. but he’ll correct anyone who underestimates her. brutally. “she’s not ‘cute.’ she’s intelligent. say what you mean.”

he will not tolerate poor parenting from others.

- if someone at the park is scrolling their phone while their child cries, patrick’s jaw tightens like he’s going to commit a felony.

- he doesn’t intervene, but he judges. aggressively.

- if someone tries to give his child candy or touch her without asking, he steps between them and says, “do i know you?” the tone? borderline homicidal.

he’s deeply afraid of doing something wrong — so he overcorrects.

- when she falls and scrapes her knee, he freezes. his instinct isn’t to soothe. it’s to fix. to control.

- “we’re buying knee pads. she’s never going outside without them again.”

“but honey-“

“you heard me.”

- if she tells him she’s scared of the dark, he installs smart lights. $2,000 worth. they change color and respond to her voice. does that even exists in the 80s?

- he doesn’t understand that being there matters more than solving everything. but he’s trying. in his own, sharp-edged way.

but there are moments — quiet, unscripted ones — where he surprises you.

- she falls asleep on his chest while he’s still in his pressed shirt and tie, and instead of moving, he stays absolutely still for an hour.

- he begins humming when he gives her baths — classical piano pieces, old showtunes, sometimes prince.

- one night, she calls him “daddy” in a way that’s clearly unrehearsed — not prompted, not imitated. just genuine.

- he doesn’t say anything about it. but he doesn’t look at you the same for days. like you built a person who changed him. and he can’t undo it.

[littlelamy]

Omg smut request……Shy reader x Rafe with inspo from a scene from Queer with the eye contact. He’s had it with her being insecure how she looks when they are having sex or not letting him see her face (to him she’s the most beautiful woman to exist). She always some what hides it in sneaky ways…say laying her head by his shoulder or whatever. Not this time! Rafe holding her face to his and lots of eye contact and praise…..PLZZZ

parings: rafe cameron x shy!reader

warnings: 18+, smut

you lay next to rafe, heart pounding, nerves on edge as his fingers traced gentle patterns along your bare shoulder. he had this way of making you feel safe, even when your insecurities whispered their usual doubts.

tonight, though, rafe wasn’t going to let those whispers win.

his hand moved to your chin, tilting your face toward him. "look at me," he said softly, his voice low but firm. you hesitated, eyes flickering away for a second, but he didn’t let you go. his thumb brushed over your cheek, a touch so tender it made your chest tighten.

"baby, please. i want to see you."

the weight of his gaze felt like a warm blanket, comforting yet intense. you swallowed hard, your instinct to shy away creeping in. whenever you fucked, you’d find ways to hide, pressing your face into his shoulder, burying your head in the pillow—anything to avoid being fully seen. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, it was that the voice in your head was louder, telling you not to be too much, not to show too much.

rafe’s other hand slid along your waist, pulling you closer. "why do you always hide from me?" he asked, his tone gentle but filled with a quiet resolve. "you know you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, right?"

your breath hitched, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. you wanted to believe him, but the years of self-doubt were hard to shake. "i just…" you started, your voice trailing off as you tried to find the words.

"no," rafe cut in softly, shaking his head. "not this time." his thumb brushed over your lips, the pad of it lingering there. "i want you to see what I see. feel what I feel when I look at you."

slowly, reluctantly, you let your eyes meet his. the intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip. it was like he was looking straight into your soul, stripping away every layer of doubt and fear.

"there she is," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "my gorgeous girl."

your cheeks flushed, but rafe didn’t let you look away. his fingers threaded through your hair, holding you in place as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "you have no idea how crazy you make me," he whispered. "i love every part of you. every curve, every freckle. everything."

his words washed over you, a soothing balm to the raw vulnerability you felt. his hands slid down to your hips, guiding you onto your back as he hovered above you. his eyes never left yours, their blue depths filled with a mixture of love and desire that made your pulse race.

"keep looking at me," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

your body responded before your mind could catch up, your thighs parting to welcome him as his hand caressed up your side, his thumb brushing the swell of your breast. you bit your lip, the instinct to look away creeping back in, but rafe’s hand was quick, cupping your face, guiding your gaze back to his.

"don’t hide from me, baby," he whispered. "i want all of you. i need all of you."

his cock, thick and hard, pressed against your slick entrance, the heat of him making your breath hitch. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in a rhythm that was slow, deliberate. each thrust was a conversation, each moan a promise.

rafe's lips found yours again, softer this time, a kiss that spoke of reverence and worship. his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes locked with yours as he slid deeper, his breath mingling with yours.

"fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with emotion. "you’re so perfect. God, i love you."

the way he said it, like a prayer, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, made your heart swell. the insecurities that had loomed over you began to melt away, replaced by the warmth of his love, his unwavering gaze that held you captive in the best way.

as the tension built, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding that sweet spot that made you arch beneath him, your cries filling the room. rafe’s eyes never left yours, even as you both tumbled over the edge together, the pleasure crashing over you like a wave, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you.

when it was over, he stayed close, his hand gently stroking your hair, his lips brushing against your temple. "you’re everything to me," he murmured. "don’t ever forget that."

you nestled into his chest, your heart full, your body spent, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe him.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @heywardsdoll

[rafecameronssl4t]

Chosen || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (love island au)

Summary: (lil backstory) you and Rafe have been a couple since day one and are pretty closed off but a new bombshell has come and chose Rafe for a date and now it’s time for her to choose who she wants to couple up with.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2,070

A/n: Inspired by the whole ordeal between rob liv and leah in love island usa lol SECOND PART IS HERE

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The villa was buzzing with the usual pre-recoupling jitters, and as you sat at your vanity, carefully applying the final touches of makeup, you heard Rafe’s voice echo down the hallway. “Babe,” he called out, his tone relaxed yet filled with that casual affection you’d grown to love. “Yeah, I’m in here!” you responded, smiling to yourself.

Through the mirror, you caught the familiar image of him entering, his sandy-blonde hair tousled, sun-kissed skin accentuating the sharp angles of his face. Your eyes met in the mirror, and the edges of his mouth softened into a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping closer and bending down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make you feel like he was truly checking in. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you chuckled, meeting his eyes in the mirror with a playful glint. He watched your reflection intently, as if trying to read your every expression.

“Just making sure,” he murmured, pulling a chair up beside yours. He settled in, crossing his arms, his gaze steady as he watched you apply the last bit of powder. You raised an eyebrow, feigning a casual tone. “Why? Should I be worried? Is there something you’re not telling me about your date with Kayla?” You smirked, trying to keep it light, but deep down, you were fishing for any reassurance you could get.

His hand found its way to your thigh, his grip warm and reassuring as his thumb brushed soothing circles. “No, of course not,” he said, his tone calm yet firm. “I told you everything, and, honestly, I don’t think she’ll pick me. We don’t have that spark—you and I do, though, yeah?” His eyes held yours, his expression open and genuine.

His gaze was steady, his smile reassuring, and despite the flicker of insecurity, you let out a slow breath, his words sinking in and soothing the lingering doubts in the back of your mind. “Okay,” you said finally, a genuine smile breaking through as he chuckled.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” he said, leaning in to press a series of soft kisses along your bare shoulder making you giggle, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that he seemed to crave as he pulled back, grinning. “What are you wearing tonight?” he asked, scanning the room with an approving gaze as his eyes landed on the green dress you’d laid out on the armchair nearby.

“That one.” You nodded toward the dress, and he hummed, his smile widening in approval. “Good choice. It’s gonna drive the others crazy.” “Glad you think so,” you replied, warmth creeping into your cheeks as you noticed the way he looked at you—like you were the only person who existed.

“Well, I’ll let you get ready,” he said, standing up and moving behind you. Through the mirror, you caught yourself staring. How could you not when Rafe looked so... edible. He met your gaze in the mirror, catching your look, and smirked. “Like what you see, Mrs. Cameron?” he teased, his voice dropping to a playful, almost dangerous tone that made you laugh.

“Very much,” you replied, tilting your head back as he leaned down, catching your lips in a kiss that was both soft and full of promise, a reminder of the bond that the two of you had since day one. But before things could get too heated, you gently placed a hand on his jaw, pushing him back with a giggle.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” he said, chuckling as he stepped back. Before he could leave, the door opened, and you both turned to see Kayla enter, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Rafe. “Hey,” Rafe greeted her casually, his tone polite but distant. You watched them exchange brief smiles before looking away, busying yourself with your lip gloss as Kayla approached her drawers.

“Hey, Y/n,” she greeted you brightly, her tone friendly as she settled beside you. “Hey,” you replied with a polite smile. “Excited for tonight?” “Oh, definitely!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m so ready to sleep next to someone again; it’s been way too long.” She giggled, and you chuckled in response, keeping the mood light even as you fought off a pang of unease.

“Do you know who you’re choosing?” you asked, carefully applying your lip gloss as she fiddled with something in her drawer. She nodded confidently, her fingers tapping lightly as she glanced at you with a knowing smile. “Uh-huh. I knew who I was gonna pick the second I walked in here.”

You nodded, hoping your expression didn’t betray the subtle tightening in your chest. It was in these little moments that the villa’s intensity hit, the constant swirl of emotions and unspoken fears. But as you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, you reminded yourself of the quiet confidence in Rafe’s words, of the unspoken bond you’d built.

~

The night air felt thick with tension as everyone gathered around the firepit, the familiar crackling flames casting flickering shadows across the group. You sat beside Rafe, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. The warmth of his touch had been a quiet comfort, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along your skin—a small reassurance that whatever happened tonight, he was there.

But as Kayla’s voice broke through the murmur of anticipation, her words twisted the air around you, each one slicing deeper than the last. "I'm coupling up with this person because, from the moment we started talking, I definitely sensed that we had potential and that there was a spark there that I want to explore," Kayla said, her tone confident and unwavering as her gaze locked on the group.

Your eyes dropped to the flames, heart pounding, silently willing her words to be about someone else. When she finally spoke his name, “The person I want to couple up with is… Rafe,” the world seemed to freeze. Your breath hitched, and a wave of shock washed over you, cold and biting, despite the warmth of the firepit. Around you, a few gasps broke the silence, the girls’ faces mirroring the same surprise that you felt.

Your eyes darted to Kayla, disbelief clouding your expression, and then turned to Rafe, who sat motionless beside you, his face an unreadable mask as he stared blankly at the ground. “Really? Nothing to worry about?” you said, your voice low but sharp, brushing his arm off your shoulder. Anger surged through you, raw and uncontainable. You’d trusted him, taken his reassurances at face value.

And now, every promise felt like it had shattered between you. Rafe’s shoulders slumped slightly as he raked a hand through his hair, a long sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head. “Rafe, you look surprised at Kayla's decision,” the host, Sophie commented , looking at him expectantly. He hesitated, his gaze finally flickering up to meet Kayla’s. “Yeah, uh—I don’t know what to say, really,” he mumbled, the frown deepening across his face.

“I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t really interested,” he shrugged, but his words felt hollow to you, hanging in the tense air between him and Kayla. Kayla’s eyes flashed with indignation, and she crossed her arms, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Wow, yeah—that’s not how I felt during our date,” she said with a pointed look, and you felt a pang of betrayal twist in your stomach as her words settled over you.

The whole night, the small reassurances Rafe had given you, the gestures, the closeness—it all felt tainted. Sophie's voice cuts through, pulling you from the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Well, Kayla, if you could switch places with Y/n… and Y/n, if you could come stand beside me.” Standing, you avoided looking at Rafe or Kayla, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You forced yourself to breathe as you stepped away from the firepit, feeling the collective gaze of the group on you. “Y/n, you are now single, which leaves you vulnerable here on Love Island,” Sophie announced. You nodded slowly, your jaw tight as you bit down on your bottom lip, desperately holding back the flood of emotions welling inside you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe looking anywhere but at you, his gaze flickering across the ground as if trying to distance himself from the situation. The sense of betrayal weighed heavily on you, every unspoken word thickening the air between you. As soon as Sophie left, the girls immediately swarmed around you, their arms linking through yours as they ushered you away from the firepit and into the makeup room.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to Sofia, who gave you a sympathetic squeeze. “Honestly, you deserve so much better than that,” she whispered, her hand rubbing comforting circles on your back.

~

Rafe’s voice was soft but strained as he appeared behind you, his presence looming uncertainly. “Can we please talk?” His tone was laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing in him. His gaze drifted to your face, catching the redness around your eyes, the remnants of tears. You sighed, dabbing away the traces of mascara that had smudged beneath your eyes.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about, Rafe.” You shrugged, brushing him off as you tried to compose yourself. “Y/n, please,” he insisted, the desperation in his voice tugging at the edges of your anger. “I swear to god, I was making it crystal clear that I wasn’t interested. I told her, over and over, that I was in a happy situation with you.”

You felt the flicker of an ache under your ribs, a small crack in the wall you’d put up. “Then why, Rafe?” Your voice rose, bitterness spilling over. “Why did she pick you? She wouldn’t have done that out of the blue if she didn’t think there was something real, something genuine, between you two.” Your words struck him, and he took a small step back, almost flinching.

He opened his mouth as if to argue but stopped, as if suddenly unsure. “I don’t know why she chose me,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But you have to believe me, Y/n. None of this meant anything to me—she doesn’t mean anything to me.” He looked at you, and for a split second, you caught something raw, almost pleading, in his expression.

But the anger and the hurt still clouded your heart. You shook your head, exhaustion coating your words. “I’m just… I’m really tired, Rafe. I just want to go to bed.” You didn’t meet his eyes, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. He paused, the silence stretching painfully between you both. “Right. Good night, then,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a sadness that lingered in the air as he turned and left.

By the time you walked into the bedroom, Sofia was already there, her arms opening for you without a word. You melted into her embrace, the comfort of her support soothing your frazzled nerves. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, squeezing you tightly before you finally pulled away, giving her a small, grateful smile.

As you made your way to your bed, your gaze involuntarily flickered to Kayla’s. She lay there, already settled in, Rafe’s pillow on the other side, and it made your stomach churn. You slipped into bed, laying in the center, feeling an aching emptiness beside you. Rafe should have been there. His warmth, his steady breathing as you fell asleep, had been a constant.

Then, as if on cue Rafe walked into the room. His eyes skimmed over you for a second before he headed toward Kayla’s bed. The air was thick with unspoken words, unacknowledged feelings, and for a moment, you wanted to reach out, to say something, but you held back, the bitterness fresh in your chest. Rafe leaned over, whispering something to Kayla, though you couldn’t make out the words.

Then, without warning, he grabbed his pillow, stepping away from her bed and heading out of the room. You caught Sofia’s gaze across the dimly lit space, her knowing look meeting your own. She offered a small smile of understanding, and you returned it faintly before letting your eyes drift shut, hoping sleep would bring a break from all the emotions.

next

[hynnx22]

˚✧₊⁎Stubborn Like a Puppy ⁺˳✧༚

A/n:none

Warning:fluff,none

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:* *･゜ﾟ･

Alucard had always been known for his elegance, his strength, and his unshakable demeanor. But if there was one thing that Y/N had learned about him, it was that he could be ridiculously stubborn over the smallest things.

It all started with something trivial—she couldn’t even remember how the argument had escalated. Perhaps it was about him over-exerting himself during training, or maybe it was the way he dismissed her concern with that infuriatingly calm tone of his. Either way, Alucard had decided he was right, and instead of talking it out, he had chosen to brood in silence for the entire day.

He ignored her completely—not in a cruel way, but in a way that was so obviously petty. He would walk past her with his nose slightly upturned, his golden eyes flicking away just as she tried to meet them. If she spoke, he’d respond with a hum or a brief nod, nothing more. Even when they sat across from each other at dinner, he barely acknowledged her existence, quietly eating as if he was the most dignified and righteous being in the world.

And honestly? Y/N found it adorable.

There was something undeniably cute about the way Alucard’s stubbornness manifested—his usual gracefulness replaced by a sulky, almost childish determination to prove his point. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed, and every time she so much as giggled, his ears twitched in the faintest hint of frustration.

She had tried to hold out, to match his stubbornness with her own, but how could she stay mad at him when he was this precious?

With a soft sigh, she finally decided to be the bigger person.

She approached him in his study, where he sat reading by candlelight, pretending to be engrossed in whatever ancient text lay before him. Y/N stepped closer, watching as he stubbornly refused to look up, his golden eyes fixed on the pages despite the fact that he hadn’t turned one in several minutes.

With a smirk, she leaned down, resting her arms on the desk, her face just inches from his. “Are you really going to ignore me all night?”

Silence.

She reached out and gently brushed a strand of his golden hair behind his ear, watching as his jaw tensed slightly. “Alucard,” she cooed, her voice laced with teasing affection, “you’re so cute when you’re being stubborn.”

That finally made him react. His eyes flicked up, narrowing just a fraction. “I am not being cute,” he muttered, the faintest pout tugging at his lips.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and before he could turn away again, she cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Alucard exhaled slowly, his pride visibly warring with the desire to just melt into her touch. After a long pause, he finally gave in, leaning ever so slightly into her hands. “You’re impossible,” he murmured.

“And you’re adorable,” she countered, brushing her thumb over his cheek.

A long silence stretched between them before, finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upward in reluctant amusement. He sighed, closing his book and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. “You win,” he admitted against her shoulder, his voice muffled.

Y/N grinned, pressing another kiss to his temple. “Of course, I do. Now, let’s go to bed, you stubborn little puppy.”

Alucard groaned, but the way his arms tightened around her betrayed how much he loved her teasing—no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

[neptunsx]

When the Truth Texts Back | Y.JW

⤷ genre: angst.

⤷ synopsis: jungwon as your boyfriend who cheated on you.

Jungwon was always the one everyone liked.

He didn’t have to try hard. He just existed, and people followed. Girls at school called him dreamy. He had that quiet, magnetic presence, kind of mysterious, always a little hard to read. He wasn’t loud like the other boys, but he was confident. When he spoke, people listened. And when he smiled, people melted.

And somehow… he chose me.

At first, it felt unreal. I’d watch girls glance at him when we were out and I’d think, He’s mine. He picked me. That kind of pride, stupid and sweet, it makes you ignore the little things. Like the way he didn’t always introduce me to people when they came up to talk to him. Or how he’d act cold in public, like affection was something to be hidden, something embarrassing.

I told myself he was just private. That not everyone loves loudly.

But I loved him loudly. And for a while, he let me.

He’d kiss my wrist when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, he’d give me expensive gifts, drive me home…all the things that guys do that make you think, “he is in love with me.”

And when we were good, we were so good.

But when we weren’t? It was like walking on glass barefoot. No blood yet, but you knew it was coming.

He didn’t like it when I went out without telling him. Didn’t like my guy friends, even if he’d met them. If I took too long to respond, he’d go quiet. Passive aggressive. Make jokes that didn’t feel like jokes.

But when I brought it up? He’d make me feel like I was crazy.

“I’m just protective, baby.” he’d whisper into my hair. “I can’t help it. You’re mine.”

At first, I liked that possessiveness. It made me feel wanted. Needed. Like someone couldn’t bear to lose me.

I didn’t realize it meant he didn’t trust me. Maybe because he also didn’t trust himself.

One evening, we were curled up in his room, his head on my shoulder as he scrolled on his phone. He was tired. I could tell by the way his eyes fluttered shut every now and then. Eventually, he dozed off, phone still in his hand, screen dimming and lighting up again with notifications.

That’s when I saw her name.

A girl I didn’t know. Minseo.

Curiosity wasn't the reason I picked up his phone. Instinct was. You know that gut feeling? The one you can’t explain? That was it.

I tapped into the messages. The thread was brief. Too brief.

Minseo: Let's meet near campus? You’re free this weekend right? Jungwon: Yeah, let's catch up. It's been forever.

That’s where it started. But I knew that wasn’t the beginning. I could tell by the way the tone was already familiar. Comfortable. Like they’d been talking for days, maybe weeks.

He had deleted the rest.

I put the phone down and sat there in silence, heart pounding like I had just stolen something. It didn’t make sense. He had nothing to hide… right?

Then why hide it?

I asked him about it the next day. Softly. Carefully.

“Who’s Minseo?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t panic. Just looked at me with those unreadable eyes and said, “She’s just a friend. From university. Haven’t seen her in ages.”

“That’s cool...” I said. “Why’d you delete your messages with her?”

His smile faltered. Barely. But I caught it.

“I knew you’d overthink it. It’s nothing. I didn’t want to deal with a fight over nothing.”

“But if it’s nothing...” I said, voice tightening, “why would I be mad?”

He didn’t answer.

“If I did that” I continued, “if I deleted messages with some guy and told you we were just ‘catching up,’ you’d lose your mind.”

Still no answer. Just a long, frustrated sigh and, “God, Y/N, can you not make this into a thing?”

That night, I cried in the shower so he wouldn’t hear. I told myself I was being dramatic. That love requires trust. That he hadn’t done anything.

But something inside me already knew. I just didn’t have proof yet.

The days after were weird. Off-balance.

Some moments, he was clingy, more than usual. Texting me out of nowhere. Showing up to my place with snacks and saying he missed me. Kissing me like he was trying to prove something.

Other moments, he was cold. Distant. Taking hours to reply. Cancelling on me. Picking fights over nothing.

I was dizzy from it. Tired. I couldn’t tell which version of him I’d get.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl. That message thread. That missing conversation.

So one night, when I couldn’t sleep and the doubt was louder than my own heartbeat, I found her on Instagram. I stared at her profile for a long time, fingers shaking.

And then I typed:

“Hi, I know this is random but… I’m Jungwon’s girlfriend. I know you two went out and I just wanted to ask if anything happened between you two. I’m not trying to cause drama, I just want to be sure.”

She replied the next afternoon.

“Wait, what? You’re still dating him?” “He told me you guys broke up.” “I’m really sorry, but yeah… we hooked up.”

I dropped my phone. Literally dropped it. My hands went numb. I read her message over and over, as if I could force the meaning to change.

He told her we broke up.

And then he slept with her.

My vision blurred. I forgot how to breathe. I couldn’t even cry, my body just kind of froze.

He lied. He cheated. And then he came back to me like nothing happened.

I didn’t sleep the night I found out.

Even after the tears dried and the anger settled into something quieter, heavier. I just laid there, staring at the ceiling. Cold, silent, replaying everything he ever said to me. Every “I love you,” every “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

He did.

And worse? He planned to keep it from me. To hold my hand, to kiss me, to come over my house, sit on my bed and have sex with me like nothing ever happened.

I stared at his name in my messages for a long time.

Then I typed:

“Come by my place. I need to talk to you.”

It was short. Direct. No emojis. No “baby.” No “please.”

He replied fast.

“On my way.”

Ten minutes later, I heard the quiet rumble of his car pull up outside. The same car we used to sit in for hours, listening to songs and eating food. The car we kissed in after our first real date. The car where he whispered, “I think I’m falling for you.”

I stepped outside. The air was still. Almost too quiet, like the world was holding its breath.

Jungwon was in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel. When he saw me, he smiled softly…nervously.

I opened the door and slid in without a word.

“Hey.” he said, voice soft. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer right away. Just stared out the windshield. My hands were clenched in my lap, nails digging into my skin. My voice came out low. Even.

“I talked to her.”

His expression froze.

“Minseo.” I added, turning to look at him. “I texted her. Just to be sure.”

Silence.

“She said you told her we broke up.” I swallowed. “And then you slept with her.”

He stared at the steering wheel like maybe if he didn’t look at me, it wouldn’t be real.

His jaw tightened. “I… I didn’t think you’d find out.”

I laughed under my breath. It wasn’t funny. It was the saddest sound I’d ever made. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I’m sorry, I-” he said quickly, finally turning to me. “Y/N, it just happened. I didn’t—she didn’t mean anything, I swear—”

“But I did!”

He stopped.

“I meant everything to you! That’s what you told me! That’s what you kept saying while you were lying to me, touching me like nothing happened!”

“I didn’t want to lose you.” he said, and his voice cracked.

“You did lose me!” I yelled. “The second you made that choice!”

Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. Not in front of him. Not again.

“I loved you Jungwon.” I said. “So much. And you broke me.”

“I can fix it.” he said, reaching for my hand. “Don’t give up on me, please—”

I pulled away.

“No. You don’t get to fix it. You made this mess. And now you have to live with it.”

His jaw clenched, frustration flashing across his face. “You act like I’m the only one who messed up.”

I turned slowly. “What did you just say?”

“You’re not perfect either.” he snapped, voice rising. “You always doubted me. Always assumed the worst. Do you know how exhausting that was?”

My eyebrows shot up. “You lied to me. Cheated on me. And now you're trying to flip it on me because I didn’t trust you enough? You made me feel crazy for things you were actually doing.”

He looked away, gripping the steering wheel like it could anchor him. “If you weren’t so distant lately, so cold- maybe I wouldn’t have…”

I let out a sharp breath. “I was distant?! All the times I texted you, called you, trying to ask you to go out or come over and you were GHOSTING me for HOURS, or cancelling our plans to, who knows, go out with your new slut? And now it’s my fault you couldn’t keep it in your pants?”

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“You meant exactly what you said.” I cut in, voice shaking with anger. “You wanted a reason to justify it. And instead of talking to me, you ran to someone else and lied about us to get what you wanted.”

His silence was loud. Heavy. And telling.

I reached for the door handle.

“I hope she was worth it.” I said, stepping out of the car and slamming the door.

He called my name once, soft and broken, but I didn’t turn around.

I walked back inside.

And I didn’t look back.

I don’t know how long it’ll take for this to stop hurting. But I know it will.

Because the version of him I loved doesn’t exist anymore.

Or maybe it never did.

© NEPTUNSX, 2025 / do not copy or repost.

[theballadofharkness]

Sickbed

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: While Agatha takes care of you through a particularly nasty bout of illness, you begin to notice that maybe her hovering might be about something deeper…

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Next uploads will be some part 2’s but for now here is some good old fashioned hurt/comfort! 🪻💜

The house was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the hum of the wind outside. Agatha was sitting on the couch, as she had been for the past few hours, watching movies she was absolutely horrified you admitted you’d never got round to watching- you were too sick to respond to her shocked ‘what self respecting lesbian hadn't seen Mulholland Drive’ quip- while absently running a hand through your hair.

You hadn’t been feeling yourself for the past few days. It started with a headache, then a sore throat, and before you knew it, you were burning up with a fever that wouldn’t let up. Agatha, ever the attentive lover, had been by your side every moment, her sharp eyes watching your every move, her fingers always brushing against you, as if to reassure herself that you were still there, still alive.

It wasn't unusual for Agatha to be affectionate, to hold you close or kiss your temple just because. But today... today she was different. She hovered. She wouldn't let you out of her sight, and every time you stirred in bed, she'd be there, pulling you back to her chest, smoothing your hair with tender hands, or bringing you water with a look in her eyes that made you feel like you were the most precious thing in her world.

You were too tired to question it. Besides, you didn't mind. Her touch was a comfort.

"How are you feeling, love?" Agatha asked softly for the tenth time that afternoon, her voice warm like honey.

You blinked, trying to focus on her. The world felt fuzzy, as if you were existing on the edge of it, but you managed a small smile. "Better... I think. Still a bit... out of it."

She gave you a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes in return but didn’t stop the constant stream of affection. Her hand, which had been gently rubbing your back, now found its way to your cheek, her fingers cool against your skin. You leaned into her touch instinctively.

"Do you need anything? I can make you some tea, or get you something to eat," she said, her voice a little more urgent now, though she tried to mask it. Her usual tone had been replaced with something more desperate.

You shook your head. "No... no food. Just... stay with me a bit longer."

She nodded immediately, her lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before she resumed her position, the two of you cocooned in the warmth of the living room, the flickering light from the TV the only source of brightness. Agatha’s hand didn’t leave your body, and you realised then that, though it had always been natural for her to touch you, now she was holding you in a way that made you feel as though she was afraid to let go.

~

Agatha had cancelled all her plans for the day, even with Billy, which was a rare move for her. Normally, she’d balance her life as a busy witch and mentor with her life as a loving, though slightly chaotic, partner, but today nothing mattered more than you.

You were nestled under the thick, knitted blanket in the living room, your head resting on the soft cushions. The fever was still hanging around, making you feel weak and out of sorts. But Agatha? She wasn’t going anywhere. She hadn’t left your side since the morning, even if it meant putting aside everything else.

She hovered like a protective shadow, her steps light as she moved around the house, always checking on you, always within arm’s reach. Even when you’d tried to push her to go out when she’d mentioned her plans with Billy, she’d just shaken her head, the look in her eyes leaving no room for argument.

"I’ll just nap, love. You go. You love your mentor sessions with Billy. I’ll be fine," you had insisted earlier, your voice a little weaker than you liked.

Agatha’s eyes darkened, a glint of stubbornness flashing in them. "No," she’d said, firmly. "I’m staying right here with you."

You hadn’t pressed it further. Agatha had always been fiercely protective, and when she decided on something, it was impossible to change her mind.

Now, she was gently leaning over you, her fingers softly brushing your hair away from your face as she crouched beside the couch. "You’re so warm, darling," she said, her voice laced with concern. "But we need to get you feeling better. Stand up baby, I’m going to wash your hair for you."

You blinked lazily, a soft, appreciative smile on your lips. "You really don’t have to, Agatha," you murmured, your voice barely audible. You hated feeling so weak, but she didn’t seem to care. You were her priority now, and that was all she wanted.

"I want to," she said, her tone both soothing and insistent. "Come on, love, let me help."

With a softness that belied her usual strength, Agatha helped you sit up, carefully guiding you to the bathroom. She ran a warm bath, the scent of lavender filling the air, and when she turned back to you, her hands were already gentle as she helped you out of your clothes, her movements smooth and considerate. You felt yourself relax under her touch despite the discomfort of being unwell, comforted by the familiar sound of her voice and the feeling of her hands on your naked flesh.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got you," she murmured, coaxing you into the tub with her usual mixture of care and quiet dominance. She helped you settle into the warm water, her hands running through your damp hair with such tenderness that you couldn’t help but close your eyes.

You let out a small sigh, the soothing feel of her hands massaging your scalp pulling you further into relaxation. You were too weak to do anything on your own, and Agatha seemed to revel in the opportunity to care for you in this way, a soft hum escaping her lips as she washed your hair.

"You deserve to be spoiled, you know that?" she said, her voice a soft whisper as she rinsed your hair, fingers gently running through the strands. "I’ve been waiting for an excuse to bathe you."

You chuckled lightly, though it was more a rasp than anything. "I’m hardly in any condition to argue, am I?"

Agatha's lips curled into a smile. "Exactly. So let me do this for you, love."

When she finished, she carefully helped you out of the bath and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, her hands never leaving you for even a moment. She dried you off gently, as if you might break, then helped you slip into your softest, coziest pyjamas—ones she knew you loved. She fussed over your comfort, pulling the blanket up around you when she noticed a slight shiver, her fingers brushing the side of your face tenderly.

Once you were settled back on the couch, your favourite blanket tucked around your shoulders, Agatha sat down beside you, her eyes scanning the TV for something she knew you’d enjoy. You raised a brow.

"Are you really going to let me watch this crap?" you asked, referring to the mindless reality TV show you had a guilty pleasure for, one that Agatha always scoffed at whenever it was on.

Her lips quirked into a small smile. "I’m staying here with you," she said, her voice soft but firm. "And you’re watching whatever the hell you want. I’m not going anywhere."

You knew her well enough to recognise the finality in her tone. It wasn’t a request; it was a statement of fact. You chuckled softly, giving in, and the two of you settled in to watch the ridiculous drama unfold on screen. You barely even noticed the time slipping by. Agatha’s fingers gently stroked your hair, her presence a constant reassurance.

Eventually, when you started drifting in and out of sleep, Agatha gathered you up in her arms and took you to bed, tucking you into her side as she watched you sleep, her lips occasionally brushing against your forehead.

“When did you take me to bed?” You yawned as you were awoken by Senõr Scratchy jumping onto the bed to sleep alongside his moms.

"Rest, darling. You’ve been through a lot. Let me take care of you."

You smiled lazily, your eyelids heavy. "I think you already are, love."

Agatha gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, her voice low and reassuring. "Always."

~

As the days passed, her behaviour only intensified. The fever was getting worse, your body too weak to fight it off. Agatha refused to leave your side, even when she had business to attend to. She’d dismiss it with a wave of her hand, muttering something about ‘not being important’ when she turned her attention back to you.

You had always known Agatha was deeply passionate, but this new level of care unsettled you. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—it was just that something in her seemed different. She was more possessive, more protective, and at times, you thought she might just burst if she didn’t get to hold you in her arms.

One afternoon, as you lay on the bed, sweat beading on your forehead, Agatha came in with a damp cloth, wiping your face with it as if you were something fragile—something she was terrified of breaking.

"I know you hate when I do this," Agatha murmured, her fingers cool against your heated skin, "but you really need to cool down."

You smiled weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t hate it... just... not used to Nurse Agatha… hey maybe we should buy you a little outfit hmm? Really fulfill the fantasy." You tried to keep bringing up her hovering light.

Agatha let out a short, humourless laugh. "I suppose it’s... a side of me I’ve kept hidden for too long. You mean so much to me, love. I... I don’t want to lose you."

Her voice cracked on the last words, and it was then you realised, really realised, that this wasn’t just about you being sick. There was something deeper, something darker in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place, but you knew it was there.

There was something in the way she touched you, something that felt less like affection and more like a fear of losing you. She was, after all, no stranger to loss. You had heard her speak of her past, of her long and storied life, though she rarely ever went into specifics. You knew of her son, Nicky, the boy she had lost centuries ago when he was only a young child. The pain of that loss still lingered in Agatha’s eyes, though she rarely spoke of him. Every now and then, her expression would turn wistful, a soft sadness clouding her features for a brief moment, but she would always push it aside, as though brushing the memory away.

You had never pried. You knew it was a wound that would always run deep, but now, as you lay in bed, feverish and weak, you began to wonder if that same pain had resurfaced. Her obsessive care over you, her constant need to keep you in her arms, was unsettling, though you couldn’t deny that it felt like love. Still, something about it felt… different.

You hadn’t realised how bad it had gotten until one evening, when you turned to her, lying in bed and watching her pretending to read a book, though her eyes kept darting to you every few seconds, checking that you were still breathing. Her concern was almost palpable, and the flickering of fear in her gaze didn’t escape you.

"Agatha," you murmured, your voice soft but steady, "I’m not going anywhere."

She froze, her fingers stilling on the page of the book. Her gaze flicked to you immediately, her lips parting as though she were about to speak, but the words never came. Instead, she reached out, brushing your cheek with her cool fingers.

"You’re not going anywhere?" she repeated, her voice thick with emotion. "You promise?"

You smiled weakly, though the exhaustion from the fever made it hard to keep your eyes open. "I promise. You don’t have to worry about me, Agatha. I’m not leaving you."

Her eyes softened, but there was still an edge to her expression- something unresolved, something she was clearly holding back. You could see it in the way she clenched her jaw, the way her hands trembled slightly.

"I can’t lose you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You frowned slightly, your brow furrowing as your gaze locked with hers. "What do you mean?" You decided to press further.

Agatha bit her lip, and for the first time in days, she pulled away from you, standing up and pacing a few steps away, as though trying to find the words she had never spoken. Finally, she turned to face you, her eyes heavy with unshed tears, her breath shallow.

"Nicky," she said softly, her voice trembling. "It was centuries ago, but it still feels like it was yesterday. I was asleep when it happened. I couldn’t protect him."

You felt your heart tighten at her words. You knew that losing a child, especially at such a young age, was a grief that no one should ever have to bear.

You sat up slowly, your hands reaching for her, and she came to you immediately, her arms enveloping you as you pulled her close. She buried her face in your neck, her breath shaky as she held onto you like a lifeline.

"I don’t want to lose you too," Agatha whispered, the rawness in her voice breaking your heart. "I lost him, and I can’t go through that again I-"

"You won’t lose me," you interrupted gently, stroking her hair. "I’m right here, Agatha. You have me, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you."

She held you tighter, her body trembling with the weight of her emotions. You could feel the fear, the loss, and the deep, aching need for reassurance that was clawing at her. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, holding her as close as you could.

"I’m not leaving you," you repeated, your voice firm. "I’ll be here. Always."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other’s arms, the quiet of the room settling over you like a warm blanket.

Eventually she pulled away just slightly, enough to look you in the eyes. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, and she leaned down to kiss you, her lips warm and desperate against yours.

"I love you," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the lines of her face as you both settled back into the bed, wrapped up in each other.

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped tightly in Agatha’s arms, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, despite the lingering fever. You knew that no matter what happened, Agatha would always protect you. And that thought was more comforting than anything else.

~

The next morning, Agatha woke up to an empty bed.

Panic surged through her like wildfire. She scrambled out of bed, her heart hammering in her chest as she darted through the house, her mind racing with all the worst possibilities. She called your name, her voice rising in desperation as she checked every room, every corner.

"Baby? Where are you?" she called, her eyes wide with fear. Her breath hitched when she reached the kitchen, but there you were—standing at the stove, humming a little tune as you flipped a pancake. When you saw her standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and breathless, you couldn’t help but smile.

"Fuck baby" Agatha breathed, rushing over to you in relief. She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around your waist as though she would never let go. "Why didn’t you wake me?"

You looked up, a sheepish smile on your face. "Sorry love,” you smiled, your voice warm and soft. "I’m feeling better so I wanted to make you breakfast in bed as a thank you for taking care of me..."

Agatha’s eyes welled up with tears, and for a moment, she just held you close, taking in the relief of knowing you were alright. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you," she whispered, pressing her face into your hair.

You pulled back slightly, a playful smile on your lips. "You’ll never have to. We are witches baby, you’re stuck with me for a very very long time. You’ll be old and wrinkly with a hundred rabbits and I’ll still love you just as much as I do right now”

Her hands slid down to cup your face, and she kissed you deeply, the tension in her body finally easing. "I can’t believe you’re making me pancakes," she teased, a glint of mischief returning to her eyes. "Do you have the syrup I like?"

You giggled, pulling back slightly to rummage through the cupboard. "Of course I do. I’m treating my girl, after all."

Agatha grinned, her playful side returning. "Careful, if you keep spoiling me like this, I might begin to expect it."

You smiled, feeling your heart swell as you handed her the syrup. "I’ll make sure to add making you breakfast every morning to our wedding vows."

As you stood there together, the quiet of the house no longer felt heavy with fear or uncertainty. Instead, it was filled with the warmth of love and the promise that, no matter what, you and Agatha would always be there for each other.

And for the first time in days, you both felt like everything would be alright.

[0omillo0]

Oki so Im like searching fics all day long and u said i can request and im never getting enough of ur fics anyways so here luv 💕

Sooo Chan x reader

where maybe reader is already feeling horrible lately. And today smth appens at the studio and chan gets rlly frustrated so he comes home and today yn has been feeling even worse and feels like she can’t even get out of bed but like Chan comes home, not even seeing yns horrible stadium so he lets all the anger out on her wich rlly gives her the last push to like feeling just entirely depressed. Then she is standing crying and totally drained in front of one of the other members door, breaking down totally.

I’ll let the rest up to u, pls make it really really angsty but pls i just need a good lot of comfort at the end ❤️

BANGCHAN X READER

a/n: I’ve already made a vv similar story but I like this one so much better! let me know what you think ♡ also this is for my beloved @hannamoon143 tysm for your request and sorry for the wait!

genre: angst, comfort

The day had already been heavy, dragging you down like you were walking through thick mud. Lately, it seemed every breath took more effort than the last, and today, it had reached a peak. You couldn’t even get out of bed. The weight of everything pressed down on you, making the air feel like it was suffocating. It wasn’t like this was new—this lingering sadness had been with you for days, like a dark cloud refusing to lift.

You curled up deeper into your sheets, staring at the wall. You hadn’t moved in hours, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t done anything but exist in this space of nothingness. The world outside your room felt miles away, unreachable. The only sound you heard was the occasional muffled voices from outside your apartment.

And then there was a slam. You heard the front door being pushed open harder than usual, and you knew Chan was home. The sound of his keys hitting the counter was sharp, followed by a frustrated sigh that cut through the quiet air. You knew that sound—something must’ve gone wrong at the studio. His day hadn’t been any better than yours, apparently.

Your body wanted to get up, wanted to greet him, but you couldn’t. It was like you were glued to the mattress. Even when you heard his footsteps approaching, your body wouldn’t listen.

The door to the bedroom opened, and without looking at him, you knew he was tense. His energy radiated frustration, the kind that made rooms feel smaller, the air thicker.

“God, today was insane,” Chan muttered, not noticing how you barely shifted under the covers. His voice was rough, filled with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “Everything went wrong. Absolutely everything.”

You bit your lip, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Maybe if you said something, anything, it could stop what you knew was coming.

But then he turned, finally looking at you, his eyes glossing over the state you were in. He couldn’t see it—he couldn’t see how you were breaking inside. All he saw was a person not responding, and it made him snap.

“Can you at least say something?!” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut deep. His frustration had reached its peak, and you were the closest target. “I’ve been dealing with so much today, and you’re just lying there. Not a word, nothing. Are you a fucking emotionless doll??”

You flinched at his tone, at his words. Your chest tightening even more. The tears that had been sitting at the edge of your eyes began to spill over silently.

Chan didn’t notice right away. His anger kept him blind. He sighed. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh, but it’s been such a mess, and I can’t—” His words stumbled to a stop when he saw the way your body shook, the way you were crying silently beneath the covers.

“Y/N?” His voice softened, the frustration vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Hey, hey…” He moved closer, but it was too late. The weight of everything—his words, your own struggles—it all collapsed in on you like a tidal wave.

You sat up slowly, the sobs shaking your frame as you tried to wipe the tears away, but they kept coming. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible through the storm of emotions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I just… I can’t…”

Chan’s face fell as he realized what he’d done. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t see it. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t see how much you were hurting. I’ve made it worse I’m so sorry—“

But his apology couldn’t stop the breaking that was already happening inside you. You needed to escape, to find some sort of relief from the pressure that was crushing you from all sides.

Without saying a word, you slipped out of the bed, your legs unsteady, and you walked toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. Chan’s voice followed you, concern clear in his tone, but you couldn’t stop. Not now.

You found yourself in front of one of the other members’ doors. You didn’t even know how you got there, your vision blurred with tears. Maybe it was instinct, seeking comfort somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t the suffocating silence of your room or the crushing weight of your mind.

You knocked, barely registering the sound of your own fist against the wood. And then, as if the last string holding you together snapped, your body gave in. You slid down to the floor, your arms wrapping around your knees as the sobs came harder now, uncontrollable, raw.

The door opened, and the blurry shape of someone—was it Felix?—stood there, eyes wide in shock. “Y/N…?” he asked gently, his voice like a balm, but you couldn’t respond. All you could do was cry.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Felix crouched down beside you, his hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on your shoulder. His touch was warm, comforting in a way that made you feel safe enough to let it all out. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re not alone.”

His words broke something else in you, but this time, it wasn’t painful. It was a release. The tears kept falling, but his presence kept you grounded, kept you from drowning completely.

Behind you, you heard Chan’s hurried footsteps. He stopped when he saw you on the floor, a mix of guilt and worry etched into his face. “Y/N…” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

Felix looked up at him, a silent exchange passing between them, and Chan knelt down beside you. “I didn’t mean to—” He stopped, choking on his own emotions, before continuing softly, “I should’ve seen that you were hurting. I was selfish.”

You looked up at him, your vision still blurred, but you could see the regret, the hurt in his eyes. And it wasn’t just because he’d had a rough day. It was because he hadn’t been there for you when you needed him most.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice shaking.

Chan shook his head, reaching out to take your hands in his, his grip gentle, tentative. “No, no, you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention. I love you, and I should’ve been there for you. I’m so so sorry for calling you.. the way I called you. I’m sorry baby”

You shook your head. “Do you think I’m useless?? Am I just a doll to you??”

Chan realised how much his words hurt you. At this point he felt so guilty, his expression softened, his big glossy eyes looking directly at yours. “Y/Nie, my love, I didn’t mean to say those awful things to you. I understand if you’re not going to trust me anymore, but I swear I love you more than anything and I’ll do anything to make it up for you.. for us..”

Felix gave a small nod and stood up, retreating to give the two of you space. Chan pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as he spoke, “We’re going to get through this. Together, okay? I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”

And for the first time that day, you felt a small sense of relief, a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy—these feelings, this heaviness—but you weren’t alone. Chan was with you, and that made all the difference.

As you sat there, held in his arms, the storm inside you slowly began to calm, the cracks in your heart starting to mend, piece by piece.

“I’m here,” Chan whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll always be here.”

taglist

@hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[theconstantsidekick]

Thunderbolts* ft. Static (1) | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Such unexpected angst, my god. Such unexpected giggles MY GOD.

Summary: When attending Valentina's gala for the Heroes of NYC, Bucky gets a surprise visit... from his wife—Y/n.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codenamed—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: MINOR SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* (nothing you haven't seen in the trailers), Cursing, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Smoking (don't do it kids)

a/n: if you're reading this as someone who has read Static Verse before, you are about to lose your mind, babygirl. and if you're new, fret not, i assure you, you'll be having double the fun.

Thunderbolts* ft Static (2) | Series Masterlist | Static: Get, Set, Glitch | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“Howdy, Congressman.” 

The voice cuts through the hub-hub of the party like the sharpest knife in his weapons chest. 

He’s been dying to hear it. 

He’s dying now that he has. 

He’s been desperate to hear it. 

He’s bleeding now that he has. 

He hated missing it. 

He misses hating it now that he has.

“What the hell?” He throws back, gritting his teeth. 

What?

Did you think he was gonna act all fucking heartbroken and shit? Tough chance.

Besides, he is surprised by her entrance. And annoyed.

(And something else, festering quietly under the skin. But no, we don’t talk about that.)

But then he turns to face her and suffice to say, no one—and he means no one, in this room, in New York, in the goddamn world—can carry a suit, like Y/n Stark can. 

She’s an avalanche in white. Of course she is. 

Practically a threat to all mankind. 

Fuck.

She’s in some kind of structured suit—clean lines, sharp shoulders, silk ribbons trailing off the sides like they were stitched in just to piss someone off. It shouldn’t work. It does.

The jacket’s buttoned up tight, like armor, but somehow still manages to look… effortless. The pants are wide and loose and glide when she moves, almost like the floor’s giving her a pass. Even her damn shoes are white. Who wears fucking sneakers to a gala?

Y/n Stark, apparently.

He hates how good she looks.

No—scratch that. He hates that she knows it.

She doesn’t dress to impress. She dresses to disarm.

And it’s working.

“Right back atchya, Congressman!” She bites back with a cunning smile and all too easy shrug. Gesturing nonchalantly and vaguely at the entirety of him with the drink in her hand, she adds, “Who put this gem of an outfit together for ya?” Before he can even register her words, let alone respond, she speaks up, “Wait! Let me guess—It was your assistant—what’s her face?” The drink sloshing in her hand at the sudden action. 

Fuck if Bucky doesn’t hate going up against her like this. 

She plays this game all too fucking well. 

Clenching his jaw, he tries to compose himself, tries to swell the storm of petulance and rage rising in him. 

“Daisy, right?” She answers her own question. And then she smirks at him, malice clearly etched on every single inch of her face. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

Bucky fails.

“Fuck off!”

His tone is cutting.

Anyone else—anyone at all—would’ve been bleeding.

But this isn’t anyone. 

No. 

This is Y/n Stark. 

This is Static.

She just throws her hands up in mock surrender, a smile playing at her lips. “Did I touch a nerve, Congressman?”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t put a fist through the wall.

Growth, or whatever. 

Cocking his neck, frustrated and annoyed beyond mensure, he yells out, “Will you fucking stop that?”

“Stop what, Congressman?” 

“That!”

“I’m sorry, Congressman. I’m completely lost. Whatever do you m—?”

“Will you ever stop fucking calling me that?”

“Oh!” Her smile widens and yet she manages somehow to look painfully innocent. “Well…” She takes a sip from her drink, having finally pulled the reaction she was hoping for. “I’ll stop calling you Congressman, when you stop being a Congressman… Congressman.”

His hands clench into fists while his jaw is now working overtime, gritting his teeth. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

It’s a valid question.

Bucky’s meant to be at these stupid galas—especially if it’s some absolute bullshit about commemorating the Heroes of New York but even more so if it’s bullshit being hosted by Valentine Allegra de Fontaine.

But she has no reason to be here—especially now that she’s stepped away from the superhero spotlight and returned to what she’s always been unbeatable at. 

Espionage. Strategy. Disappearing before you even knew she was there.

(And sometimes after one has gotten painfully used to her.)

And yet, here she is. 

Making a shit night, shittier for Bucky.

They’re standing off to the side of the main hall—tucked just out of the spotlight near a row of marble pillars that frame the edge of the ballroom like silent sentinels. The rest of the gala hums on in the background—clinking glasses, soft chamber music, boots polished enough to blind a man. White walls catch reflections from crystal chandeliers, everything too pristine, too glossy, too staged.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” She asks, very rhetorically. “Your fucking press team called me.” 

Well fuck, Bucky thinks to himself. 

He almost winces at how dumb the answer makes him sound.

But she’s not done yet. In a much lower volume, she adds, “Apparently, you’ve done a few too many of these things without me on your arm—” she clicks her fingers, “—and oh! The interview before Valentina’s hearing? Yeah, that really didn’t help.” She shakes her head at him. “What the hell were you even thinking, Bucky?” He’s gonna sound fucking stupid when he says this… but, is he losing it or does she sound like she gives a shit? “I thought—Don’t you have a goddamn speechwriter?” 

He’s probably just losing it.

Better to fix that before he spirals.

That’s why, standing up straighter, he takes a step closer to her. In a low voice, he speaks steadily with all the cool and collected calm he can find, “So, what? You decided to swing by, throw that Stark name around and get my polls back up again?”

Maybe it’s Bucky’s tone or maybe it’s the use of the ‘Stark’ name veiled as an insult that does it, but done, it is. Her facade falls—or well—her armour cracks a bit.

A sliver of moonlight slips through a window behind her, casting her in its glow.

With a hint of heartbreak in her tone that can be clocked by Bucky and Bucky alone, she says, “It was your press team that called me, Buck.” It makes him feel like absolute fucking shit. She gulps, audibly, slowly to compose herself. “I came here as a favor.”

Look, while he’s come a long way in his century long existence, he still hasn’t mastered the art of healthy communication just yet. Especially not when the person he’s meant to communicate with is—no wait, was—oh fuck it. Whatever. 

What he means to say is don’t hold it against him when he retaliates with, “More like holding up your end of the bargain.”

Just like that, the moonlight is devoured by the clouded sky.

“Bullshit!” She counters, loud and raging. “You have not even pretended to hold up your end, so this a fucking favor and you know it!”

Before Bucky can retort, before he can bite back with a defense that would fall completely flat in front of her, he hears hushed whispers from across the room.

A lady in red pointing at Y/n with a look of pure wonder as she tells her date, “Is that? Y/n Stark?”

He knows there will be more people who’ll follow suit. He knows that their time to keep hurling verbal grenades at each other has come to a halt for now. 

Buttoning his blazer, he easily takes a step towards her. With a small smile that he knows she can clock as being purely performative, he leans in. His hand finds her waist, his cheek rests on her temple.

They’ve done this before. The charade. The proximity. The whispered nothings that look like devotion from a distance.

But every single time it knocks the air out of him.

She fits against him like muscle memory. Like gravity. Like the ache he never truly got over.

The perfume is familiar—light, cool, infuriatingly subtle. Her body is stiff under his hand, but not enough to give them away. Not enough to stop his mind from wandering.

She plays her part like a pro. But he misses her like a fucking idiot.

Every. Single. Time.

He swallows hard and leans in, his lips brushing just close enough to her ear to sell the image. His voice is steady, dry, deadpan, “Can we please just get this over with?”

She pulls back just enough to look at him—not enough to ruin the photo-op, of course. “Yeah.” A beat. “Let’s go pretend like we’re happy…”

He hears it. That little shift in her tone. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Just enough to catch on his ribs like a splinter.

He glances at her. Fast. Reflex.

Eyes sharp. Expression unreadable. Almost too unreadable.

But her eyes—there’s something there. A crack in the glass. Not big. Not loud. But there.

Probably nothing.

Probably just him being pathetic again.

He exhales through his nose, tightens the grip on his own mask, and lets it all slide off his face.

Smile. Nod. Showtime.

Together, they walk into the ballroom like they haven’t been throwing knives at each other for the last ten minutes.

The room is buzzing—laughing, clinking, performing. Senators, lobbyists, old money in new packaging. All of them oozing self-importance and scotch.

And Bucky? He plays the part.

Firm handshake. Steel spine. Smile that doesn't touch his eyes.

He lets Y/n lead the charm offensive—she’s better at it. Too good, honestly. Laughing at someone’s joke like it didn’t make her soul rot. Touching his arm like she doesn’t want to snap it off. Whispering little things in his ear—observations, names, barbs, whatever she thinks will keep them looking like a unit.

To everyone else, it probably looks like flirting. Like chemistry.

To him? It’s muscle memory.

Her voice keeps brushing past his ear and every goddamn time it happens, something tightens in his chest.

He keeps one hand at the small of her back. It’s for show. That’s all it is.

But he can feel her pulse.

Quick. A little too quick.

Might be nothing.

Might be everything.

But he’s not stupid enough to ask.

He doesn’t really get a chance to, either.

“Mrs. Congressman! So good to see you.”

And just like that, her smile’s gone.

They both turn to face the voice. Of course it’s Valentina. Smug. Dressed like she owns the place. Considering it is her event…

Y/n doesn’t even blink. “Don’t fucking call me that, Valentina.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Valentina fake-winces like someone just stepped on her designer shoes. “Alright, alright. Then… how about Mrs. Barnes?”

Not a jab. Just bait.

Still, it lands.

Bucky feels the hit in his chest first. Then in his hand—the metal one—curling into a fist before he even realizes it.

Y/n doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. Not even a twitch.

He hates how good she is at this.

Valentina’s still grinning.  “Oh, wait! That doesn’t work either, does it?” Still going. “If I’m right—and I usually am—you never actually changed your last name after the two of you…” She wiggles her damn eyebrows. “Tied the knot.”

Bucky exhales through his nose. Doesn’t look at Y/n. Doesn’t have to. He already knows what kind of damage Valentina’s trying to do.

And Y/n?

She just stands there like a statue that could break your jaw.

“I’m the COO of Stark Industries,” she says flatly. “I own half of it.” Then she adds, like it’s just an afterthought—but it’s not. Not even close. “Oh—and my brother saved the multiverse. Died doing it. So forgive me if changing my name felt... disrespectful.”

Beat.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not Mrs. Barnes.”

She says it like a fact. Like a closing argument.

Bucky can’t fucking breathe.

Because she meant it.

Not as a comeback. Not as a performance. Just—meant it.

And that’s what guts him.

He doesn’t know why she said it. Doesn’t know what the hell’s going on in her head these days—hasn’t for a while now—but he knows her well enough to know that wasn’t for the cameras.

Wasn’t for Valentina.

Wasn’t for anyone but her.

She said it like it was the sky being blue. Like it was gravity. Like it was just true.

And maybe that’s what really screws with him.

Because if it’s still true for her… what the hell does that mean for him?

What does it mean for this?

He keeps staring, stuck somewhere between a punch to the gut and a prayer.

But Valentina has no regard for Bucky’s silent spiral, so with absolute ignorance, she counters with, “Alright, alright.” A smile plays at her lips as she puts on a very obvious show of innocence. “I get it,” she says then. “There’s a legacy attached to that name. One you want to honor by carrying it with yourself.” She shrugs, “I understand.”

“You do?” Y/n throws back, nonchalant yet clearly not buying any of the shit that she’s selling.

Valentina just waves her hand, “Of course, I do!” She gestures around the room, at the exhibit, “That’s what this event is all about! The legacy of the Avengers.”

“Huh,” Y/n remarks. She turns to Bucky then, “I thought it was about commoditizing all the shit our teammates went through.”

“Ah! That is exactly what I thought you would think,” Valentina chirps, all teeth and smug delight, “which is why I thought you wouldn’t, you know?”

“Show up?” Y/n offers, one brow raised.

Valentina nods, like she’s just won a game no one else was playing. “Exactly.”

Y/n doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, you miscalculated—I go where he goes.” She nods toward Bucky, tone sharp enough to draw blood.

And yeah—Bucky feels that one too.

Jesus. Can this night back the fuck off?

He’s barely recovered from the Mrs. Barnes gut punch, and now she’s throwing that out like it’s nothing? Like it doesn’t mean everything?

The hell is he supposed to do with that?

(Aside from standing here like a decorative husband prop and pretending his pulse hasn’t been tap-dancing for ten straight minutes.)

“That’s not really true, though, is it?” Valentina replies, her voice all innocence and arsenic. “I haven’t really seen you around at the last couple of events.”

Y/n makes a face—one of those ‘are you fucking serious’ looks that Bucky’s missed more than he cares to admit. “It was obviously metaphorical, Valentina. This isn’t the 1950s. I have a fucking day job.”

Bucky snorts before he can help it. Just a little one.

Valentina’s eyes flick to him.

Bucky shrugs, half a step past nonchalant. “What? It was funny,” he says, deadpan. “Sue me… once you’re done with those damn impeachment hearings.”

Y/n sips her drink without looking at him. But he knows she’s trying not to laugh.

Valentina’s smile twitches—tightens. “That was hilarious, yeah. Absolute riot!” she snaps, all sugar and venom, smile stretched so thin it’s practically translucent.

Bucky just gives her the smallest smirk. It’s not much. Barely a twitch at the corner of his mouth. But it feels good. Petty, maybe. Worth it? Fuck yeah.

She notices, of course. Valentina notices everything. Especially things she can’t control.

“I know that you’re really batting for me to get impeached,” she says, slowly now—careful, loaded—“based on the misinformation that’s been spread about me.” Here it comes.

“But I would think you, Congressman Barnes,” she presses, too sweet, too close, “should know better than anyone how easy it is to sway public opinion. Make them see you as a hero.”

And—yeah. That one fucking lands.

No time to recoil. No air to breathe through it.

She leans in like she’s offering a goddamn olive branch. One hand reaches out, faux-affectionate, resting lightly on his arm. “Besides, I am on your side!”

Bucky blinks. “On my side?”

“Yeah,” she hums. “Oh? You haven’t heard?” Her eyes scan the room like she’s about to drop state secrets—like this is some casual little gossip sesh between friends. Then she drops her voice, almost conspiratorial. “There’s this horrible, terrible, no-good rumor going around the office... says that Mrs. Barnes has been taking these ‘night shifts’ that no government organization or agency seems to know about...”

By the time she’s finished, her eyes are on Y/n, locked and loaded with a glint that makes something primal crack down Bucky’s spine.

And then—it’s instant.

The temperature in his skull plummets. His vision narrows.

Bucky sees red.

He’s leaning in before he even knows he’s doing it, voice low and sharp as broken glass. “Are you fucking threatening my wife?”

The words slice through the air, hard enough to halt conversation at a few nearby tables.

Valentina doesn’t even blink. She just smiles. Calm as ever. “Of course not, Congressman!” she says, voice raised just enough to draw more eyes. “No! No.” She gives a theatrical little shake of her head, lips curled like he’s the one throwing a tantrum in public. Then, lower: “If anything, it looks like you’re the one threatening me.”

And that’s when he feels it—Y/n’s hand, gentle but firm, pulling him back.

He doesn’t resist. Not really. He lets her tug him half a step behind her like a leash on a short fuse. But his eyes? They don’t leave Valentina. Not for a fucking second.

“I was just informing,” Valentina insists, turning back to the crowd like she’s clarifying something for the record. “Since we were already on the subject of Mrs. Barnes’ job, or whatnot…” She waves her fingers vaguely.

And then, like it’s the punchline she’s been saving for the end: “But I can’t blame you. Once a guard dog, always a guard dog, I suppose.”

Bucky doesn’t react.

He doesn’t need to.

Because beside him, Y/n lets out a chuckle. Hollow. Dangerous. The kind that makes people shift in their seats without realizing why.

He knows that laugh. He’s seen it in rooms right before shit exploded—literally and metaphorically.

And yeah.

Valentina’s about to regret everything.

Y/n turns toward her slowly, whiskey still in hand, wearing a smile so wide and condescending it practically has teeth. “You know, Val,” she starts, voice dripping with mock-sympathy, “there’s a reason you’re being investigated.” Valentina’s expression doesn’t change. But Bucky catches it. The flicker. The way her fingers twitch slightly at her side. “There’s a reason you had to hire Shadow Ops to sweep the Chimera Protocol logs,” Y/n continues. One step forward. “A reason you buried Red Sigil, scrubbed Orchis, torched Project Sentry, wiped Black Box, so on and so forth.” She almost sounds bored while Bucky watches the blood metaphorically drain from Valentina’s ego.

Y/n tilts her head like she’s about to offer a recipe for snickerdoodles. “It’s ‘cause you’re fucking sloppy.” 

And shit, Bucky could kiss her.

(He won’t. Can’t. Not here. Not now. Not anymore.)

“But I’m not,” Y/n finishes, all sweetness and silence.

Then she shrugs, easy as anything, like she’s not holding an arsenal behind her eyes. “Which is why all you’ve got on me are rumors.”

Valentina tries to speak. Doesn’t manage it.

Y/n takes another lazy step back, looping her arm through Bucky’s without asking. The contact is light. Y/nual.

And it wrecks him.

She doesn’t look at him when she speaks next, but the way she says it—Bucky feels it like a goddamn vow. “So if you wanna come for me,” Y/n says, “I suggest you come out swinging as hard as you possibly fucking can.” Her hand tightens slightly around his arm. “However…” she says, tone flipping like a switchblade, “if you insult my husband ever again…” Another step closer, this one almost gentle. “I assure you, the impeachment will be the least of your worries.”

Valentina snorts, a little too loud, a little too sharp—like she knows she’s lost this round but refuses to leave without throwing one last grenade over her shoulder. “I am sensing a little hostility here,” she says. “Does it—” she feignes surprise. “It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened in Marrakech, does it?”

She says it like it just occurred to her. Like the memory drifted lazily into her skull without warning.

Like it isn’t loaded.

Like it isn’t lethal.

Like it hasn’t ripped both of them apart at the seams and left the pieces rearranged, barely functioning.

Bucky freezes. Just a second.

Just enough.

His heart doesn't even race—because it stops.

He can feel the temperature drop behind his ribs, feel the way every muscle in his body winds tight and ready. The way his jaw locks down so hard he might crack a molar. He doesn't need to look at Y/n to know she feels it too. That kind of grief—that kind of ruin—settles into your bones like rot.

And Valentina tosses it out like she’s asking if they remember a bad vacation.

Like it wasn’t a before-and-after line in their lives.

Like it didn’t hollow them both out in ways neither one has figured out how to name.

And the way she says it—so casually, so deliberately careless—it doesn’t just sting.

It makes something ancient in Bucky snap.

“Because if it is,” Valentina carries on, entirely unfazed by the silence now thunderclapping between them, “allow me to apologise!” Her hands press to her chest like she’s about to burst into a musical number. “It must’ve been horrible for the two of you—and the fact that you were able to survive something like that?” A theatrical gasp. “Honestly, it’s a testament to your relationship!”

She’s smiling.

Smiling like it’s all just gossip and politics and pageantry.

Like she didn’t just put her hands around something sacred and squeeze.

“But I really am so sorry for—“

Bucky doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t growl. Doesn’t bark.

He speaks, low and even, “Di' un'altra parola e ti taglierò la gola lì dove ti trovi.” You say another word and I’ll slit your throat where you stand. His voice doesn’t shake. His eyes don’t blink.

He means it.

Every syllable is soaked in venom and every syllable is the truth.

“Congressman or not,” he adds, stepping in just enough to make it felt, “I still am the Winter Soldier.”

And finally—finally—Valentina shuts the fuck up.

For the first time tonight, she looks like she doesn’t know what to say.

Not scared. Not shaken. Just… stalling. Like her brain’s buffering.

Because maybe she forgot for a second that behind the polished suits and press-friendly smiles, Bucky Barnes is still someone who’s buried men for far, far less.

Y/n is the one to break the silence. “Annndd, I think we’re done here,” she says lightly, almost chipper—like they didn’t just walk through hell in white sneakers and golden cufflinks. 

She’s already pulling on Bucky’s arm, and he doesn’t fight it.

 Doesn’t even hesitate.

It’s too easy, the way he lets her lead him out. Like muscle memory. Like safety. Like home.

“I’d say we’ll see you around,” Y/n calls over her shoulder, voice sharp and bright like broken glass, “but I really don’t think you want that… so. Later!”

Bucky doesn’t look back.

Because if he does, he might actually make good on that threat.

And right now, the only thing keeping him from becoming someone he swore he wouldn’t be again… is the woman walking next to him.

Still close. Still there.

Still his.

Even if it hurts like hell.

Once they reach a quiet corner—up the stairs, onto a mezzanine that somehow feels just slightly detached from the glittering absurdity of the party below—Bucky finally breathes.

He steps back, lets the railing press into his spine. From here, the chandelier is almost at eye level. Y/n faces him, stairs flanking her, a hallway looming behind. She lets go of his arm, and he feels it—like a sudden drop in pressure, like the warmth of her hand had been the only thing keeping him upright.

“That was intense,” she says, trying to make light of it, like it wasn’t anything. Like she didn’t feel it too.

The ghost of her fingers lingers on his arm, just phantom heat now, and the sudden absence pisses him off more than it should.

“What was I supposed to do?” The words come out harsh. Too loud in the empty space. “Just fucking take it?”

She throws her hands up in mock surrender, easy, casual, like she’s not remotely afraid of him—which, of course, she isn’t. Hasn’t been since the time she dropped a building on him. “Hey, I didn’t say it was unprovoked… just that it was intense.”

Bucky starts pacing. He doesn’t mean to. It just happens. That old feeling crawls up his spine again—too many eyes, too many ears, too much to hold in his chest all at once. 

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, flexing his fingers like it might work the anger out through his joints, “she has a special skill set for pissing me off.”

Y/n smiles—like she always does when she knows she shouldn’t. “Yeah, trust me, I could tell.”

He stops. There’s a silence now, not awkward, but thick. He can feel her thinking. Y/n never just lets a moment pass. She always gets there, eventually. Some part of him itches at the weight in her eyes. “What is it?” he asks, his voice low, more tense than he intended.

She shakes her head too fast, the kind of motion that means liar. “Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes. “Just say it.”

She pauses, breathes in like she’s bracing herself. He knows that inhale. It’s the same one she used to take before dropping some deep truth over cold pizza in bed. The same one from the morning she left.

“You—you called yourself—the—the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky tilts his head. “Yes… And?”

There’s something in the way her jaw tenses that puts him on edge.

“Haven’t heard you do that in a while.”

His lips pull into a smile, the kind that feels like cracked porcelain—brittle and mean. He’s not pacing anymore. He’s rooted. “Probably ‘cause you haven’t exactly been around in a while.”

It lands. He sees it land. Her eyes flinch like he smacked her.

She throws the line back like a boomerang. “Wonder why, when you’re such a peach!”

He barks out a laugh. “As if you’re getting awards for your charming personality.”

The silence now is different—volatile. Like lightning before the crack.

She speaks first. “So you do it often, then?”

“Do what?”

“Call yourself that—call yourself the Winter Soldier?”

The question pins him, unexpected in how deeply it cuts. It shouldn’t. It’s a name. A code. A past. A brand.

He hesitates. Feels that same twist in his gut he gets every time he sees the headlines, the merchandise, the fanboys with metal arm tattoos. “I… I guess? It did well in focus-groups.” He stands straighter, defensive now, posturing. “People think The Winter Soldier is cool… People like it.”

Y/n looks away, and he sees it—her face fractures. Not in a dramatic way, not even fully visible. But it’s there. A crack in the armor only he knows how to spot. “Yeah…” she says, soft, like her ribs hurt. “That’s probably ‘cause people are stupid.”

And what the fucking hell does that mean?

He bites out the words before he can stop himself. “Because they like me?”

She snaps to attention, eyes wide. “Seriously? Come on, Jam—” She stops herself. Not out of habit. She chooses to. His name dies in her throat and she scrubs her hands down her face. “That—that’s not what I meant.” She says it too fast. Like she’s trying to catch the words before they settle.

Oh.

Bucky watches her scrub a hand down her face, all nerves and frustration, and something clenches in his chest. Not sharp. Just... tight.

She almost called him— 

Almost.

But she didn’t.

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods, like, Okay. Sure.

They’re not fighting now. Not really.

That counts for something.

Right?

Fuck know.

Then she exhales like she’s got smoke to blow out. “I need a drink.” She turns to go—left.

He snorts, low. “Uh huh,” Bucky mutters, leaning back against the railing like he’s clocking out of a shift.

She halts. Rigid. Whips around. “What?”

He raises a brow. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Just fucking say it.”

Fine.

“The bar’s to your right.”

She looks. Of course it is.

Turns back slow, eyes narrowed. “I was gonna pee first.”

He points past her without even looking. “Restrooms are right behind you.”

She glances over her shoulder. Big neon sign flashing like it’s mocking her.

Back to him. “I was… taking the scenic route.”

He nods, solemn. “You hate direct paths. Always have.”

“I wanted to stay away from your stupid face for as long as possible.”

“You hate my face too. Always have.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

She glares. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“What?”

He shrugs, lazy. “Didn’t say anything.”

“WHAT?”

Still shrugging. “Still nothing.”

“Just say it, Barnes.”

He bites down on a grin. “You were gonna get a drink.”

“I was gonna get a drink,” she says, like if she says it hard enough it becomes true.

He nods again. “Totally.”

And now it’s on.

The standoff.

The old game.

They don’t move.

Don’t blink.

Until—

“And smoke a fucking cigarette!” she snaps, like it’s been clawing at her throat. “There! Happy?”

He tries not to smile. Fails. “Didn’t even ask. You offered that up all on your own.”

She jabs a finger at him like she’d love to stick it between his ribs. “It is my life, okay? We might still technically be married, but we are separated. You don’t get to police my goddamn lungs.”

He lifts both hands. Peace sign, surrender, whatever works. “Wasn’t gonna.”

She storms off, full of dramatic exit energy—

—only to spin right back.

“And you definitely don’t get to morally judge my cigarette, either!”

His smile widens, lazy and pleased. “Didn’t even raise an eyebrow.”

“You’re an asshole.”

That makes him laugh. Full-bodied and stupid and real.

She turns to go again—

“Y/n,” he calls out, smooth, soft. Maybe it’s the old habit slipping in or maybe he’s too drunk on his little victory.

She halts instantly. “What?!”

He points, deadpan. “The smoking area is behind the bar. To your right.”

“Motherfucking asshole!” She mutters under her breath knowing full well that he can hear her. She stalks off then, middle finger half-raised. “I fucking hate you!”

“Right back atchya, babygirl!” 

He watches her go, still chuckling like an idiot.

Still bleeding under it all.

But for a second, it almost feels normal.

Read the next part here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here.

be honest, i blew your mind, right? that was crazy, right? come on! it was. you gotta admit it.

Just fyi, y’all didn’t miss like a previous instillment or anything. I just did a time skip, hence the marriage and subsequent separation. Love you very much much xoxo

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ SUPER RICH KIDS kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is back home), family dynamics, rich kid things, swearing, chaewon is still chaewon, arguing, weight mentions

finally.

you’d think after everything that someone has gone through in this house, stepping back through those doors would be the last thing she’d want. but she wasn’t going to lie.

yn felt at peace.

because in the moon mansion, she could be who she truly was and not feel bad about it.

a rich girl.

“lunch will be ready soon,” jia’s voice broke through the peaceful quiet as yn lay sprawled on her pink towel by the pool.

yn let out a contented sigh, lifting her sunglasses and pushing her hair back. “thanks, jia. what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”

“you already attended the press conference with your father, so that’s off your list. your brothers will be going to the one tomorrow, so all you’ve got left is golfing with your members.”

the happy, serene soundtrack in yn’s head came to a screeching halt as she shot up from her towel.

“what?!”

“your mother didn’t tell you? she thought it’d be a good idea for you to invite them, so she reached out while you were out with your father,” jia said, her expression full of concern. she didn’t understand. shouldn’t yn be excited?

“when does she ever tell me anything?” yn grumbled, flopping back down on her towel childishly “jia, during dinner, add a splash of vodka to my mango juice. maybe the alcohol will keep me from flipping the table.”

jia chuckled softly, fondness in her eyes for the girl she’d watched grow up. “when has that ever helped anything? i’ll check on lunch.”

yn groaned as jia walked away. this was supposed to be her escape. chaewon is going to have a field day with this.

it seems like nothing can ever go yn’s way.

dinner was quiet. but that was hardly unusual. as far back as yn could remember, dinner had never been family bonding time

bonding didn’t even exist in this family.

the unspoken rule was simple: eat in silence, speak only when necessary.

honestly, yn found the quiet pretty peaceful. just eating, no forced conversation.

but it seemed like her mother couldn’t stand seeing her at peace—ever.

maybe that was an exaggeration, but yn firmly believed it.

“you seem tense, yn,” jae said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took a slow sip from his drink. “something bothering you? got a problem with someone?”

yn gripped her fork tightly, slowly lifting her gaze from her plate. “i do, actually. and for once, it’s not with you, dickhead.”

“language,” their father muttered, eyes never leaving the documents he’d brought to the table.

“oh really, who’s ahead of me?” jae asked clearly liking the banter him and yn are having at the moment.

“I won’t disclose any details just as yet.”

daeun rolled his eyes at his siblings, then, deciding to break the silence since everyone seemed eager to chat, he asked, “so, mom, how was your day?”

their mother beamed at the question, her smile bright and warm. oh, how she adored her son. yn couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“it was amazing, honey. i was just reading an article about your sister’s group.”

“oh, really?” jae responded with mild interest.

“yes! that yunjin member mentioned how she always makes sure the other girls eat and stay healthy. isn’t that wonderful? yn, you have such lovely members.”

as far as yn was concerned, yunjin had never once asked if she was eating properly. but that wasn’t what set her off, she had kazuha who always checked in on her.

it was the nerve her mother had to praise yunjin for something like that—the same person who was the root cause of yn’s so-called “problem.”

“is that why you invited them over tomorrow—without asking me?”

yn hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but her mother’s comment set her off.

her mother furrowed her eyebrows at yn’s tone. “yes, actually. they seem like lovely girls. i was going to suggest you invite those ai girls you’re so fond of, but your judgment isn’t always the best, so i made the decision for you.”

the screech of yn’s chair echoed through the dining room. “i’m not hungry anymore, because clearly no one in this family respects me. may i be excused?”

“sure,” her father said casually, taking a sip of his wine.

“oh, come on, yn! let’s not fall back into those habits,” jae teased.

”fuck you jae!”

“language.”

“you don’t like them, do you?”

yn lifted her head from her pillow, turning slowly to see daeun standing at her door.

“what?”

“the girls in your group. you don’t like them.”

she watched as he stepped forward and sat at the edge of her fluffy bed. “you wouldn’t have reacted that way if it were the girls from sm.”

yn hated how daeun could always read her. they barely talked nowadays, but he still knew his little sister like the back of his hand.

“it’s not that I don’t like them. they don’t like me. no matter how much I lower myself or how nice i act, it’s like they can’t get over the fact that i’m a moon.”

“you lowered yourself for them?”

yn’s eyes flicked up from her lap to see jae standing at the door, disappointment written across his face.

she nodded, feeling a wave of shame. they were raised to believe they were better than everyone else, and here she was, bending over backward for girls who didn’t even like her.

“well, that was your first mistake,” jae said, shaking his head as daeun nodded in agreement.

“you’re dimming who you are to make them feel comfortable, and they’re taking advantage of that,” daeun added, hitting the nail on the head. yn hated how right he was.

“i know you, yn. you’re a bitch—a real one,” jae said with a smirk, earning an eye roll from her. “just be who you are. that’s how you’ll show them. it seems like they can’t stand the fact that you were always going to be successful, idol or not, and they hate that.”

“woah.” yn blinked in disbelief, looking between her brothers. “for once, you two actually make sense.”

“see? a bitch.”

yn adjusted the dior sunglasses perched atop her head, then straightened her pink ralph lauren golf dress before turning to jia.

“why are they taking so long? it’s a gated community,” she complained, tapping her foot as she stood in front of her expansive front lawn.

“patience is key, miss moon. the van is pulling up,” jia replied calmly.

yn felt anxiety creep in but quickly reminded herself of her brother's words. this wasn’t the dorms; this was her turf, the place where yn excelled.

the first person to step out of the van was kazuha, who immediately sprinted toward her.

“zuha!”

“you look so cute! i love your dress,” kazuha gushed, her eyes scanning yn’s outfit she couldn’t help but smile at how relaxed yn looked, she was completely in her element.

“thanks! my dad got it. it’s vintage!” yn beamed.

“of course he did.” yn already knew who that could be.

as she looked past kazuha, she noticed the rest of the girls gazing at her house in awe, it was kinda awkward seeing them, especially after the last time, but yn was just gonna pretend like that day never happened.

yunjin nudged chaewon, nodding toward jia, who narrowed her eyes at chaewon, causing the latter's eyes to widen.

chaewon hadn’t realized someone else was there.

yn couldn’t help but smile at that. “this is jia, the help.”

the girls nodded politely, while kazuha waved, causing yn to furrow her brows. “bow?”

the girls’ eyes widened at the unexpected demand but quickly bowed their heads.

“we treat the help with great respect around here,” yn said sternly . “so take note of that for next time.”

kazuha smiled at yn while the others nodded, a mix of confusion and compliance on their faces.

“so, who’s ready to golf?” yn asked, flashing a sweet smile.

“you guys suck,” yn laughed, watching the girls struggle with their golf swings.

“well, not everyone has been doing this since birth,” chaewon shot back, rolling her eyes.

“you’re so right! it would take a lot to be like me, wouldn’t it?” yn teased, nudging chaewon’s side causing the girl to stumble “your form is horrendous.”

she strolled over to eunchae, adjusting the younger girl’s stance, then moved on to yunjin.

chaewon’s gaze drifted down yn’s body, taking in her outfit of course, she didn’t even know people actually wore dresses like that these days.

she was about to make a snarky comment when a loud shout interrupted her.

“ignore them it’s just the golf boys,” yn said as she corrected sakura’s form.

chaewon rolled her eyes when she heard the boys calling out yn’s name in a flirty tone.

“passed around?”

yn groaned at chaewon’s words. “I’ve only talked to them a handful of times. I barely know them.”

“i talk to the caddy girls a lot, though,” yn added, causing kazuha to laugh while chaewon scrunched her face in distaste.

“do you want my help with your form?” yn asked chaewon, raising an eyebrow.

“definitely not.”

“okay, then continue embarrassing yourself.”

chaewon opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by a woman’s voice.

“yn!”

the girls turned to see yn’s mother approaching, and yn groaned, rolling her eyes. “why is she here?” she mumbled to herself.

the girls recognized the woman—it was yn’s mother.

“hey, ladies! I hope you’re having fun and that yn is being a good host,” she said with a bright smile.

the girls greeted yn’s mom with polite smiles, and she continued, “I just wanted to drop off some cute gifts i got for you all. I completely forgot about them! I had to stop the driver we just left from going to lunch.”

“lunch?” yn asked, the emotion in her voice hard to pinpoint. “you guys went to lunch without me?”

“honey, it’s not a big deal. don’t be dramatic! we were just celebrating your brother’s achievements just an intimate get together that I planned.”

yn couldn’t remember them ever holding something for her achievements, and she had plenty. “right,” yn laughed sarcastically. “i’m always so dramatic, huh?”

the girls exchanged awkward glances; they had never seen yn like this before.

“don’t act like that. god, you’re just like your father,” her mother said, brushing off yn's feelings.

yn clenched her jaw. “is that all? you just came by to drop off gifts?”

“yes, and i wanted to check on you. stop being so moody! just like your dad. my boys are more like me,” her mom said with a smile, prompting awkward laughter from the girls.

“you see how she argues with me, such a daddy’s girl, she looks like a girl version of him as well doesn’t she?.” her mother laughs causing yn to look at chaewon who looks at back at her with a blank face.

“how about you go back to your boys? they’re probably waiting for ‘mommy’,” yn snapped, glaring at her mother.

she had never spoken to her mother this way before, but as she got older, her respect for the woman had diminished. she barely considered her mother a mom anymore.

“yes, i have to go. we’re going shopping to pick out suits for your father and brothers.”

yn felt as if she had been punched in the gut. family shopping—without her? everyone knows yn loves shopping.

“did you plan that too?” she shot back.

her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”

the girls’ eyes widened at her mother’s words, but yn remained unfazed on the outside.

inside, however, yn felt the sting. she tried to pretend she didn’t care about her mom’s opinion, but deep down, she knew she’d spend extra time on her diet after that.

“anyway, I have to go. it was nice seeing you girls! i hope you like the gifts,” her mother said before walking away.

the girls turned to yn, who stared at her mother’s retreating figure before turning back to them.

“I just love my perfect life, don’t ’ I chaewon? now let’s work on your imperfect form.”

[authorhjk1]

1813

(Jisoo X Male Reader) word count: 3279

September 15th, 1813 – Weißenfels

We danced through the night, swept away by the music and the rhythm of our movements. The waltz was followed by a lively quadrille, and though I had never paid much attention to such occasions before, tonight was different. Jisoo moved with grace, her laughter light and warm as she let herself be carried by the music. The first dance passed too quickly, and before I could ask for another, she had already turned towards me with a playful glint in her eye.

“Another?”

She asked, breathless but eager.

The music swelled again as another waltz began, its melody weaving through the grand hall like threads of silk. I offered my hand once more, unable to deny her, or myself, the pleasure of continuing. The room was alive with movement. Couples twirling in perfect harmony, their laughter mingling with the strains of violins and cellos. I held Jisoo close, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder while mine rested at her waist. Together, we moved across the floor, our steps synchronized as though we had danced together countless times before. We spun and stepped through one dance after another, the world beyond the ballroom melting into insignificance. Between each dance, we exchanged words, teasing, and knowing glances.

Her dark eyes sparkled under the candlelight, reflecting both amusement and curiosity as the music picked up the pace and we followed its rhythm.

"You were not exaggerating when you said you ride well."

She remarked softly, her voice carrying just enough volume to be heard over the music.

"Your dancing is just as impressive, Leutnant"

“I believe I said as much.”

I countered with a smirk, though I felt my breath grow shorter.

She took note of it, tilting her head with amusement.

“Is the mighty cavalry officer losing his stamina?”

I scoffed in mock offense.

“I have fought in battles far more exhausting than this.”

“Yet, you are struggling to keep up with one woman?”

She bit her lip to suppress a giggle.

“I am merely pacing myself.”

I replied, feigning nonchalance.

“I believe you wholeheartedly, Leutnant.”

Her laughter made me laugh as well. It seemed to give me new energy to keep up with hers.

For several moments, we continued to glide across the floor without speaking, lost in each other's company. The rhythm of the music seemed to pulse between us, guiding our movements with effortless grace. Around us, the world dissolved into a blur of colors and sounds, leaving only the two of us beneath the golden glow of the chandeliers.

"You seem so certain of everything."

She suddenly said after a while, her tone playful yet tinged with genuine interest. She looked cute with her eyebrows slightly furrowed. Almost as if she thought about this for a long time and now had to ask me something, overwhelmed by her own curiosity.

"Is there nothing that makes you doubt yourself?"

I hesitated, caught off guard by the question. It wasn't one I expected from someone who, until recently, had been little more than a fleeting acquaintance. Yet, her sincerity made it impossible to dismiss or evade.

"There are many things."

I admitted finally.

"War teaches you uncertainty above all else. But here... with you..."

My voice trailed off, unsure how much to reveal.

"With me?"

She prompted gently, her gaze steady and encouraging.

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully.

"With you, I find myself wanting to believe in possibilities I might otherwise ignore. In peace, perhaps even happiness."

Her smile softened, becoming something deeper and more meaningful.

"And do you think those things exist for people like us?"

Before I could respond, the music shifted subtly, signaling the transition into a faster tempo. Our steps quickened accordingly, our bodies moving closer as we navigated the intricate patterns of the dance. For a time, no further words passed between us, only the shared understanding conveyed through glances and gestures.

As the minutes stretched on, the energy in the room grew palpable. Couples spun faster, their laughter rising above the music. Even Jisoo's movements became bolder, her confidence growing with every step. Watching her face light up with joy filled me with a sense of pride and awe. She carried herself with a natural elegance that belied her modest origins, drawing admiring glances from everyone around us.

"Do you enjoy this?"

I asked, unable to suppress a grin as she executed a particularly daring turn.

"I love it."

She replied, her voice breathless but full of enthusiasm.

"It feels… freeing, somehow. Like nothing else matters except this moment."

Her honesty struck a chord within me, resonating deeply with my own feelings. How often had I sought refuge in the saddle of a horse, finding solace in the rhythmic gallop beneath open skies? Here, in Jisoo's arms, I discovered a similar escape, one that promised not merely freedom but connection.

The music slowed once more, allowing us to catch our breath. As we resumed our slower pace, I felt the weight of her hand against my shoulder, the warmth of her presence grounding me.

"Tell me more about Joseon."

I urged, eager to learn more about the land she called home. As our connection kept growing, I couldn’t suppress the need to find out more about her.

"What is it like there?"

Her eyes lit up at the mention of her homeland, her smile widening as she spoke.

"It is beautiful."

She began, her voice rich with nostalgia.

"The mountains rise high, covered in pine trees that whisper secrets to the wind. And the rivers… they flow so calmly, reflecting the sky above like mirrors. People there live simple lives, centered around family and tradition. My father owns a small restaurant in Seoul, where he serves dishes passed down through generations. He believes food brings people together, and I think he's right."

Listening to her description, I found myself imagining the scenes she painted. A bustling city surrounded by verdant hills, its streets filled with vibrant colors and scents.

"It sounds wonderful."

I murmured sincerely.

"One day, I would love to visit."

"Then you must."

She said firmly, her gaze meeting mine.

"When the war ends, come to Joseon. Let me show you everything."

Her invitation warmed my heart, filling me with hope despite the uncertainties ahead. Before I could reply, however, the music ended abruptly, bringing our dance to a halt. Applause erupted throughout the hall, punctuated by cheers and laughter. Reluctantly, we parted, bowing to each other as custom dictated.

But as we straightened, I noticed a young man approaching us, his posture stiff and formal. His uniform marked him as a fellow officer, though I didn't recognize his rank or regiment. He bowed deeply before Jisoo, addressing her with exaggerated politeness.

"Fräulein."

He began, his voice smooth but lacking warmth.

"Would you honor me with the next dance?"

Jisoo glanced at me briefly, her expression apologetic.

"I fear I cannot."

She replied graciously.

"I am feeling a bit tired after such a long evening. Perhaps another time."

The man frowned slightly, clearly disappointed, but nodded nonetheless.

"Of course, Fräulein. My apologies for troubling you."

Once he had departed, I couldn't resist teasing her.

"Tired already? Are you sure you're not simply avoiding admirers?"

She shot me a playful glare, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.

"If I recall correctly, it was you who boasted about your stamina earlier tonight. Perhaps I'm simply testing whether you can keep up."

"Oh, is that what this is?"

I countered, feigning indignation.

"Well, allow me to prove you wrong. Shall we continue?"

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Not yet. Let us take a moment to rest first. Besides, I suspect Herr Lindemann might worry if we spend too much time away from him."

Relenting, I offered her my arm, leading her toward the refreshment tables where her relatives were standing nearby. We paused there, Jisoo sipping on a glass of wine and me drinking cognac, while watching the other couples twirl about the room. When Frau Lindemann showed interest in Jisoo’s evening so far, I tried not to listen. I caught my breath while looking around the hall. Now that I wasn’t gliding over the dance floor with her, everything suddenly seemed less vibrant. Less beautiful. The uniforms of the other soldiers, earlier shining and clean, now appeared stiff and confining, their polished buttons glaring under the chandeliers like badges of obligation rather than honor. The laughter of the guests no longer sounded joyful but forced, a brittle veneer masking the uncertainty of our times. Even the music, once enchanting, had taken on an edge, a reminder of how fleeting such moments could be.

I sipped my cognac slowly, letting its warmth settle in my chest as I scanned the room. It was all too easy to forget, here amidst the gilded splendor of Weißenfels, that just beyond these walls lay a world at war. A world where men fought and died for causes they barely understood, their lives reduced to mere statistics in reports sent back to distant capitals. And yet, the reality pressed upon me with relentless clarity: this fragile peace we shared tonight could shatter in an instant. One wrong move, one stray bullet, and it would all come crashing down.

My gaze drifted toward the windows, their panes reflecting the flickering candlelight. Outside, the night stretched vast and unknowable, a stark contrast to the carefully curated elegance inside. Somewhere out there, French patrols roamed the countryside, their presence a constant threat. Every step forward felt like walking on thin ice, knowing full well that one misstep could send you plunging into icy waters from which there might be no return.

Frau Lindemann’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me reluctantly back to the present. She was asking Jisoo about her family in Joseon, her tone polite but tinged with curiosity. Jisoo responded graciously, painting vivid pictures of her homeland with words alone. Her descriptions were rich and evocative, speaking of rolling hills blanketed in cherry blossoms, bustling markets alive with color and sound, and quiet evenings spent beneath starlit skies. Listening to her, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for a life simpler, freer, unburdened by the weight of duty and conflict.

But even as she spoke, I found myself wondering how long such dreams could endure. War had a way of consuming everything in its path, leaving little untouched. Could love survive when faced with the harsh realities of battle? Could two people, bound together by nothing more than stolen moments and whispered promises, truly weather the storm that loomed ahead?

The thought unsettled me, stirring unease deep within my chest. I glanced down at my glass, watching the amber liquid swirl lazily against the crystal. How ironic, I mused bitterly, that I should find myself questioning the permanence of anything while standing in the midst of such opulence. These grand halls, these elaborate costumes—they were all temporary, transient things, meant to distract us from the truth of our existence. Yet here I stood, clinging to them as though they offered some measure of safety, some guarantee of continuity.

Jisoo noticed my distraction and shot me a concerned look.

"Is everything alright?"

She murmured softly, leaning closer so only I could hear.

"I’m fine."

I replied quickly, forcing a smile. But the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Fine? No, I wasn’t fine. Not when every heartbeat reminded me of how precarious our situation truly was. Not when the knowledge that tomorrow might never come hung heavy over my shoulders.

She didn’t press further, instead turning her attention back to Frau Lindemann. But her hand brushed mine briefly, a subtle gesture meant to reassure. And for a moment, it worked. That single touch anchored me, grounding me in the present. If nothing else, I told myself, I could hold onto this fleeting connection, this shared understanding that transcended language and culture.

As the conversation wound down, I excused myself momentarily, stepping away from the group to clear my head. The air near the refreshment tables felt stifling, thick with the mingling scents of perfume and wine. Moving toward one of the large windows, I pushed open the heavy velvet drapes and stepped onto the balcony overlooking the garden. Cool night air greeted me, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. For the first time since arriving at the ball, I felt something resembling calm.

Still, the image of the battlefield lingered stubbornly in my mind. The smoke-filled air, the deafening roar of cannon fire, the cries of wounded men echoing across the fields. Each memory served as a grim reminder of the stakes involved. What right did I have to indulge in moments of happiness when others suffered unimaginable horrors? Wasn’t it selfish, even reckless, to allow myself to care so deeply for someone who might soon become another casualty of war?

And yet, despite these doubts, I couldn’t bring myself to regret meeting Jisoo. If anything, her presence gave meaning to what might otherwise have been a meaningless existence. In her, I saw hope, not blind optimism, but a quiet belief in the possibility of better days. She reminded me that even amidst chaos, beauty could still exist. That love, though fragile, could also be resilient.

Footsteps behind me announced her arrival before she spoke.

"You disappeared rather suddenly."

She said lightly, joining me on the balcony. Her breath misted in the cool air as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

"I needed a moment."

I admitted, offering her my coat. She accepted it gratefully, pulling it tightly around her slender frame.

"It’s strange."

I continued after a pause.

"Being here with you makes me realize how much of my life feels… forced. Like I’m playing a part written for someone else."

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything."

I gestured vaguely toward the hall behind us. "The uniform, the titles, the expectations. It’s all so rigid, so calculated. There’s no room for spontaneity, no space to simply be. But with you…"

My voice trailed off, unsure how to articulate the sentiment fully.

"With me, you feel free."

She finished softly, her dark eyes searching mine.

I nodded, struck by the accuracy of her words.

"Yes. With you, I feel free."

She smiled then, a small, wistful smile that spoke volumes.

"Perhaps that’s because freedom isn’t something we find outside ourselves. It’s something we create, however briefly, with those we choose to share it with."

Her wisdom humbled me, reminding me once again why she mattered so much. Despite not knowing her well, I felt this connection between us. Something which you don’t need words for.

Reaching out, I took her hand in mine, marveling at how perfectly it fit. This dark cloud of worry which suddenly overcame me was now slowly fading away again. I don’t know if one could call it love after meeting only a handful of times. But Jisoo does feel like the sun in my otherwise rain clouded life.

I felt Jisoo’s gaze linger on me for a moment before she turned away, seemingly shy yet unable to suppress a small smile.

"Do you think you can keep up if we return to the dance floor?”

She teased, slowly slipping my coat off her shoulders again. I could see in her eyes that she hated to see me in this state. The warm smile she gave me lifted my mood almost instantly.

"I believe I can manage."

I said with mock seriousness.

"But perhaps you should worry about your own stamina instead."

Her laugh was bright and infectious and it seemed to warm the cold night air. In that moment I didn’t care what might happen tomorrow. All that mattered was the woman standing beside me.

After a brief respite, we stepped back onto the floor for another dance. This time, the music was slower, more intimate. Our movements became less formal, our steps synchronized as though we had practiced them countless times before. With every turn, every glance, I felt the walls between us crumbling further, leaving only honesty and vulnerability.

As the final notes of the dance faded into silence, applause rippled through the hall. We parted, bowing to each other, but not intending to leave each other’s side. As we straightened, I saw the unspoken invitation in her eyes. An openness that called to me like a beacon.

Without another word, I offered her my arm.

"Would you care for some fresh air?"

She accepted with a gentle nod, and together we slipped out of the crowded hall, stepping into the cool night air. The moon hung low in the sky, its silver light bathing the cobblestone streets in a tranquil glow. A faint breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves, mingling with the distant aroma of pine from the nearby forest.

We walked silently for a while, our steps synchronized as though even here, away from the music, we were still dancing. The weight of the evening settled comfortably between us, neither too heavy nor too light. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but steady.

“I enjoy this.”

She admitted softly, looking up at the stars.

“Being here. With you.”

I took a slow breath, steadying the unfamiliar warmth in my chest.

“And I with you.”

She turned to face me then, her expression softer than before.

“What do you think your father’s land is like in the spring?”

I smiled at the sudden question.

“Green. Open fields stretching for miles, horses running free in the pastures. I think you would like it.”

She reached out, hesitating before placing her hand lightly over mine.

“Then one day, take me there.”

I took a step closer, close enough to hear her breath hitch.

“Jisoo.”

I murmured, her name unfamiliar yet effortless on my tongue.

She did not pull away. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

And then, without thinking, I closed the space between us.

Our lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss, filled with all the words we had not spoken. It only lasted seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

When we finally parted, she lingered close, her eyes searching mine.

“Leutnant.”

She whispered, a small smile on her lips.

I smiled back.

“Karl.”

I corrected gently.

She laughed softly.

“Karl.”

Her eyes focused on my lips for a moment, before she looked back up at me.

"Kiss me again."

This time, there was no hesitation, no doubt. Our lips met once more, softer than before, yet infused with the promise of something greater. A bond forged not just in fleeting moments, but in the shared struggles and triumphs of life itself.

As we stood there beneath the starlit sky, surrounded by the quiet beauty of Weißenfels, I knew one thing for certain: whatever the future held, I would face it with her by my side.

When we finally broke apart, Jisoo rested her head lightly on my shoulder.

For a long moment, we simply stayed there, lost in the magic of the night. The world seemed impossibly vast yet infinitely small, as though everything outside this moment faded into insignificance. And as the first hints of dawn began to paint the horizon, I realized with absolute clarity that Jisoo was not just a passing presence in my life. She was the reason I wanted to keep fighting, the light that guided me through the darkness. Even if tomorrow brought uncertainty, tonight belonged to us. And that, I decided, was enough.

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

You simply like to observe things. To pause and take in what’s happening. To merely exist, maybe. And Seongji finds that strange because you often stare at him.

Even when he’s doing mundane things like making kimchi or training his students—your children. It makes him self-conscious whenever you do that, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusting red, or he avoids your gaze altogether. But the gentleness in your eyes, the quiet love in your expression, never makes him question your intentions.

Not like the way crowds used to stare at him when he was...

“Teacher, what are we eating today?” Mary interrupts, the rest of the Cheonliang family already gathered at your doorstep.“The usual,” he replies.“No, that’s boring! Let’s try something new, everyone,” you insist.

And just like that, the room bursts with energy. Everyone’s excited, waiting eagerly as you start preparing japchae. It’s not something exotic, but it’s a nice change from the usual. Sujin and Seongji help out without hesitation.

“Vin, chew properly. No need to rush,” you chide gently.He opens his mouth to retort—but catches Seongji’s glare before he gets a word out, deciding not to choose death today.

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbles through mouthfuls of noodles.

“This boy will never learn,” you think, before your eyes drift to the man sitting beside him.Seongji looks content. Peaceful.Moments like these make you want to pause time and fold them carefully into your heart—so that come what may, these fleeting bits of joy and togetherness never slip away.

You’re doing it again, he thinks. Watching him.This time, he raises an eyebrow.

You just smile. Wide.

The kids, sensing they might be interrupting something important, shuffle awkwardly. Vin Jin makes a gagging noise, just for the drama.Mary, being the goddess she is, hauls him up by the waist, throws him over her shoulder, and heads out with the rest of them.

"Leaving so early? You can stay for dessert!"you call after them.They all mutter excuses—some needing to go early for one reason or another. You let them go. After all, they ate well.

You and Seongji are washing the dishes when he suddenly asks, “Is there something on my face?” “No, why do you ask?”His cheeks are flushed slightly, and he looks adorable.“I don’t know. You look at me like that sometimes... I thought something was bothering you.”

Bothering you—that he’s a monster of a man. That he has six fingers. That he’s a freak, a nuisance…

You kiss his cheek.

"No, not at all," you say, voice soft but sure. “You’re just beautiful. That’s all. I love to admire beauty.”

His eyes widen, not just at your actions, but your words.You finish the chores quietly, and then step outside to sit on the veranda.

“You’re weird,” he says, out of nowhere.You laugh. “What makes you say that?”

“What you said earlier.”

“Huh? But I meant it. Truly.”

He knows you did. But he still wants to ask why—though a part of him doesn’t want to question it, afraid the spell might break.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” you say gently. "If you can say something good about others, then others can say something good about you, too."

“And if it bothers you so much that I look at you... I’ll try to tone it down. But I can’t help it. You look so serene and happy, and it makes me happier just to see you that way.”

That makes sense, he guesses.He doesn't quite know how to respond, but he does, in the best way he knows.

“Come here,” he says, voice soft.

You lean into him eagerly, letting him hold you.Your embrace—like a balm to his aching soul.

And your Seongji—like an event horizon.You have to fight through darkness to see his light. But once you do, there’s love. So much love.

[roseandxanderfics]

"A Soft Touch in the Dark" - Klaus Mikaelson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Klaus is drawn to a sweet, shy girl who isn’t afraid of his darkness. Her innocent charm pulls him in, making him question everything he’s known. Will her soft heart be the one thing that saves him from himself?

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

The mansion’s grand chandelier sparkled overhead as Klaus Mikaelson stood by the window, his gaze sweeping across the darkened city. The sound of her soft steps on the marble floor was the only thing that interrupted his thoughts. He turned to find the reader standing by the door, fidgeting with the hem of her pale pink dress, her large eyes wide with nervousness.

She had been staying with him for a few days now, caught in the web of his mysterious world. Her innocence and natural beauty were like a breath of fresh air in his dark, twisted existence. He’d noticed how she always seemed to shy away from the chaos around her, often retreating into the quiet corners of the mansion, hugging her knees to her chest like a delicate, fragile flower.

“What brings you here, darling?” Klaus asked with a half-smile, his voice smooth and almost teasing, though there was something soft in his tone that he didn’t quite understand himself.

The reader hesitated, her fingers tugging at the ends of her pink ribbon. She gave a small, shy smile, barely meeting his eyes. “I—I thought I could bring you some tea... I know you’ve been... busy.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. A simple act of kindness—something he hadn’t experienced much in his long, immortal life. He hadn’t expected her to be so thoughtful, so endearing. It intrigued him.

“You know, I’m not accustomed to having tea brought to me,” Klaus murmured, stepping closer to her, his eyes flickering with amusement. “But, for you, I’ll make an exception.”

She blushed, lowering her gaze, but he could see the little spark of joy in her expression. Klaus could hardly recall a time when he’d seen someone so carefree, so untainted by the darkness that consumed his world. Her innocence was like a balm to his soul, a reminder of what he had lost—and perhaps what he could never truly have.

He reached out, gently lifting her chin so that their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. She was so soft, so sweet in her shyness, it was almost too much for him to resist.

“You’re different,” Klaus said, his voice low, though not with the usual edge of danger it often held. There was something uncharacteristically tender in the way he spoke. “I find myself... drawn to you.”

The reader swallowed, clearly unsure of how to respond, but she didn’t pull away from him. “I just want to help,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know you’re not a bad person... deep down.”

Klaus smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps. But I am dangerous, darling. And you, with your soft heart and gentle nature, are not made for the likes of me.”

Her gaze flickered to the floor, and her shoulders hunched slightly as she nervously tugged at the sleeve of her dress. “I—I'm not afraid of you, Klaus,” she said quietly, though her voice trembled.

For a moment, there was silence between them, thick with unspoken tension. Klaus let out a soft breath, the warmth of her words lingering in his mind. She wasn’t afraid of him—something no one had ever said to him in his centuries of existence. The words settled in him, stirring something far deeper than he cared to acknowledge.

Klaus gently cupped her face, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his gaze softening. “You’re far braver than you know,” he said, his voice carrying a tenderness that almost felt foreign to him. “But remember, darling... it is not only love that can destroy. In my world, there is also darkness. And I cannot protect you from it.”

She stepped closer to him, her hand lightly resting on his chest, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe it’s the darkness that needs to be protected from me.”

Her words took him by surprise, and for a moment, Klaus did nothing but stare down at her, as if the possibility of what she offered hadn’t quite registered. She was willing to accept him—the monster he was—without fear, with nothing but care and a quiet strength that seemed to pull him closer.

Klaus found himself wondering, for the first time in centuries, if maybe, just maybe, there was something worth saving. In her.

With a soft sigh, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gesture he hadn’t given anyone in years, if ever. “Perhaps you are the exception to the rule, my sweet girl.”

She smiled shyly, her cheeks pink with a mix of excitement and bashfulness. It was an innocent, pure smile—one that he would protect with everything he had, even if it meant facing the very darkness that he’d spent his life surrounded by.

As Klaus held her close, he knew one thing for certain—this girl, with her shy smile and soft heart, would be the reason he fought to keep his humanity intact. And no matter how dark the world got, he would never let her go.

[hynnxfxt]

˚✧₊⁎Stubborn Like a Puppy ⁺˳✧༚

A/n: hey guys so as you know I am the original creator of this story and I really happy that you guys really liked it and I was going to make more but somehow my account had gotten deleted so I made a new one this one. And I’m transferring everything that I had on that account onto this new one so I thank you all for the support and love and I hope that we can go long on this journey together!

Warning: fluff

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･* *･

Alucard had always been known for his elegance, his strength, and his unshakable demeanor. But if there was one thing that Y/N had learned about him, it was that he could be ridiculously stubborn over the smallest things.

It all started with something trivial—she couldn’t even remember how the argument had escalated. Perhaps it was about him over-exerting himself during training, or maybe it was the way he dismissed her concern with that infuriatingly calm tone of his. Either way, Alucard had decided he was right, and instead of talking it out, he had chosen to brood in silence for the entire day.

He ignored her completely—not in a cruel way, but in a way that was so obviously petty. He would walk past her with his nose slightly upturned, his golden eyes flicking away just as she tried to meet them. If she spoke, he’d respond with a hum or a brief nod, nothing more. Even when they sat across from each other at dinner, he barely acknowledged her existence, quietly eating as if he was the most dignified and righteous being in the world.

And honestly? Y/N found it adorable.

There was something undeniably cute about the way Alucard’s stubbornness manifested—his usual gracefulness replaced by a sulky, almost childish determination to prove his point. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed, and every time she so much as giggled, his ears twitched in the faintest hint of frustration.

She had tried to hold out, to match his stubbornness with her own, but how could she stay mad at him when he was this precious?

With a soft sigh, she finally decided to be the bigger person.

She approached him in his study, where he sat reading by candlelight, pretending to be engrossed in whatever ancient text lay before him. Y/N stepped closer, watching as he stubbornly refused to look up, his golden eyes fixed on the pages despite the fact that he hadn’t turned one in several minutes.

With a smirk, she leaned down, resting her arms on the desk, her face just inches from his. “Are you really going to ignore me all night?”

Silence.

She reached out and gently brushed a strand of his golden hair behind his ear, watching as his jaw tensed slightly. “Alucard,” she cooed, her voice laced with teasing affection, “you’re so cute when you’re being stubborn.”

That finally made him react. His eyes flicked up, narrowing just a fraction. “I am not being cute,” he muttered, the faintest pout tugging at his lips.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and before he could turn away again, she cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Alucard exhaled slowly, his pride visibly warring with the desire to just melt into her touch. After a long pause, he finally gave in, leaning ever so slightly into her hands. “You’re impossible,” he murmured.

“And you’re adorable,” she countered, brushing her thumb over his cheek.

A long silence stretched between them before, finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upward in reluctant amusement. He sighed, closing his book and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap. “You win,” he admitted against her shoulder, his voice muffled.

Y/N grinned, pressing another kiss to his temple. “Of course, I do. Now, let’s go to bed, you stubborn little puppy.”

Alucard groaned, but the way his arms tightened around her betrayed how much he loved her teasing—no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

[xoxovanillq]

WORLDS COLLIDE

i. meeting

Luke Castellan x f!reader

Warnings- Trust issues, Kissing, She/Her pronouns.

Word count- 1.5k

“Dude, have you seen the new girl yet?” Chris questions. Luke and him are sitting in their respective bunks in the Hermes cabin, taking the opportunity of an empty cabin to chat.

“No, not yet. Should I see her?” Luke responds, his tone inquisitive.

“Yeah, I mean, she’s like, exactly your type.” Chris replies, laying back in his bunk, turning his head to face Luke.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see her soon.” He replies, laying back in his bunk with a sigh.

You trudged into the Hermes cabin, exhausted, and ready to go to bed. It had been a long day, being the new kid at your age felt weird, especially with kids running around with more knowledge of this stuff than you. Everyone was somewhat nice, which was relieving, but no one  really caught your eye, well, until that night.

You laid in your bunk, looking up a bit to see a tall boy, dark curls falling into his face as he quietly studied you.

“You new?” He asks, his voice deep and rich, causing your heart to pound a small bit faster. The boy was pretty, tall, a little bit unsure of himself, but it was kinda cute.

“Mhm, was it that obvious?” You reply, your exhaustion convened through your voice.

“No, no! Not at all! Listen, uh, I’m Luke.” He says with a small smile, moving closer and extending his hand for you to shake.

“Y/N, and it’s all good.” You say, taking his hand and shaking it. You find yourself lingering in the warmth of his hand, reluctant to let go. When you release his hand, you smile softly, enjoying the small connection the two of you had made.

“Well, I should let you rest, but it was really nice to meet you.” He says, smiling as you nod, he then turns away, walking back to his bunk bed.

Luke’s heart pounded as he laid in bed that night, still thrilled after the excitement of your meeting. Chris had been right, you were his dream girl, perfect, exactly who he had always wanted. He couldn’t wait to see you again, to hear your voice, to see your glowing smile. He felt like a giddy schoolboy with a crush, desperate for your attention.

He dreamed of you that night, of holding your hand, guiding you through life at camp. He hadn't ever fallen for someone like this, so fast, so desperate for attention.

When he woke up that morning, he was still desperately excited to see you, wanting nothing more to see your smile yet again.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” He pipes up, sliding up beside you at the archery grounds. He didn't know why he bothered to check on your name, it had been in his thoughts for hours, ever since you told him.

“Yeah, it’s really good to see you again.” You emphasize the really, realizing that you may be starting to form a crush on the boy you had met only days ago.

“Yeah, yeah, um, you- you too.” God, he needed to get it together. He smiled, his heart warming as you smiled back. He watched you for a few minutes, looking at your aim. “Hey,” he suddenly piped up, “can I help you with your position a bit?”

“Oh, that would be amazing.” He quickly stepped up behind you, hands on yours as he moved your body little by little. His breath was hot on your neck, the smell of toothpaste, his shampoo, sun lotion, and sweat filled your nostrils, his own version of summer in a scent. It made you want to burrow your face into his neck, take in his musk.

“Alright, just aim, and shoot.” His voice brings you out of your dreamy haze. You shake your head a little, then release the arrow. He watches it soar through the air, hitting the target with precision. “Good job.” He praises, his voice light. making your insides heat up with both embarrassment and excitement.

“Thank you, really, you don’t know how much better you’ve made this all for me already.” You say with a light chuckle, all he could think about was how much better you had already made his life, just by existing.

“Hey, um, I know this is really random, but the lake, um, there’s a- a dock on it, and I wanna know if you’d want to go watch the sunset on it? Like, with me?” His heart pounds in his chest as he speaks. He was so scared to be rejected, maybe it was lingering fear, that finally trusting something would backfire on him.

“I- I’d actually love to, um, would it just be us?” You ask timidly, fearing that your feelings would be revealed too much, scaring him off.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you and all.” He replies, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Dude, you actually scored a date with her? She’s been here for like, 3 days, and all the guys are already on her.” Chris said after Luke had relayed the events of your encounter.

“Yeah, I think she’s into me too, I mean, she checked to see if we’d be alone, so that’s a score.” He says with a light chuckle before taking a bite of his dinner. He looked up to see you chatting excitedly with a few girls you had made friends with. It made him happy to see you happy, especially with your new friends.

“Just keep her close, all the other guys here would pounce on her in a heartbeat.” Chris adds, unknowing of how this seemed to spike Luke’s trust issues. He tried to push the thought away, but it was always there, lingering in the back of his head, even as he got ready to meet you.

There he sat, about 15 minutes before sunset, on the dock, fluffing his curls up while waiting for you. He hadn’t dressed up much, just wearing cargos and a black hoodie considering that it would get chilly as the sun went down. His jaw almost dropped when he saw you walk up. You wore a lace cami, pink with lace trim and a little bow, along with light wash, flared jeans.

“Holy shit, you are making feel really under-dressed. You look stunning.” He commented, eyes fixed on the way your eyes seemed to sparkle, even in the low light, as you took your seat beside him.

“I didn’t know what the dress code was for this, so I figured dressing nice would be the better option.” In all reality, you were hoping he’d give you his hoodie at some point in the night. “You look nice too, I mean, you always do.” You say softly, a blush forming across your face as you did.

“Thanks, thanks, uh, can I- is it okay- is it okay if I hold your hand?” He asks tentatively, the way he stumbles over his words makes your heart flutter a bit.

“Yeah, of course.” Your voice is low and quiet, you reach out to take a hold of his hand, shifting a bit closer to him, shoulder pressed to his. Your head leans a bit, and he nods, as if giving you approval to put it in his shoulder. The two of you sat there for a little while in silence, watching the colors of the sun set over the lake. Rich oranges and cotton candy pinks reflected on the lake’s surface. Luke could feel you shiver slightly, and it gave him an idea.

“Hey, if you’re cold, you can have my hoodie.” He offers, looking into your eyes. God, he loved your eyes, all the different colored specks, he could get lost in them forever.

“Oh, yeah, um, if it isn’t too much trouble.” You respond, almost shyly. He quickly takes his hoodie off, his shirt pulling up a bit, giving you a tantalizing glance at his abs. He hands it to you with a smile, and before you put it on, you reach over to fix his curls, now a bit messy.

Luke couldn’t believe this was happening, I mean, he was laying on the dock, watching the sunset with you, you were wearing his sweatshirt, and he was pretty sure you felt the same way about him. As the sun finally set, the stars coming out to light up the sky, he finally decided to make his move.

“Listen, I might be reading this wrong, but I really like you, and-” You cut him off, your lips finally pressing to his. Luke’s body melted, one hand going to your waist, the other to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. He wanted to be as close to you as possible, to melt into you, to burrow inside your heart and live there forever. He almost panicked when you pulled away, clutching your waist in a desperate attempt to keep you close. You just giggled, settling with your head in his lap.

“I think you’ve got your answer, Castellan.”

[6ix9inewiturmom]

She Ours- Christopher and Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: you’re at an LA party and both chris and matt find you attractive…

Warnings: SUMT, THREESOME(not the weird kind ya freaks), P in V, Unprotected (please don’t reproduce), Dom!Matt!Chris, Sub!Reader, Squirting, Oral (M and F Receiving), PARIS (iykyk)

A/N: THIS IS BASED OFF OF P POWER BY GUNNA FT DRAKE 😫😫 ENJOY

My friend Lina was one of the biggest party girls I knew, every weekend was some party she heard about through the grapevine, which typically because I don't get out much she insisted on dragging me out of my house.

“This party better be worth it” I snap walking down the staircase of my shared house with Lina. She let me borrow her outfit: A skintight black dress that barely covered my ass, her adorable red bottom heels, and my jewelry.

“Girl you have the possibility of getting LAID tonight, let's not complain,” she stops to gasp “Maybe if you get laid you'll stop being so bitchy” she jokes.

“Lina you realize you're like the female version of a player right?” I laugh as we walk out of the house together.

As she fastens her seatbelt and starts reversing the car out of the driveway, she responds with a gentle smile, "No, I'm not. I love everyone."

“That's the problem” I chuckle.

Driving on the highway we had our hype music blasting through the speakers of the car, Lina breaks the silence, “When is the last time you actually had a dick?”

I about choked on air when I heard her invasive question, we were best friends so TMI didn't exist in our relationship considering we've known each other since we were 2 years old in daycare, but I was more or less caught off guard. “um I’d have to say probably since I went off the rails and impulsively joined Tinder and had that horrible hookup with that guy. Um shit, what's his name? OH YES TYLER” I laughed reminiscing the times.

“BITCH” she jokingly yells stomping on the brakes at the red light sending my whole body jerking forward. “That was 2 years ago” she whispers

“Yeah but like that man was weird as fuck, so I just thought maybe a guy who wanted to fuck would just pop out of the blue somewhere I don't know, you're a lot better at this than I am” I shrug getting almost embarrassed.

“oh my god, bitch this isn't the 80s you need to catch a dick” We both laugh at her commentary “But let's not catch STDs” her voice trails off as i try to contain my laughter.

After a lengthy journey, we finally reached the venue. As we pull into the parking lot, we are greeted by the sound of vibrant and lively music reverberating through the air. As we stepped out of the car and made our way inside, we were immediately engulfed by the dim, flashing lights and vibrant colors illuminating the area, accompanied by the pulsating beats of loud music that reverberated through the space.

“BITCH I LOVE THIS SONG” Lina yells over the loud music and dragging me to the lit up squared boxes where the song Maneater by Nelly Furtato is playing.

My hips move around to the song, not a care in the world who sees me but alas I nervously look around and see two pairs of crystal blue eyes practically drooling over me. One with slightly longer hair than the other and the other with a tatted arm but they both look the same.

“Y/N” Lina yells over the loud music “YOUR LOOKING A LITTLE TOO HARD” she continues

“Those guys over there keep looking at me” I lower my tone a little trying not to make a scene “They’re kinda cute” I softly smile carefully taking my bottom lip between my teeth and watching them talk amongst each other.

“BOTH?” Lina's eyes widen

“I mean why not?” I shrug my shoulders laughing

“They look like brothers which I mean is kinda attractive” Lina Replies “Just not that weird threesome Shit I'm talking about that trip to Paris if you know what I mean” she smirks shimming her shoulders

“Oh shit” my eyes widen “fuck they're coming over here, WHAT DO I DO LINA”

“Just act normal and if shit gets weird to remember to text me ‘Lemon Jelly Belly’ and ill find a way to get you out of there” Lina smiles as she walks over to the bar to flirt with the bartender

My nerves were heightened to the max watching the boys walk towards me, one of them had this coxky aura about himself and the other seemed nervous but still confident.

“Hello beautiful” the longer-haired one walks towards me coming behind me.

The one with the tatted arm comes in front of me, his smile turns into a smirk as I find my bottom lip in my teeth again.

“I'm Matt, and this is Chris” Matt said smirking down at me.

“We just couldn't help ourselves when we saw the way your hips moved and danced to the music,” Chris says whispering in my ear smirking.

“Thanks for asking my name, I’m Y/N” I snap jokingly

“That's such a pretty name,” Matt says placing his hand on my face and caressing my cheek

My hips started moving to the song softly as Matts's hands made their way to my hips as Chris’ was planted on my ass.

“Can I?” Chris asks as he moved the hair on my neck and became closer to my neck.

“Mhm,” i mumble

“Use your words, sweetheart, Can he?” Matt smirks down at me.

“Y-Yes” i stutter.

“Good girl” Matt’s smirk remains on his face as Chris kisses my neck and immediately finds that sweet spot on my neck sending chills down my spine.

“Why don't we do this In a little less crowded area hm?” Chris suggests

“I don't mind” I softly giggle

“Chris, how are we doing this? We gonna flip a coin to see who gets her first or what?” I could tell Matt was a little antsy and irritated by his brother's greediness.

“She ours,” Chris tells his brother.

Matt’s smirk became more apparent as soon as Chris said those words. Chris grabs my hand as and he guides me up a set of stairs and Matts hands remains on my ass. My eyes meet Linas and to say the least I've never seen her more proud of me. Her eyes are wide and her smile is wider. She's holding up her thumbs nodding her head in approval.

the room was dark, but very warm and had lots of room, the bed had silk sheets, and a lot of posters. “Do you guys know whose room this is anyway?” I nervously chuckle out.

“Happens to be my room” Matt speaks with a laugh

Chris comes behind me moving my hair to kiss that sweet spot on my neck again this time leaving dark purple marks on my neck. Matts's gaze softens as his eyes darken with lust watching how my body reacts to Chris’ mouth against my neck. Matt comes closer to me looking at my eyes first then my lips and sending me a soft but seductive smile before he presses his lips against mine. A soft moan escaped my lips causing him to pull back and smirk.

“Fuck I wanna rip this dress off of you,” Chris says with a husk in his voice practically groaning.

Matt presses the pad of his thumb against my lip running it across my bottom lip. “I just wanna put this pretty mouth to good use” he smirks.

Before Matt could do anything Chris picked me up and threw me on the bed looking in Matt's direction with a smirk.

“Sorry ma I really couldn't help myself” he softly chuckles positioning himself between my legs and rubbing softly up and down “May I?” Chris questions while playing with the bottom of my dress

“Be my guest” I smile looking down at his blue eyes glaring down at my clothed pussy with a small wet patch from my neediness of getting dicked down.

Chris moves my dress up to my mid-thighs and slides my underwear to the side diving right in like it was his last meal on planet earth. Matt on the other hand was too impatient and hard to wait, he removed his belt and his pants and kneeled on the bed beside me stroking his throbbing hard cock beside my face and rubbing his tip along my bottom lip teasing my mouth, finally he grips my jaw signaling to open wider as he slides his cock in my mouth thrusting ever so slightly, watching me please him and get pleasured by his brother.

Chris’ tongue laps around my clit, as my moans r muffled by Matts's cock being shoved so far down my throat.

“Fuck” Matt groans “Prettiests of mouths do the sluttiests of things” he praises as he wipes the tears that started forming in my eyes from the overstimulation.

“You're clenching around my tongue ma, you close?” Chris sadistically chuckles around my pussy.

“Mhm,” I muffle out around Matts's cock desperately in need to release built-up tension.

“Why don't you be a good girl and cum for Chris yeah?” Matt coos as he's thrusting his hips in my throat while having my hair in a makeshift ponytail.

My legs tremble and shake around Chris’ head signaling to him how close I am. “That's it baby” Matt's voice becomes husked.

Chris groans around my clit as his tongue laps around it feeling my cervix spasm over the overstimulation and pleasure that he knows he's giving me. The pent-up knot in my abdomen snaps sending me in a wave of euphoria, my eyes roll back, and my legs shake. Matt trusts into my mouth a couple more times before finishing in my mouth, placing his hand on my throat to feel mg swallowing all of him.

“Such a good girl” matt coos at me with my lips still wrapped around his cock.

He gently pulls out and walks over to Chris who's smiling down at me wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The boys talk amongst each other talking about how they'll share me.

Matt walks over between my thighs biting his lip. “Sweetheart I don't have a condom,” he says almost nervously.

“I'm on the pill,” I smiled up at him as his eyes lit up at my response.

He brings his hand to my mouth “Spit” he demands and I obey.

He uses my spit to coat his dick as my eyes roam from Matt to Chris who moves to place himself behind me placing kisses on my neck.

Matt aligns himself at my entrance pushing slowly. “Oh fuck” I moan out as my back arches off of Chris and my hands grip his for support.

He pushes himself further, completely bottoming out letting a loud groan fall from his lips and his head throwing back “fuck baby, you feel so fucking good” he smiles devilishly as he watches my body react to His movements.

his thrusts become harder and rougher. “god damn” he groans out almost at a whimper. “fuck your pussy was fucking made for me” he looks down to watch himself thrust in and out of me as he notices a bulge in my stomach from him and he smirks and presses down.

“Fuck” I scream out.

Both Matt and Chris smirk and look up at each other “Someone likes that eh?” Chris whispers in my ear using his hand and pulling and twisting at my nipples.

Matt pressed harder on my stomach watching my face contort in pleasure. “Such a fucking whore” matt groans out.

“C-C-C-LOSE” I stammer out.

“I can feel you squeezing my dick so fucking good, let it out baby” he coos not switching up his pace or his movements one bit.

Chris’ hand snakes around my throat giving slight pressure to the sides making me see more than just stars. “Cum for Matt baby, come on you can do it ma” Chris praises in my ear.

A loud squeal escaped my lips as my orgasm hit me like a train and I squirted my juices all over Matt and his abdomen. “There she is” Matt lets a low chuckle out from him. “Hold on for a second sweetheart, you can take it”

His thrusts got sloppy as I became jello in Chris's arms, with one final thrust Matt painted my pink gummy walls white coating them with all of his cum.

“Fucking hell” matt breaths out.

“You did so good” Chris praises, “can you take one more ma?” he smirked up at matt.

My body was tired but alas I nodded with a tired smile. Matt moved to where Chris was but Chris had other ideas, he used my ankles to flip me up so my ass was in the air and my stomach lay flat on the mattress. Chris used his precum and spread it around his dick before aligning himself with my sensitive entrance and bottoming out quickly.

“Fuck chris” i moan out trying to move forward but Chris stopped me by placing his hands on my waist pinning me down to the mattress.

“Someone a little sensitive hm? Can't take me, can you?” he chuckled sadistically.

I bit my lip to muffle my own screams of pleasure. “I-I- I can take it-“I was cut off by Chris absolutely pounding into me like there was no tomorrow hitting spots I didn't know was even possible.

Skin slapping and moans were the only sounds bouncing off the walls. “I ain't gonna last long ma, you're clenching me so fucking good” he groans out forcing my head into the mattress.

“CLOSE” I scream out.

“Come on sweetheart, be the good girl you were for me and cum for Chris yeah?” Matt is positioning himself so he can brush some of the hair out of my face.

Matts's gentle words sent me over the edge and once again, I squirted all over Chris sending him into a state of euphoria and cumming on the spot inside of me filling me up with his seed.

I immediately collapse laying flat on the bed out of breath. Matt ran into his bathroom connected to his room and grabbed a warm cloth to clean up my legs as Chris whispered sweet nothings into my ear about how good I did for both of them.

“You doin’ okay love?” Matt says softly wiping my legs.

“Mhm,” I mumble out.

They chuckle as Matt throws a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt for me to put on. In my attempt to stand up, my legs gave out.

“Don't tell me you can't walk?” Chris chuckles

“Try to be in my position and see how you feel” I joke making them chuckle.

“Okay okay Chris enough taunting,” Matt says guiding the shirt over my head and helping me get changed.

Chris helped me get my pants on while talking to me about random stuff like 7/11 Bring Your Own Slurpee Day that he didn't know existed and Matt rolled his eyes.

“We just took her ability to walk and change herself i doubt she wants to hear about Slurpee day Chris” matt says carrying me bridal style to sit down on his bed.

Suddenly someone barges into the room obviously drunk. “Wait this isn't the bathroom” it was Lina who immediately saw me and started winking and throwing her thumbs up seeing me curled into bed and in someone elses clothes.

“Who the fuck are you? Get out!” Chris yells “Bathrooms downstairs” he gently closes the door.

“That was Lina…” I shyly say covering my face.

“Who?” they say in unison

“Lina my best friend since we were two, she's the reason I came” I laughed softly.

“yo…you think she heard anything,” Chris says bluntly scratching the back of his head.

“She's weird but not that weird. She's obviously drunk so she'll forget it by morning if she did anyway” I brush it off, and I pat the empty side of the bed for Chris to join Matt and me on the bed where I'm in the middle of both of them.

“You wanna watch anything? I'll let you pick?” Matt says handing me the remote and smiling.

“Wha- bro you never let me pick anything when I’M in your room” Chris whines.

“Shut up” matt laughs in response.

“Yall ever seen gossip girl?” I smirk at both of them

“Nope,” they both say popping the ‘P’

“YAY okay so we gonna watch it and if you have any questions feel free to ask” I smirk getting cozy and comfy in the silk sheets pressing play on the the TV.

“Why am I scared?” Chris says leaning over and whispering at me.

“Shut up and watch” I snap playfully.

HI LOVERS!! im so sorry for not posting this!! ive had writers block and i’ve been on vacation with my family visiting my home town and i haven’t really had time to write or do anything on this fic!! but i hope you guys enjoy it and i love you and thank you for your patience!!

XOXO,

Gabs 🩷

Sjendje