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bluebeary-jay · 1 year ago

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Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You��re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…�� Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #young joel miller #sarah miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

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candyeager · 5 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

— sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

PART TWO 10.1k words

short summary. in which your heartbreak over Mikey pulls you into the dangerous and irresistible orbit of Bonten's Number Two, Haruchiyo Sanzu. warnings. sanzu haruchiyo is his own warning, graphic violence, substance abuse, toxic/manipulative relationships, explicit sexual content, depression & self-destructive behaviour, strong language. tags. female reader insert, bonten au, tsundere!sanzu, ex-boyfriend!mikey, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, heavy pining/yearning.

masterlist

Manjiro Sano never hurts you—not physically, at least—though the emotional havoc he's wreaked has left you unraveling. But what you face now is something entirely different.

Haruchiyo Sanzu's grip is iron-clad, dragging you away from Mikey's door with no regard for your protests. His fingers dig into your wrist like vices, the pressure biting deep into your skin until the pain is sharp and throbbing. It radiates up your arm, but even that ache is dull compared to the hollow devastation gnawing at your chest. The image of Mikey with her—so close, so intimate—burns behind your eyelids every time you blink.

It's as though the world around you has ceased to exist. You can't even register the hallways passing by as Sanzu hauls you through them, his erratic pace nearly causing you to stumble. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, powerless, your heart beating out of sync with reality.

Kakucho's voice filters through the numbness. "Sanzu... what are you doing?"

There's concern in his tone, but he stays planted where he is, as if crossing that line would be dangerous.

Sanzu doesn't slow, doesn't even glance at him. His lips curl into a sneer as cold as the concrete walls.

"Taking care of a stray," he bites, yanking you closer as though you might slip from his grip.

The words sting, but not as much as what follows.

Kakucho's frown deepens, but he's hesitant. "You sure you wanna do that? She's—"

Sanzu cuts him off, sharp and merciless. "She's nothing. A nobody. Mikey made that pretty fucking clear, didn't he?"

Nothing. A nobody.

Each word hits you with the force of a physical blow. Whatever you were to Mikey, whatever you thought you had—it's been ripped away, stripped down to these ugly truths.

You're nothing now.

Kakucho's gaze flickers to you, sympathy and uncertainty mingling in his dark eyes. But you can't meet them. You drop your head, staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers you need. Maybe if you don't look, you won't have to acknowledge what Sanzu just said. Maybe you can pretend you didn't hear it.

Mikey doesn't want you anymore.

"Stop this," Kakucho urges, stepping forward now, his movements careful, deliberate. "You're high. This isn't going to end well, you know that."

Sanzu's eyes snap up, wild and feral, like a predator guarding its kill. "Exactly." His voice drops to a venomous whisper. "So back the fuck off before I kill you too."

The tension between them is palpable, but Kakucho eventually steps back, his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger. He's seen what Sanzu is capable of when he's in this state. They all have.

"Just don't go too far," Kakucho mutters, his voice tight, his eyes flicking to you one last time before he steps aside. His reluctance lingers, but in the end, he's still letting you be dragged away.

Ran, sprawled lazily on the couch, barely lifts his head as he calls after Sanzu. "Mission's at nine. Try not to be dead before then."

Sanzu pays no mind to either of them. His grip tightens, and you're dragged deeper into Bonten's labyrinthine corridors, every step taking you further from any hope of intervention.

He pulls you into a small room, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle your bones. A click follows—the lock sliding into place—and you're alone. Alone with him.

The room is stark, clinical, a conference table dominating the space with its polished wood surface and neatly lined chairs. But there's nothing neat about what's happening now. The moment Sanzu shoves you against the table, hard enough that the edge bites into your lower back, the sterile, formal atmosphere of the room is obliterated.

His hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your throat. The pressure is immediate, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurs at the edges. You gasp instinctively, hands flying to his wrist, nails scraping against his skin, but he's too strong. His hold tightens further, cutting off more of your air, and panic grips you.

He leans in, his breath hot against your face, laced with the stench of drugs. His expression is wild, unhinged, pupils dilated and blown wide with intoxication. But beneath the drugs, there's something else—an anger, a bitterness that has nothing to do with you, but is aimed at you all the same.

"Now..." His voice is low, almost a growl. "What the fuck do I have to do to make you understand that you don't belong here?"

Your lungs burn, your head spinning as your fingers claw at his hand. I don't belong here? The thought pierces through your fog of fear. Maybe he's right. You're not sure of anything anymore—not after Mikey, not after what you saw.

You can't breathe, and everything is turning dark. Sanzu's face, his mocking grin, is the only thing in focus.

Tears well up, spilling over your lashes. But you're not crying because of the physical pain. It's the emotional torment that's killing you. The crushing realization that you are utterly, completely alone. No one's coming to save you.

Sanzu watches as you choke on your own sobs, and he laughs, low and cold. "Already crying?" he mocks. "I haven't even started yet."

But the tears won't stop. The dam inside you breaks, and you're gasping, sobbing uncontrollably in front of him. You can't take it anymore. Not this. Not after what Mikey's done to you.

"Just..." You choke on the words, your voice broken and hoarse. "Just fucking kill me already."

For a moment, there's silence. Then, his grip on your neck loosens just enough to let you breathe. You gasp, sucking in precious air, coughing as your lungs fight for life. But the relief is short-lived.

Sanzu's face hovers inches from yours, his smirk growing, eyes gleaming with dangerous amusement. "Kill you?" His tone is soft now, condescending. "Nah. That's too easy."

His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, rough, possessive. "I think I'd rather play with you a little longer."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands pressing against your face as tears continue to spill down your cheeks. This feels so stupid. So, so stupid. Mikey's across the hall with his wife, living his perfect life, while you're stuck here with Sanzu—his insane, drugged-up number two.

What a fucking downgrade.

Suddenly, without warning, Sanzu grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look up at him through your tear-filled eyes.

"You're pathetic," he sneers before crushing his lips against yours.

The kiss is brutal, possessive, and filled with an overwhelming heat that makes your skin crawl. You try to push him away, but his weight presses you into the table, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. It's suffocating, just like his grip on your throat.

And then you taste it. Something bitter and foreign sliding past your lips. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what he's doing.

He pulls back, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "Swallow."

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. No way. You're not going to swallow that. You try to spit it out, but his hand clamps down over your mouth, smothering any attempt to resist.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he murmurs, his tone soft but filled with menace. "Be a good girl... and swallow."

His words slither into your ears, so sweet and venomous all at once, poisoning what little willpower you have left. You want to fight him. You want to scream and tear away from him, but you can't. Your body is too sluggish, too weak to resist, and part of you doesn't want to.

It wants him to be right.

It's easier, isn't it? To let him take control. To stop resisting and just give in, let the numbness wash over you. Maybe then the pain of everything—of Mikey, of the betrayal, of this twisted mess—will fade, even just for a moment.

"I said swallow," Sanzu hisses, his patience thinning. "That. Shit."

You finally swallow the pill, the bitterness lingering on your tongue like a promise you'll regret. The drug settles deep inside you, blooming warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire, but there's no comfort in it. It only intensifies the chaos swirling in your mind��the betrayal, the loss, the desire to escape. It all collides in a sickening wave, leaving you gasping, clinging to the edge of the table as your body betrays you.

Sanzu watches you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl, his eyes dark, wide, and hungry. He's waiting. Waiting for the drug to take hold, waiting for you to crumble.

"Good girl," he breathes, and the words slide over your skin, soft and menacing. His gaze lingers, tracing every tremor in your body, every stifled breath.

The drug spreads quickly—too quickly. The next thing you know the room is spinning violently, the floor tipping beneath your feet, and you're stumbling as warmth floods your limbs. You try to steady yourself, but your body feels too light, too hot, like you're floating, disconnected from reality. Your breath quickens, panic swelling in your chest as your senses sharpen, every touch, every sound amplified to unbearable levels.

Sanzu's hands are still on you, his touch electric, sending jolts through your skin. You gasp, your heart racing as the euphoria spreads, tangling with the devastation inside you, turning everything into a dizzying blur of sensation. You can barely breathe, and yet, in the haze of it all, a part of you is aware of his gaze, watching you intently, reveling in your reaction.

"How does it feel? Hmm?" His voice is low, almost a purr, and you can feel his breath against your ear as he leans in closer.

"First time's always the best." He laughs, a quiet, sinister sound that rattles through your bones. "You'll feel good soon... or maybe you'll just cry harder. Who knows?"

You choke on a sob, the tears spilling over as the drug overtakes you, drowning you in heat and haze. Your body feels foreign, your mind too foggy to comprehend anything other than the intensity of it all. You want to fight it, fight him, but there's nothing to hold on to—nothing but him.

And that terrifies you.

"Let go," he murmurs. "Let it take over... Forget about him. Forget everything. Just feel."

Your body acts before your mind can catch up, your hand clutching the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. It's an instinctual, desperate motion, driven by something deep inside—a need for warmth, for something to hold on to. You can't explain it, but you crave him now, the heat of his body, the solidity of his presence. You pull him closer, though you don't even understand why, though it feels all wrong.

"Look at you..." Sanzu's chuckle is dark, amused. "Hanging onto me like a lost puppy."

But he leans in anyway, his breath brushing against your neck as he speaks. His proximity feels like a lifeline, shielding you from the blinding lights that seem to intensify with every passing second. The room tilts, but his voice anchors you, even as it weaves dirty, degrading things in your ear—things that make your stomach twist, yet ignite something you don't want to acknowledge.

Your heart races, breath coming in ragged bursts. Everything is too intense—his touch, his words, the sensation of your body betraying you. You don't understand this feeling, this mixture of euphoria and humiliation. It's confusing, overwhelming, and yet, you can't shake the craving. The need for more.

His touch, his heat.

Then, without warning, he steps back.

The sudden absence of him is like a cold slap to the face, leaving you breathless and cold. Your body aches for the warmth he took with him, for the closeness that you didn't even know you craved. You hate it. You hate the emptiness he leaves behind.

He adjusts his waistcoat with a casual smirk, like this was all just a game to him, like your unraveling was just another form of entertainment.

"You're on your own now," he says, his voice detached, distant. "Enjoy the ride."

And just like that, he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You're left sprawled across the table, the world spinning, lights burning into your skull. Your limbs are heavy, useless, and you try to move, to escape the overwhelming heat and dizziness suffocating you, but your body won't cooperate. You tumble to the floor, the carpet catching your fall with a soft thud.

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, though you don't know why. Everything feels distant, like you're floating, detached from reality. The warmth of the drug mingles with the cold ache of abandonment, creating a disorienting swirl of emotions that you can't make sense of.

And so you lie there, lost in the haze, your body sinking deeper into the plush floor as the laughter fades, leaving only the hollow emptiness behind.

Until, finally, the world pulls you into the darkness of sleep.

Manjiro Sano never cheated on you before. You've known him for nine years—nine long years where loyalty was never questioned, not once. He's never strayed, never looked at another woman the way he looks at you. That was the truth you clung to through all the chaos, the violence, the bloodshed. But tonight, the foundation of that truth crumbles before your eyes.

When you catch him with his wife, it's not exactly cheating, is it? Not when she's the one wearing the ring. Not when she's the one he made vows to. And yet, it feels like betrayal. If anything, you're the other woman now. Your position, the one you held so dearly, has shifted, without your consent.

He's the one betraying her, not you. But that logic doesn't make the pain any easier to bear. It still cuts deep, searing through you with what you had just witnessed in Mikey's office. You thought you were strong enough to endure it, thought you could compartmentalize the ache gnawing at your insides. You were wrong. The sight of them together burns itself into your mind like a wound that refuses to heal.

Until Sanzu forced that pill down your throat.

The memory floods back, vivid and suffocating. His twisted grin, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel so helpless. But now? Now you feel the strangest relief. The aching wound in your chest—the one Mikey and his wife carved out—fades into a distant blur, replaced by a creeping, unnatural numbness. Your mind is hazy, clouded, but in that haze, you find comfort.

The world felt kinder in that numbness. And for a moment, you were almost grateful for the relief Sanzu gave you. Almost.

When you wake up, the high is gone, leaving behind a pounding headache and a body that feels stiff, heavy, like someone drained the life from you. The floor feels strange under your hands, cold and unfamiliar. You blink, trying to orient yourself, and realize you're not on the floor anymore. Someone moved you—you're sprawled across the couch in the executive lounge, a blanket thrown haphazardly over you like an afterthought.

Your body screams in discomfort, muscles sore, your skin aching where his hands had pressed too hard. But the pain is secondary to the memories—Sanzu. That damn pill. The way he—

"You're awake."

The voice cuts through the fog in your mind, and your head snaps to the side. Mikey sits in a chair not far from you, the dim light casting shadows across his face. He's watching you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are different. Tired.

The night stretches behind him through the window, a dark sky lit by city lights. The office is quiet. Everyone else is gone. Even Sanzu.

It's just you and Mikey now.

You don't answer him. The ache in your chest resurfaces, sharper this time, suffocating as the image of him and his wife flashes in your mind again. It hits harder now, with Mikey sitting right in front of you, looking at you.

You push yourself up, your body swaying under the weight of exhaustion and leftover dizziness. Your throat is sore, bruised, where Sanzu's fingers had pressed too hard, too rough, forcing. You reach up instinctively, wincing at the tenderness, and you catch Mikey's gaze drop to your neck.

His jaw clenches. The air between you shifts—heavy, tense.

"He won't touch you again."

His voice is low, soft, but there's a dangerous edge beneath it, one that sends a chill through your veins. You know that tone. It's the tone he uses before someone dies.

You swallow, the reality sinking in. What has Mikey done? What did he do to Sanzu? The thought twists in your gut, unease settling deep inside you, but part of you pushes the thought away. Sanzu deserves whatever he gets, doesn't he? After what he did?

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Forget about that... He gave me something. A pill."

Mikey's face shifts, unreadable for a moment, then he shrugs. "A pill? X, probably. He does that sometimes. Are you alright?"

That makes sense. No wonder you passed out so quickly. But it doesn't ease the anger boiling inside you, doesn't take away the humiliation of letting Sanzu drag you deeper into his twisted games when you were already at your lowest.

"I'm fine," you bite out, though it feels like a lie.

Fine? You're far from fine.

The words hang in the air, sharp, bitter, and when you look at Mikey, the ache in your chest becomes unbearable. You're not sure if it's anger or heartbreak that makes it so hard to breathe.

"Mikey..." you begin again, your voice cracking slightly, the words lodged in your throat. It's harder than you thought to say it, because once it's out, there's no taking it back.

"We can't just pretend like nothing's changed."

He doesn't look at you at first. He just stares at the floor, his jaw clenched tight, as though he's trying to force himself to say something, but can't. The silence stretches on painfully before he finally speaks, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"I know things are different." Each word sounds forced, like it's taking every ounce of strength for him to admit it. "But..."

Your heart clenches, your breath catching in your throat. There's always a 'but' with him, isn't there? Always some excuse, some reason why things can't go back to the way they were.

"But what, Mikey?" you ask, unable to stop yourself. It's not anger that drives you this time, but the desperation clawing at your insides. "You have feelings for her now, don't you?"

You watch him as he exhales slowly, his face still calm, almost detached. You wish he would say something, anything, to ease the ache in your chest. But he doesn't.

"I do," he says, his voice distant. It's a confession that feels like a knife to your heart. "I can't deny that. She's... she's gonna have my kid. It's not simple anymore."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew it, deep down, but hearing him say it aloud makes it real in a way you weren't prepared for. The sharp, bitter taste of betrayal lingers in the back of your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions from spilling over, but your voice wavers when you speak again.

"And us?"

The question slips out, soft and fragile, but it cuts deeper than anything you've said before. You're asking about more than just your relationship—you're asking about the nine years you gave him, about the promises he made, about the love you once believed was unbreakable.

Mikey's eyes finally meet yours, and for a brief moment, you see the boy you once knew—the boy who swore he'd never leave you, who promised you forever under the stars when you were both too young to understand what that meant. His gaze softens for a second, a flicker of something almost tender, almost apologetic.

"I still care about you," he says, his voice low but steady. There's no hesitation in his tone, no doubt. But it's not the answer you were hoping for. "That hasn't changed."

But it has.

The truth of that slams into you with crushing finality. You shake your head, the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating you.

"Oh, it has, Mikey," you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "You know that."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Mikey doesn't argue, doesn't try to convince you otherwise. He just leans back in his chair, his hands falling limp at his sides, as though he's too exhausted to fight anymore. There's a defeat in his posture that wasn't there before, as if even he knows this is the end.

You want to scream at him, demand why it took him so long to be honest, why he let things fall apart so silently. But the words won't come. All that's left is the ache, the unbearable knowledge that the man you've loved for nearly a decade is slipping further away from you with every passing second.

Mikey looks like he's about to say something, his lips parting slightly, but then he falters, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever he's holding back.

"Maybe," he murmurs after a moment, his voice so soft you almost miss it. For the first time, he sounds vulnerable. "But I don't want to lose you. I can't..."

His voice breaks, just a little, and that cracks something inside of you too. Because it sounds like the truth, like the rawness of his feelings is finally breaking through the cold exterior he always wears. Nine years together, and this is where it's come to—a place where even his honesty feels too late. Too hollow. You know it's not enough. It never will be.

You don't want to lose him either. You don't want to believe that all those years meant nothing. But deep down, you know it already has. The moment she became his wife, the moment he chose her, you lost this battle. The war in your heart is over, and all that remains is the wreckage of what once was.

"You're already losing me," you whisper, the finality of it sinking in. Each word feels like a dagger in your own chest. "When you started choosing her, Mikey."

Mikey doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He just sits there, silent and still, like he's frozen in time. Maybe he doesn't have the strength to argue. Maybe, deep down, he knows it's true. He's losing you, and there's nothing left he can do to stop it.

You don't wait for his answer anymore. You've spent too long waiting for him to decide, too long hoping for a future that's already gone. The pain in your body—your aching muscles, the soreness from Sanzu's rough touch—it all fades into the background, drowned out by the unbearable weight of your broken heart.

You push yourself to your feet, your legs shaking slightly under the strain. But you don't let yourself falter. You can't, not now.

"You need to figure this out on your own," you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. Your words are an ultimatum, a final plea for him to understand what he's done.

"Because I can't keep waiting for you to choose me. I'm not meant to be an option. I'm worth more than that."

There's nothing left to say. The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of goodbye. Mikey doesn't move, doesn't speak, and that hurts more than anything else. He's letting you walk away.

Without another word, you turn and head toward the elevator. Each step feels like a thousand miles, like you're walking out of his life for good. And maybe you are. Maybe this is the end you've been dreading for so long.

The elevator doors close behind you with a soft click, and in the quiet of the enclosed space, the tears finally come. They fall silently at first, warm trails down your cheeks, but you don't wipe them away.

As the elevator descends, you let the tears flow freely. The weight of the years, the memories, the love you poured into him—it all hits you at once, and you don't stop it. You don't need to hide from the truth anymore.

Manjiro Sano has killed before. The thought of it had once terrified you, the cold certainty in his eyes when he spoke of violence always chilling.

You know this because you asked him, point-blank, one night when the weight of his world became too much to ignore. He didn't tell you directly, but the silence that followed, the coldness in his eyes, was answer enough. In that moment, the boy you knew, the boy you loved, disappeared into the shadows of the man he had become.

Still, you accepted him. Loved him anyway. You convinced yourself it was the only way to keep him—by accepting all of him, even the parts you couldn't bear to understand. You've always found a way to justify it—his actions, his choices, the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. Because loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. It became an instinct, a reflex, something that felt inevitable.

But now, the uncertainty gnaws at you, harder than ever before. Not just the heaviness of knowing who he is, but the gnawing question of what he's capable of—what he's done to the people around him.

What he's done to Sanzu.

Your mind races, replaying every detail of your last conversation with Mikey. The hard edge to his voice, the finality in his words. If Mikey killed him, it's because of you, isn't it? Because of what Sanzu did to you.

If Sanzu's dead, then his blood is on your hands.

That thought lodges itself deep in your chest, a weight too heavy to shake. Even after everything—after the drug, the violence, the way he pushed you to the edge—you can't stomach the idea of Sanzu dying because of you.

Which is why you find yourself here again, standing outside Sanzu's condominium in the middle of the night, your heart pounding so loud you can barely hear your own thoughts.

Mikey's words echo in your mind—his cold, distant voice, the final crack in everything you thought you knew about him. The realization had shattered you in ways you hadn't been prepared for.

It's over.

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but they ring with a truth that you can't deny. The boy you loved, the man you thought you'd stand beside forever—he's gone. And in his place is someone you no longer recognize.

Your feet move almost on their own as you approach Sanzu's door, but a hesitation stops you just before you reach the doorbell. Do you even know what you're doing here? What you want? You aren't sure. But the pull toward him, toward finding out what Mikey's done, is stronger than your doubts.

With a shaky breath, you press the doorbell. The silence that follows is deafening, punctuated only by the racing of your heart. Each second that passes feels like a lifetime, until finally, the shuffle of footsteps inside tells you someone's there.

The door swings open with a creak, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. Relief washes over you—but only for a second. What replaces it is a sharp stab of pity.

Sanzu looks like hell. His one eye is swollen and bruised, a fresh bandage covering the right side of his face. His lips are split and caked with dried blood, a sight that twists something deep in your chest.

His trademark sneer is still there, but it's marred by the pain that's evident in the way he stands, slightly hunched, favoring one side. There's an anger in his eyes, but behind it, you can see the weariness, the vulnerability he would never admit to.

"What the fuck do you want now?" Sanzu snaps, his voice sharp despite the obvious discomfort he's in. He's trying to sound like his usual self, but you can tell the fight has been knocked out of him. He's hurting. Badly.

Your mouth opens to respond, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they die there. Seeing him like this—broken, battered—it's not what you expected. It shakes something loose inside of you. Your eyes scan his injuries, your mind reeling with the knowledge that Mikey did this. The boy you loved did this.

Mikey isn't supposed to be this brutal. Not with his own.

The thought makes your chest tighten painfully, and before you can stop it, the tidal wave of emotion crashes over you. Tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. You thought you'd cried all the tears you had to give tonight, but this time, they come from a place deeper than heartbreak. This time, you're crying for everything—for Mikey, for Sanzu, for the person you've become in all this mess.

Sanzu's sneer fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, replaced by an annoyed scowl. He's trying to hide his discomfort, but you can see the confusion in his eyes.

"The hell are you crying for? Stop that now!" His words are rough, but there's an edge of bewilderment in them.

He doesn't understand why you're here, why you're crying.

But you can't stop. The sobs come hard and fast, tearing through you in a way that makes it hard to breathe. You're overwhelmed, consumed by the realization that Mikey is no longer the man you fell in love with. When did he start to change? When did the violence become more than just a part of his world, but a part of him?

Sanzu watches you, his irritation growing as your sobs continue. He's never been good with emotions—especially not yours.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, rubbing a hand across his face and wincing as he touches the bruise. "You're crying over him, huh?"

His words hit you like a slap, and more tears fall, a pitiful, uncontrollable mess. And in that moment, you don't care. You don't care that Sanzu's dangerous, that he's hurt you before, that he's the reason you ended up here in the first place. All you can think about is the fact that Mikey—your Mikey—is gone.

He's no longer the boy who used to hold you late at night, whispering promises of a future that now feels like a distant dream. He's no longer the man who looked at you like you were his entire world.

He's no longer yours.

Sanzu scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet hallway. "Fuck's sake, stop crying. You're acting like a kid."

But even his sharp words don't reach you.

When you don't respond, don't even acknowledge him, something in Sanzu snaps. He can't stand it anymore—the emotions, the tears, the fact that you're standing here crying over someone else while he's falling apart.

"Goddammit!" he snarls, and before you can blink, he slams the door in your face.

The sound echoes in the empty hallway, a loud, final punctuation to the moment. You're left standing there, your body trembling as the sobs finally start to quiet, though the tears continue to stream down your cheeks. You're alone again, and the weight of that reality hits you harder than anything else.

Mikey is gone. And so is the life you thought you'd have.

Manjiro Sano hated seeing you cry. Every time your tears would spill, it was like the world stopped spinning. His face would twist in pain, even if the tears weren't his fault. He once said that when you cried, it felt like he had failed—like he should have protected you from whatever caused them.

He always pulled you into his arms when you broke down, his touch so gentle it was almost unreal. He would stroke your hair, whispering that everything was okay, hiding you in the crook of his shoulder so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

But that Mikey? That Mikey is long gone.

Now you're standing outside Sanzu's condo unit, your fingers shaking as you try to dry your tear-streaked face. The cold air bites at your skin, or maybe it's the weight of what's happened tonight that chills you to the bone.

The second time you've cried in front of Sanzu today.

The first time, his hands were around your throat, forcing a pill past your lips, his eyes distant and clouded with drugs. The second time, there was no pill, no high to hide behind—just bruises, pain, and a door slammed in your face.

You shouldn't have come here, but at least you know he's alive. Mikey hadn't killed him, though something in the pit of your stomach told you it could have easily gone that way. You should feel relieved. Instead, the relief is mingled with anger, a deep-seated frustration that makes your heart pound even harder.

Just as you wipe away the last tear, the door swings open again.

Sanzu stands in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the dim light inside. His scowl deepens as his eyes land on you, scanning your face like he's surprised you're still standing there.

Then, without a word, he grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you. His grip is rough, but it loosens as soon as you're inside, leaving you stunned and blinking in the middle of his condo unit.

He disappears into another room and comes back with a box of tissues, shoving it toward you without a word. You take it, still in shock, as your eyes land on the bandage on his cheek. It's crooked, slapped on without much care, and his busted lip is still untreated, blood crusting around the edges, making him look even more broken than usual. You flinch inwardly at the sight.

"Did you get that wound treated?" Your voice is softer than you intended, concern slipping through the cracks in your resolve.

Sanzu glares at you. "What's it to you?"

You ignore his harshness, stepping closer. "You need to clean it properly," you say as your eyes fall to the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, scars you've always tried not to stare at too long.

"Or it'll leave... a scar."

"Yeah? So what?" he mutters, brushing off your concern as he walks away.

You stare at him, the words catching in your throat. The sight of him—bruised and bandaged sloppily—somehow makes your chest ache in ways you don't fully understand.

"Don't you have any antiseptic?" you ask, turning toward the door. "I'll go buy some if—"

"I have it," he grunts, cutting you off. "Top shelf, next to you. You'd think I wouldn't know how to deal with a damn wound in this line of work?"

You glance at the haphazard bandage on his cheek, clearly not impressed by his self-care. Still, you open the shelf and retrieve a small emergency kit.

"Then why didn't you treat the cut on your lip?" you ask, your voice a little firmer this time as you sit on the edge of his couch. "Surely you know you need to put antiseptic on it."

Sanzu grumbles under his breath, looking away. "Because... it fucking hurts, alright?"

You freeze for a second, blinking at him in surprise. Sanzu—the man who seems to thrive on chaos and pain—can't handle the sting of a simple cut? It's almost absurd, and yet, in that moment, you glimpse a flicker of something real beneath his usual mask. Vulnerability.

"I didn't think you were afraid of pain," you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"I'm not afraid of it," he snaps, his voice rising defensively. "I just fucking hate it."

There's a childishness in his tone that catches you off guard, like he's throwing a tantrum rather than admitting weakness. The outburst lingers in the air for a moment before you decide to ignore it, reaching for the antiseptic in the first aid kit.

"Let me treat it." Your voice is calm, quiet. An olive branch, if only he'd take it.

Sanzu stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowing. "Forget it," he mutters, brushing you off. "I don't need you all over my business."

"You're a dick, you know that?" you say, watching him limp slightly as he heads toward the pantry. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach.

He doesn't even glance back as he opens the fridge, retrieving a beer. "And I get paid for it," he replies, voice flat, devoid of his usual smugness.

You roll your eyes as he cracks the can open, lifting it to his lips, his pink hair a mess, like he's been through more than just a fight with Mikey. The black shirt and sweatpants he's wearing make him look almost... domestic. It hits you, suddenly—this familiarity, this strange sense of calm despite everything. It reminds you of Mikey, the way he used to walk around your apartment. The way things used to be.

Your heart twists.

"We broke up," you blurt out, the words spilling from your lips before you can stop them. It's like ripping off a bandage—quick and painful, but it has to be done.

Sanzu pauses mid-sip, his back still turned to you. You watch as he downs the rest of the beer in one long gulp, crushing the can in his hand before tossing it aside.

"'Bout time. I'm surprised it took him this long to figure it out," he mutters, but his words lack bite. There's no usual mockery, no cruelty, just... hollow indifference.

You study him, sensing the weight of his own pain, the bruises left by Mikey—not just on his body but somewhere deeper. You want to ask, to probe at the cracks in his usual defenses, but you don't. Instead, you take a breath and shift the conversation.

"I know, right?" You force a smile that feels thin, brittle. "I'm so heartbroken." The sarcasm coats your words, but it can't hide the tremor in your voice.

"You must be feeling pretty good right now, so why not do me a favor?" You motion for him to sit beside you. "Sit here and let me treat your wounds."

Sanzu turns slowly, his eyes scanning you as if weighing your request. You can tell he's torn, that a part of him wants to accept the help, even if his pride keeps getting in the way.

You sit there, waiting, knowing that if he needed to push you away, he would've already done it. You don't say anything, just hold your ground, offering him something he's clearly not used to—genuine care.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, he mutters, the words almost begrudging, "Fine. But don't expect me to thank you."

You smile softly, shaking your head as you hold out the antiseptic. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He walks toward you, but instead of sitting next to you, he drops down on the opposite couch, legs sprawled out carelessly, almost as if daring you to come to him instead. You raise an eyebrow, the familiar exasperation rising within you.

"You could at least make it easier for me," you grumble, standing up and walking over.

There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as you sit down in front of him on the coffee table, closer now, the scent of alcohol faint but present on his breath. He watches you carefully, eyes following your movements with that predatory focus he always seems to carry, even in moments like this.

When you peel back the bandage on his cheek, revealing the jagged scrape underneath, he winces, trying but failing to hide it. You smirk despite yourself, dabbing the wound with antiseptic.

"You're such a baby," you tease, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

The reaction is immediate. "Am not," he snaps, his voice cutting through the space between you. "Don't fucking call me that again." There's a sharp edge to his words, but you can hear the vulnerability beneath it, the bruised pride of someone who's used to fighting, not being taken care of.

You ignore his outburst, focusing on his wound. This time, you're more careful, your touch gentler as you apply the ointment. His lips press into a thin line, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to sit still. There's something oddly endearing about it, watching him struggle with the idea of being vulnerable, even for a moment.

He really hates being called a baby, doesn't he?

When you finish with the bandage, you move on to his split lip, focusing on the dried blood caked around the cut. He avoids your gaze, scowling as if pretending this isn't happening.

As your fingers brush against the faded scars at the corners of his mouth, curiosity gnaws at you. Before you can stop yourself, you press a thumb to one of the scars, feeling the jagged line beneath your skin.

Sanzu jerks back, his eyes blazing as he swats your hand away. "What the hell?" he growls, the vulnerability from a moment ago vanishing beneath the weight of his anger.

"Sorry," you murmur, pulling your hand back. "I got distracted."

The air between you shifts again, tense and fragile. You can tell you've touched something he doesn't want to share, a part of him that's still too raw, too guarded. And yet, you can't help but wonder what it would take for him to open up—to let you see more than just the surface.

You watch him stands abruptly in front of you, like he's about to bolt. "But I'm not done yet," you lie, trying to keep him there, keep the moment from slipping away.

He hesitates, glaring at you, but after a second, he sits back down with a grunt. "Whatever, just get it over with. I don't have all night to wait around."

You stay still, your hands resting in your lap as you stare at him, not moving to pick up the first aid kit again. "Can I ask you something?"

Sanzu slouches deeper into the couch, his eyes narrowing at you. "What now?"

You take a breath, steadying yourself. "How did you get those scars?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. For a moment, you expect him to laugh it off, to mock you for even asking. But instead, he just stares at you, his gaze cold and distant, like he's weighing whether or not to answer.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. "Mikey gave them to me."

The admission hits you like a punch to the gut. Mikey? Mikey did that to him? You feel your heart sink, your stomach twisting in disbelief. Judging by the faded look of the scars, it wasn't recent—this happened years ago. Long before Bonten. So why...?

"Why?" Your voice cracks, betraying the flood of emotions rising inside you.

Sanzu's eyes darken, his expression hardening. "I don't fucking remember," he snaps, his tone sharp, like he's daring you to push further.

But the look in his eyes tells you more than his words ever could. This isn't something he wants to talk about—not with you, not with anyone.

You lower your gaze, staring down at your hands as the weight of everything threatens to crush you again. The urge to cry surfaces, hot tears stinging your eyes. You've cried so much today, and in front of him of all people. It's humiliating at this point.

You stand, trying to escape the overwhelming weight of it all. "It's done. So I'll just... go," you mumble, stepping toward the door.

Before you can make it far, Sanzu's hand wraps around your wrist, his fingers cool against your skin. His grip is light, almost hesitant. You look down at where his fingers hold you, then back up at him.

"What is it?"

You can feel your voice trembling, on the verge of breaking. You're so close to falling apart, and he's just... watching.

"Want this?" he asks suddenly, holding up a bottle filled with colorful pills.

He gives it a small shake, and the pills rattle softly inside. The smirk that spreads across his face now is familiar, predatory. This is the Sanzu you know, the one you hate.

"This shit's the real deal. Remember the other stuff I gave you earlier? That was just a trial run." He laughs, that low, mocking sound that makes your blood boil.

Your chest tightens as you stare at the pills, your mind flashing back to the euphoria from earlier. It had felt so good, so easy, like all the pain had vanished for a while. And yet... you narrow your eyes at him, anger replacing the temptation. How could he think you'd ever take anything from him again after what he did?

Sanzu sees the anger flash across your face, and the smirk fades. He lets go of your wrist and looks away, his expression hardening again. "Forget it. Just leave."

For a moment, you almost do. You almost walk out the door and leave him behind. But something makes you stop. The way his hand had felt around your wrist, the way his voice had softened when he realized what he was offering. You glance back at him, his body tense as he stares ahead, avoiding your gaze. And suddenly, you don't want to leave anymore.

"I want it," you say quietly, turning fully to face him. "Give it to me."

Sanzu's eyes flick back to you, surprise flashing briefly before his usual sneer returns. "Fuck no," he grunts. "You think I'm gonna give you this just to watch you walk out the door?"

There's a pause. His words hang in the air, and for a split second, his eyes widen slightly, like he's just surprised himself with the admission. He hadn't meant to say that, but now it's out there—he doesn't want you to leave. Not yet.

He actually wants your company.

You can't help the bitter smile that tugs at your lips. "What, are you gonna choke me again?" you ask, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

His head snaps toward you, confusion etched into his features. "Huh? No. That's—" He stumbles over the words, almost defensive, like he hadn't considered how far he'd gone before.

Without waiting for him to finish, you plop down on the couch beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. You extend your hand, palm up, eyes fixed on his.

"Fine. Give me that, Sanzu."

For a moment, he doesn't move, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, a smirk tugs at his lips again—the same smug, infuriating expression you've come to expect from him.

Manjiro Sano has warned you more than once: avoid Sanzu when he's high. The fact that you were Mikey's girlfriend has always been enough to keep Sanzu from crossing certain lines when he's sober, but when the drugs took over, his already fragile self-control shatters.

The warning always carries weight, like a veiled threat that lingers at the back of your mind, but tonight... tonight, you don't care. You're too numb, too broken, and the reckless part of you craves the release Sanzu offers. The part of you that wants to forget Mikey.

The pill between Sanzu's fingers gleams like forbidden fruit, a dual-colored capsule that promises escape. His grin is lazy, predatory, as if the thrill of watching you self-destruct is part of his form of entertainment. Without a word, you reach for the pill, swallowing it down without hesitation. The bitter taste lingers at the back of your throat, but the anticipation of oblivion drowns out any second thoughts.

Within minutes, the edges of reality begin to blur. The room shifts, the walls breathe, and the floor ripples like water beneath your feet. Colors bleed into each other, swirling in dizzying patterns that make you feel weightless. The cool marble floor presses against your cheek as you lie sprawled on the ground, your limbs heavy yet disconnected from your body.

Above you, like a ghostly shadow, Sanzu lounges on the couch, watching you with an intensity that both unnerves and thrills you. He takes a pill of his own before the next wave hits you—stronger this time, pulling you under completely.

For a fleeting moment, you let everything go—the pain, the heartbreak, the memories of Mikey's distant eyes as you walked away from him. All the weight of your unspoken love, of your shattered heart, evaporates in the fog of euphoria. It's terrifying how easy it is to forget, to lose yourself in the numbness. But somewhere, deep in the pit of your soul, the fear lingers.

What will be left of you when the high wears off?

When you wake the next morning, reality presses you down like a vise. Your head pounds, each throb a reminder of the drug still pulsing through your system. The soft morning light filters through the unfamiliar room's windows. You blink, disoriented, trying to piece together what happened.

Right... Sanzu. You were in his condo last night, and this—this must be his bedroom.

As you shift, the soft rustle of sheets draws your attention, and your heart leaps into your throat. Sanzu lies beside you, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a wild mess of pink strands. He's half-naked, the blanket draped loosely over his hips, and for a moment, panic seizes you.

Your fingers instinctively brush over your clothes—still on, thank God. Relief washes over you, but it's fleeting. The haze of the previous night is still there, muddy and unclear, and you have no idea what happened between the two of you after you'd lost yourself to the high.

Whatever it was, it doesn't seem like you had sex with him. At least... you hope you didn't. Two people who are really high wouldn't bother to put their clothes back on after sex, right?

You sit up carefully, the bed creaking softly beneath you, and that's when you notice them—his scars. Lines of jagged, raw skin crisscross his back like a violent roadmap of his past. Some scars are old, barely visible against his pale skin, while others are fresh, still healing from whatever recent chaos he's endured.

You know that Sanzu lives in violence, that it clings to him like a second skin, but seeing the marks so intimately, so vulnerably laid bare before you—it stirs something inside you. A deep, unsettling pity, but you quickly shove it down, pushing it past the ache in your chest.

Your shift your gaze to the floor, where the bottle of pills lies tipped over, colorful capsules scattered across the marble floor. How many did you take last night? Too many, you're sure. You feel their lingering effects, the way they dull the edges of your thoughts, how they slow your movements.

Shaking off the grogginess, you move toward the door, eyes landing on the katana propped up against the wall. A glint of steel in the early light.

You pause, your hand gripping the door handle. The memory of what Sanzu did before flashes through your mind—the way he choked you, forcing the first pill down your throat. Mikey has punished him for it, but still, you felt guilty enough to treat his wounds. Then, stupidly, you let yourself get high with him again. Willingly.

But the anger still simmers under the surface. All those cruel words over the years, the taunts, the smirks, the way he looks down on you. He's infuriating. And this... this is your chance to get back at him.

Without thinking, you walk over to the katana. The hilt feels cool and foreign in your hand as you lift it, the weight of it surprising you. But you don't hesitate.

As you drag the katana behind you, the metal scraping loudly against the floor, the sound reverberates in the silent hallway. Each step feels like defiance, like a rebellion against everything Sanzu represents—the control, the twisted power he holds over you.

In the basement, you find the garbage bin. Without a second thought, you dump the katana in, the clang of steel against metal echoing in the empty space. It isn't enough to truly hurt him, but it's enough to piss him off, enough to make him notice.

And that's what you want, isn't it? To get under his skin the way he always gets under yours? To make him feel something—anything—that isn't amusement at your suffering?

As you walk away, a small, bitter smile tugs at your lips. You know this won't end well. You're playing with fire, and Sanzu is dangerous when pushed. But the part of you that's still reeling from Mikey, still wounded and desperate, craves this chaos. You want to see what will happen when Sanzu finds the katana, want to watch the fury flash across his face. Because for once, you aren't the one falling apart.

Maybe it's madness, or maybe it's something deeper—a need to reclaim some form of control in a world that's stripped you of it. Either way, you aren't running anymore.

You'll face whatever comes next, even if it destroys you.

Manjiro Sano haunts you everywhere. He's with you in the empty bed, a ghost beside you as you stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the dark. When you’re in the kitchen, his voice echoes in your mind, teasing, laughing, pulling you into memories that make your chest tighten with an ache that hasn't dulled. In the mirror, you see him staring back, his familiar, cold gaze mocking you as you brush your teeth, as if daring you to forget the life you shared with him.

It's been weeks since the breakup, but the weight of nine years doesn't just vanish. You were naive to think it would be easy to let go. After all, you didn't just lose Mikey—you lost the future you had envisioned, the dream of always being by his side, no matter what.

You'd never loved anyone else, never felt the safety of another person's arms. You never had a reason to think you'd need to. And when you first learned about the arranged marriage three years ago, you foolishly believed that nothing could ever come between you and Mikey, that love would always win. However, reality had other plans.

Eventually, it all became too much. So, you made a decision. You packed your things and left the apartment you had once shared with him, that place filled with memories—of laughter, of love, of a time when he was truly yours. But now, those memories felt like weights pulling you under, drowning you in a past that you could no longer live in.

So, you found a new place, a smaller apartment far away from that suffocating ghost. You didn't tell anyone from Bonten. Not a soul knew where you were now. It was supposed to be your clean break.

But fate never lets you escape that easily.

Weeks after you've settled into your new life, you find yourself out for a casual walk, basking in the simplicity of a quiet day. An ice cream cone in one hand, a plastic bag of snacks in the other—small, ordinary comforts in an otherwise chaotic life. You're beginning to breathe again, to feel the freedom of being on your own. And then you see him.

Mikey.

He's sitting outside a café, his silver hair catching the sunlight, his posture as calm and unreadable as ever. But next to him is her. His wife. The sight of them together makes your stomach lurch, your heart clenching as if gripped by an iron fist. She's laughing, and though Mikey's face is still as cold and impassive as always, there's something different about him. Softer. He looks at her in a way that sends a sharp pang through your chest.

He's moving on.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it's tilting on its axis. You need to get out of here. Now.

Before you can make your escape, though, you spot them. Ran's lazy, amused expression is the first thing you notice, his sharp eyes locking onto you with that all-too-familiar smirk.

"Well, well. Look who it is," he drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. But it's the presence next to him that makes your blood run cold.

Sanzu.

The moment his gaze lands on you, the air around you thickens. His eyes narrow, his lips curl into a sneer, and you know. He knows. You can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, simmering beneath the surface. You've crossed a line with him, and now, you'll pay for it.

Your heart hammers in your chest, panic seizing your throat. The plastic bag slips from your hand, the ice cream falling, forgotten, as it splatters against the pavement. You don't even care. All that matters now is getting away.

You turn and run.

"Oi!" Sanzu's voice slices through the air, sharp and dangerous. "Stop running!"

Like hell you will.

You know what he's capable of, and you know there's nothing holding him back now—not Mikey, not anyone. Not after what you did. The memory flashes in your mind—the clattering of metal, the weight of his katana in your hands as you threw it into the trash. The reckless satisfaction of it all.

You can hear his footsteps behind you, the sound growing louder with each passing second. He's faster than you remember, and your chest tightens in fear. Sanzu is dangerous even when he's calm, but this?

This is personal.

The crowded street is a blur as you dash through it, weaving past confused onlookers, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. Dignity is the last thing on your mind right now—you're running for survival. And yet, amidst the chaos, a ridiculous thought crosses your mind: If I die today, I'll die looking like shit. No makeup, no cute clothes, just sweat and terror.

You can feel him gaining on you, the heat of his rage practically burning at your back, and desperation grips you. You need to think fast, or you won't make it. That's when you spot the riverbank up ahead, the water glistening in the distance.

Without a second thought, you sprint toward it, your feet barely touching the ground as you throw yourself into the icy water. The shock of the cold steals your breath, but you don't stop moving. You swim, forcing your body through the water, the chill biting into your skin.

When you finally break the surface, you gasp, a fleeting moment of triumph swelling in your chest. You've escaped.

Or so you think.

Your heart sinks when you see him standing on the riverbank, his figure dark and ominous against the bright sky. Sanzu is already peeling off his blazer, his eyes fixed on you with a predator's focus. There's no hesitation as he tosses it aside and kicks off his shoes. Of course, he's going to follow you. Of course, he's not letting this go.

You should have known better.

Sanzu dives into the water without a second thought, cutting through the current with frightening speed. And that's when it hits you—he isn't just chasing you out of anger. He's chasing you because you've crossed a line you can never uncross. Because Sanzu doesn't follow any rules, doesn't have any boundaries.

And neither of you are sane enough to stop now.

< part two ends >

author's notes. heyy beloved sanzu kinnies <3 i'm so so happy & grateful for all the love you showed to part one of BNT that i decided to bless you guys with twice as long part two hehe :D hope you guys enjoyed it! i've got some fun stuff planned for sanzu and y/n in the next part... so please stay tuned! also, i'd love to hear your thoughts so do leave some notes & comments!! tysm for reading guys! stay awesome ☆(>ᴗ•)

taglist. @iluv-ace @reiners-milkbiddies @bontenbabyy @risheliette @loveantonnlee @sukunas-bitxh @honeygonebads-blog @r3yk @soilaluna @l1ttl3m1ss666 @novv @slvdsjjk @miffysoo @qyoongi @drakensdarling @ask-the-insect-hashira @awkwardaardvarkforever @thebiggestlovergirlever @shinichirolover @kyyuuuuu @meowww1041 @kiasnotforever (comment below if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

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fazedlight · 1 month ago

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Alone (rift with hopeful ending, content note for self-harm)

The problem is me, Kara thought.

She collapsed to her living room floor, panting and panicked, still feeling the kryptonite in her veins as she watched her best friend try to kill her. The problem is me. I’m not supposed to be here.

“One more go?” Mxy said.

Kara didn’t answer. She shoved herself off the floor, making her way to her couch to sit down, staring at a wall as her panting began to slow.

Mxy’s brow furrowed curiously as he took a seat next to her, but Kara wouldn’t meet his eyes. So he waited, and waited, watching the kryptonian as she thought through the problem.

Finally, Kara spoke. “There’s one more reality I want to see,” she said.

“That is?”

Kara turned up to him. “I want to see the world, if I had died on Krypton.”

Mxy froze. “I can’t show you that.”

“Why not?”

“I can only show you changes in your life, your choices,” Mxy said. “I can show you the events immediately following your death. But Krypton died decades ago - I can’t show you Lena so far after.”

Kara frowned, leaning up against the couch. “Then there’s something I have to do.”

---

Lena was making tea when Kara tapped down on her balcony that evening. Though it was close to 11pm, when most of the city was preparing for bed, it seemed that sleep was alluding the Luthor just as much as it was alluding Kara.

Lena tensed as she watched Kara step into her living room - wariness and cold anger highlighting her features. Kara didn’t offer greetings or niceties, knowing that Lena would prefer she leave sooner rather than later. “I’m being given a chance,” Kara said, “To rewrite time.”

“Rewrite time?” Lena asked.

Kara’s jaw tensed nervously - a flicker as she thought about the hourglass in her suit pocket, the timepiece that Mxy had given her if she made the choice he told her not to make - before speaking again. “I am being allowed one chance to change history,” Kara said. “I can make it so that we never meet.”

Lena’s eyes widened.

“Is that what you want?” Kara asked quietly.

“Yes.”

---

Kara flew.

She didn’t say goodbye - there was no point. She told Lena the change would happen at midnight, that the Luthor will wake to a new day without having ever known Kara Danvers. No memory of her old life, no memory of the pain or betrayal. It would simply be morning.

She thought about saying goodbye to her sister, to Eliza - even to going back to Argo to see her mother. But she couldn’t bring herself to. If Alex realized something was off and dug deeper, if Eliza soothingly tried to prepare some hot cocoa, Kara wasn’t sure she could go through with what needed to be done.

Kara landed outside the Fortress, walking inside the hallowed grounds of what was the only piece of Krypton on Earth. She had thought of it all too often in the aftermath of Krypton’s destruction - how death was always in solitude, and the Fortress was as good a place as any.

She reached inside her pocket, pulling out the palm-sized hourglass - given to her by a Mxy who wanted no part in all of this, telling her she ought to smash the device instead of activating it. But Kara set it gently on the console, and sand began to flow.

She exited again, floating up to the roof of the Fortress. It was cold, dark. Not that it could penetrate her skin, as she looked up to the skies.

This is forbidden, came the idle thought, an affront to Rao.

Kara ignored the bubbling thoughts, pushing back the lump in her throat. After all, she wouldn’t really exist anymore - there would be no one to punish for any transgression she committed. A thirteen-year-old child would flee Krypton in her father’s pod, but the debris from her dying planet would ensure she’d never wake up again. The Kara that existed now would simply not, and no affront to Rao would be made.

“She’s worth it,” Kara murmured up to the stars, eyes landing on a faint red glow in the distance.

---

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Lena had realized her error as soon as Kara left - as soon as Lena had had more than two seconds to think through the implication of we never meet.

Not haven’t met yet, not haven’t met as Kara and Lena - but to never meet at all? There was only one way to keep that sort of promise. Kara, don’t you dare…

Like a fool, she had run out the door, landing on the steps of Kara’s apartment building in the dead of night only to find that the blonde wasn’t there. Lena cursed herself as she rushed back to her condo, digging for the portal watch and praying she had enough time. The Fortress, she thought, that’s the only other place she’d be.

Lena prayed she was right as she stepped through the portal field, mentally planning on how she’d need to call Alex or Nia or anyone to find out where Kara was, before the kryptonian did something so utterly fucking stupid-

“Fuck,” Lena murmured, glancing around the ice walls. She’s not here.

More than that, the Fortress was cold. Not that those rooms were ever balmy - but the door had been left wide open, allowing an arctic breeze to send a damning chill through Lena’s bones. The North Pole is around -40 degrees, she thought, scrambling for her watch as she could feel her fingers already getting numb.

But to her relief, the cold didn’t last long - she heard the shift of the door behind her, could feel the stagnation of the wind. A heartbeat later, she turned to find impossibly warm arms around her. “Lena,” Kara murmured worriedly, “What are you doing here?”

“How is it that we never meet?” Lena pleaded, ignoring Kara’s question. “What happens that prevents us from meeting?”

Kara stilled.

“Kara-”

“You won’t remember me,” Kara said, holding her tighter, “You won’t remember this.”

“You’ll be dead!”

Lena struggled against Kara, but she could only feel the kryptonian’s infuriating hold, preventing her from going anywhere. “It won’t be much longer,” Kara said softly, turning her head to her side, “You’ll be free.”

Lena followed Kara’s gaze, her eyes landing on the Fortress console. It was then that she noticed it - the small hourglass on top, sand ticking through the narrow waist. She doesn't have much time, Lena realized, noting that Kara might only have minutes left. “Kara, don’t-” Lena struggled again, “I don’t want you dead!”

“I don’t want you in pain,” Kara said simply. “I love you too much for that.”

Lena glanced up at Kara. You love me?, Lena thought, the seeming impossibility washing over her. She feels what I feel?

Because Lena thought she had been obvious, years ago. The flirting and the flowers and the solemn confessions - compassionately denied for a friendship instead, which Lena tried to graciously take. Even if Kara didn’t feel the same way, Lena had wanted her in her life.

But Lena saw something different in that moment - maybe a kryptonian who couldn’t cross that line while carrying secrets.

And maybe there was hurt and pain and being wronged… but ever since the night in the very Fortress they were standing in - where Lena had once walked away after encasing Kara in toxic air, after manipulating her and stealing from her - Lena found it harder and harder to look at herself in the mirror. Is this what we’re supposed to be?, Lena wondered, two people who just hurt each other?

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Lena’s fingers slipped up Kara’s shoulders, tugging firmly on the collar as Kara turned towards her with somber blue eyes. Lena knew she could never fight arms powered by the yellow sun, couldn’t argue with the kryptonian’s foolish sense of duty.

So she did what she wished she had done years ago. Tipping her head slightly, pushing up on her toes to counter Kara’s boots, Lena pressed her lips against Kara’s own.

The kiss was soft. Chaste. No more than soft lips meaning soft lips. Where first kisses were usually of joy or lust, there was none of that here as Kara stilled, as Lena let her work through her confusion and fear. There was only a solemn confession, and the kryptonian who was uncertain of how to accept it.

Lena broke away. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone.”

Kara’s eyes darted between Lena’s own for a moment, until her arms finally loosened, allowing Lena to pull back. Lena watched as ambivalence crossed Kara’s face as she stepped away, but she could feel nothing but relief.

Lena turned to rush to the console, fingers reaching the hourglass as it steadily trickled along, perhaps another minute or so of sand left. Lena raised her arm and threw the timepiece to the floor, smashing fragments of glass and a spray of sand across her shoes and the icy floor. If I had been any later…

Lena shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

She turned up to Kara again, and the blonde smiled softly back.

#okay so I know this is the second time I've written borderline-suicidal-ideation Kara before but I want to promise everyone that I am fine #though I'm certainly tapping into some older memories here #also I wrote this all today because I wasn't planning on doing this prompt so sorry if it's a bit messy #(I did have a different prompt for today but that became long enough to become its own one shot 😂)#me? a rift fic?#supercorptober #supercorptober2024 #mel writes ficlets #supercorp

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forever--darling · 2 years ago

Text

na’viyä hapxì — one of the people | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: you have your ceremony to become apart of the clan after finally telling kiri everything that's been going on. neteyam is forced to deal with his feelings as he realizes he might be losing you to someone else.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 11.9k (I have no self-control at this point. seriously I still have a part or two left to write)

warnings/notes: i am so sorry, slow burn continues, swearing, major angst, fighting, mention of blood, mention of sky people, forest destruction, confrontation of feelings, a smidge of fluff but not much, one step closer to the end

series masterlist | one of us: part five | requests are currently open for now

This was supposed to be the start of your new life but all you could think about at that second was how Lo’ak was gripping your face and saying all of the things that somehow left the opposite feeling in your stomach than it should have. Maybe because it was Lo’ak saying it or maybe it was the fact that he was admitting that he would settle for you. It made you cringe, the wording, the confession that he would rather settle for you than anyone else. It made you want to completely claw at the insides of your brain, hoping that if desperate enough and boiling with an unmistakable rage, you could rip the memory free from your mind.

No one should ever want to settle for anyone and it left you trying to swallow the knot inside your throat. Even if it had come from a good place with the intention to give two lonely people the possibility of a future, the delivery was cruel. To top it off, you were late, the sun had completely set over the mountain, leaving the sky in total darkness. The freckles upon Lo’ak’s nose and forehead were glowing, taking your attention, appearing similar to the stars above as his once sun-kissed eyes lazily trace your face.

That’s all you could think about as your Ikran landed in the base of the village, his landing next to yours a second later. His eyes were too much like his brother's and it was grueling. If you focused on them long enough, it was like it was Neteyam there instead of Lo'ak. But then you were reminded of the look in them, something unmatched and desolate. There was a certain glint within his olive-green irises that was missing as if when he stared down at you there was an emptiness deep within the confines and walls of his chest.

As soon as your feet landed on the ground, you were desperate to escape, an appalling pull in your stomach as you took off towards the center of the village. You felt the pounding in your head ultimately increase as all air was pulled from your lungs at the sight of the village. So many people. The whole clan in fact gathered, waiting. Waiting for you. Deep breath in. Then out.

It was nauseating how many people were there and almost annoying how close you could feel Lo'ak walking behind you. As if his presence was trying to remind you of his words all over again. His words felt like they were squeezing your heart in its palm sickeningly watching as the organ withered in its grip.

Approaching the large old tree that hovered over the village almost like Home Tree once did, your steps faltered as you found Kiri standing outside, her arms crossed over her chest and toe-tapping against the dirt. Your steps increased, desperation forming for her to see her brother lurching on your back and your sanity and remove him instantly.

When her eyes met yours, she was pushing herself up off the side of the tree and hurried towards you in slight disbelief but then when she found Lo’ak behind you, she could only roll her eyes, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hi, Kiri,” Lo’ak replied sweetly, waving his hand with a chester-like grin on his face.

“Oh shut it, I should have known she wouldn’t have been late to her own ceremony unless someone else was involved,” she shot daggers at her brother and wondered how much it would take for him to collapse overcome by his sister's indisputable irritation.

Kiri's hand tightly took a hold of your arm beginning to lead you into the hollowed-out tree, the fragrance of oak and amber brought a tickle to the base of your nose, “And you, we have to start getting you ready.”

“Oh relax, we made it didn’t we?"

Lo'ak's tone sliced through the air and you felt the disbelief warp around your insides and tighten. They felt as if they were boiling, hot from his obliviousness to the situation. Because even if he was trying to do something sweet, his reasoning behind it all was so wrong. You decided to ignore him and his sister seemed to do the same as she began to fiddle with the ends of your hair. His stare was just as empty as it had been the hour before

You looked away, instead hoping to find solace or an ounce of reassurance in your surroundings, within the tree filled with candles, tapestries, beads, everything that could be certified as sacred. You had never been inside before and you found yourself admiring it rather than his blank stare.

Hearing the way his mouth parted like a gaping fish in water, you felt your shoulders stiffen. Out of fear that he was about to spill the soul-wrenching words you had yet to even process yourself. The last thing you could deal with was him spouting them out proudly like an idiot to someone else as if he had already claimed you.

Luckily, before he could say anything or reveal the sour secrets of your life, his voice shrunk back into his throat and his ears flattened softly at something else entirely. A chuckle verberated from your lips as you peered over to find the exact cause of Lo'ak's silence.

His father. Jake Sully stood near the doorway, his hands balanced on his hips, dressed as if displaying power was his only goal on this planet. A look filled his eye that you had come to know extremely well as if he was forcefully trying to draw everyone's attention and completely intimidate his youngest son.

“Hey Dad,” Lo’ak waved timidly, gulping as Jake approached him and firmly took a hold of his shoulder.

“Outside, now,” Jake commanded, voice cutting through the room, leaving a silence that was deafening. He couldn't look away from Lo'ak with an undermined idea that the teenager would have vanished from his sight if he did. Not sparing anyone a glance, he dragged Lo'ak out of the room.

Kiri acting as if it hadn't happened began to undo the braids in your hair. With the two of you left alone, you had a feeling her silence was only temporary. With her fingers loosening around the third one, you felt her grip disappear. You sighed, somehow guilt of your own crawling up out of your throat even though you weren’t entirely sure what you were guilty of.

The possibilities could have been endless at that point. Guilt had formed because of too many far-fetched reasons that were tightly wound up in your head. Could it have appeared, because you were spending more time with your best friend's brothers rather than giving her a second of your time? Or was it because of the unmistakable fear of the reality outside of your Pandora bubble — the ignored sickness of your human body? Or worst of all could this guilt eating away at you be from the less-than-innocent desire that had taken over you for her older brother — the one man you knew you could never have?

“Kiri, whatever it is just ask?” you said suddenly, taking in a deep breath, “Please.”

She continued with your hair but this time let her thoughts fall freely off her tongue, “What was that all about? Showing up late to your own ceremony? And with Lo’ak. Really?”

You sighed, the frustration was evident in your voice, and somehow you found yourself nervous to tell her of the conversation that you had had with him, “It was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“So, he was just trying to flirt with you. That’s all it was?” she asked, cautiously, her fingers carding through your hair gently unable to look away from the way your thumbs were fiddling with one another in your lap, “I thought you were immune to his advances. You haven’t fallen for it have you?”

Your answer was without hesitation, “Of course not.”

“Then what is going on?” Kiri’s hands suddenly dropped from your hair and turned you around to face her. It was as if she could hear through Eywa that something was plaguing your heart. Like something had been affecting you for a while and she just hadn’t seen any of the signs. “Look, I know my brothers have been occupying all of your time lately, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t care about you. And if something is bothering you, I want to be able to help.”

Taking in a deep breath, you exhaled, gold eyes suddenly meeting hers with a certain unsureness laced within yours. Your hands were almost shaking as every anxiety you thought you had shoved far away seemed to resurface.

She suddenly took both of your hands in hers, eyes wide and lips curled softly into a small smile, her expression reflecting comfort back at you, “Y/N, just tell me.”

“Tonight,” your voice cracked and you cleared your throat as everything came racing back to you, “After we had been flying, we stopped on this mountain and… Lo’ak, he asked me if I wanted to be his mate.”

Her mouth parted in shock, a small noise of disapproval seemed to fall from them as her eyes widened even further, “He what?”

“He asked me to—”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” she cut you off, her mouth closing and then dropping open again, “But he is too young to even be…”

As her voice trailed off, you nodded agreeing with her words. Lo’ak was only seventeen and Neytiri and Jake had made it perfectly clear to their children that they advised them to wait until they were eighteen before making plans. Wait until they decided on a mate, plus in Lo’ak’s case, he wasn’t sure if the decision was even his. If Neteyam didn’t have the choice, why would he? Sure, for his older brother Olo’eyktan was at stake but their parents’ decision was safer in their eyes than letting their young adult sons make the choice for themselves. He had automatically assumed that if Neteyam wouldn’t have the option neither would he.

“And tonight he asked you to…”

All breath left her again and her shock was smacked across her face displaying perfectly how you had felt too when it had happened. You nodded again, “Yes.”

“But wait,” she squeezed your hands, “He knows better. We all know that our mother has clearly stated that it isn’t allowed, at least not while you are still a dream walker. Why would he even… Y/N?”

You watched slowly as the confusion had overtaken her face and just as quickly left as she spoke out loud, trying to wrap her head around this occurrence. Within a matter of seconds, she realized that Lo’ak would not have openly asked you this unless there was a way this would be allowed. She knew her brother and despite him having broken many rules in the past, she also knew that for something this serious he would be more considerate. In fact something as serious as mates, he would not decide rationally.

“What would lead Lo’ak to ask this?”

“Maybe the fact that,” your voice was unsteady, pausing just as the truth was tiptoeing across your tongue, “He knew I went and visited Mo’at. And that I asked her about the consciousness transfer.”

“You did what?” her voice had hardened, turning cold as her hands had seemed to slip out of yours possibly out of shock, disappointment, or both. The exact reaction you were expecting. “Y/N!”

She shook her head, the fear of one of two outcomes appearing in her mind. You do the ritual and somehow pass through Eywa's eyes and be reborn or you do the ritual and have your presence accepted to be with The Great Mother forever. It was the latter that filled Kiri with the worst possible fear. However, this wasn't the first time this situation had crossed her mind — you admitting that you wanted to do the consciousness transfer to become one of them.

It was a possibility that had been living in her mind far longer than anyone could realize. Since the moment she had first seen you in your avatar body. It was the glimmer in your eye, this type of glow that seemed to surround you that none of them had ever seen before. It was there that very first night; in your smile, your clumsy steps, eyes constantly searching to absorb every part of the forest you saw. As you spent more time in the forest, in the village, with her people, with Neteyam, Kiri realized that the glow around your head only seemed to increase. She was afraid that this could happen, but she never thought it would. Almost as if she relied on your intelligence and common sense to distract you from the alluring double life you were currently living.

“What were you thinking?” Kiri found her voice, and the betrayal and pain heard in it seemed to crack not only your spirits but a part of your soul, “Y/N, you know how dangerous the transfer is and how rarely it even is successful. Eywa is very careful when it comes to requests and she is far more complex than you realize.”

“I know Kiri,” you admitted, bowing your head as if you were a child being scolded.

“Really? Because I think if you truly understood that. If Neteyam had made any of it perfectly clear to you, or if you had listened to anything we’ve been telling you for the last seven years you wouldn’t have put in that request to Mo’at.”

“No, Kiri, you don’t understand. It didn’t matter what you or anyone else said to me, I still would have gone to Mo’at and requested the transfer ritual.”

“Why?” her brows knitted together, the word sounded so spiteful on her tongue and it was foreign in her own ears.

She had never talked this way to anyone, let alone you, her best friend all throughout childhood. Somehow though she knew kindness was sometimes for the weak of heart and her feelings in that moment were completely justified. Led by the thought of possibly losing you had activated every nerve in her body to act out in a fight or flight response and with that came anger and the need to be vitriolic to you.

You sighed, taking a step back from her as your own arms found a place wrapped around your waist, a conditioned action from your childhood that had transferred even into your avatar body. You felt the tears begin to cloud your eyes, and you silently cursed yourself for letting this get to you during a time that was supposed to be celebratory.

Finally, meeting her eyes again, you broke down your walls and let the feelings you had been trying to make sense of for far too long go, “I can’t go on like this forever. Can’t you see? How one of these days when either the technology fails or our resources finally diminish themselves, I won’t be able to keep doing this. My life will alter completely.”

As you paused, behind your eyes it was like you had bonded back to your human body. A pale body being pumped full of liquid solutions with dullness to its eyes. All you could feel was weakness — the only thing that was left within it. “Not to mention the stress from the link pod would become too much for my body. I would have to give up one, and I prefer that it wouldn’t be this one.”

Her hands reached out and took a hold of your elbows, reasoning the only thing she could think to do to calm you down or to better change your mind. She smiled softly but it was laced with a kind of grief you hadn’t seen before. “Y/N, when and if that day comes, we can get you readjusted. We can teach you the ways to handle the forest in your human body and get enough oxygen supply for you. Spider can help—”

“I don’t want Spider’s help,” you snapped, fangs barring for a moment before you recoiled into yourself all emotions dropping from your face, “You don’t get it, Kiri. What I have outside of this village, outside of this body is not a life. I sit around day after day looking out of a glass box at a world that is right in front of me. A world I will never be able to have, not like this, not like I have now. That isn’t living and I am running out of time. Please, try to understand. There isn’t enough time to try and make up for it with my human body.”

“Y/N,” Kiri’s grip on your elbows tightened, her eyes dancing across your face trying to decipher the meaning of your words as all that she could hear ringing in her ears was that you didn’t have the time.

Before she could spend too long on it though, you were speaking again with a deflated look appearing on your face, “But you don’t have to worry because clearly, Eywa does not see me as one that is worthy. Mo’at turned down the request. And you won’t have to worry about me and Lo’ak either because you and I both know I could never go through with it.”

Though relief flooded her system, the brokenness of your expression brought out other feelings in her. Mostly of sadness as she watched how quickly that glow you had was diminishing into nothing but a dull perspective on life. That rare magic that seemed to fill you, that most people couldn’t even acknowledge as being real or possible, was slowly being ripped out of you.

She took a deep breath, feeling your disappointment reverberating off of your very being. Somehow as she processed your words, she couldn’t help but think that it wasn't entirely true. Eywa’s heart beats loudly in her ears and often it’s like her soul can hear the Great Mother’s voice. Kiri had quickly learned what it meant for Eywa to not accept something or to not agree with something — it didn’t feel like this.

“You could never go through with it because of the request being denied?” Kiri finally asked, deterring the conversation to Lo’ak and what he had asked you. The very thing he should have never asked you in the first place.

As she asked it though, you became silent, your hands gaining your attention rather quickly. Within that moment, where you stared down at your ten fingers that matched the two Sully children's, you realized that even if the transfer request had been accepted by Eywa and approved by Mo’at, that wasn’t why you couldn’t go through it. Even if you became fully Na’vi, you knew fully in your heart that you couldn’t accept Lo’ak’s offer to settle. It was never about the transfer ritual at all, but rather about someone.

“Or you could never go through with it because of Neteyam?” Kiri asked, and your eyes flickered up as if she had read your mind or, better, your silence.

Brows furrowing together in confusion, your eyes widened slightly in surprise, “How did you—”

“You really think no one has noticed, Y/N?” she smiled, a small laugh escaping as her hand reached up to brush the braids in your face, which she still had to undo, behind your ear, “It’s like the whole world has tilted on its axis and you act as if it hasn’t. It’s all there in front of us; the stolen glances, how his previous frustration has changed into protectiveness, him sneaking out every night to see you even when he spent most of the day with you, the light touches here and there that happen so quick like a blink of an eye, the way you look at him. I can keep going, there’s plenty more.”

Your head tilted down, face flushing completely to a dark hue and it was all the confirmation she needed. Meeting her soft smile, you reached up to take her hand in yours, remorse the only way to describe you, “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Of course not,” Kiri chuckled, her hand squeezing yours, “No one ever does. It’s cute though, you and Neteyam.”

You shook your head then denying her words, her acknowledgment of your feelings, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

She watched as the glow seemed to dull even further as your broken expression met hers, voice soft as you spoke, “There can never be a me and Neteyam. You know that, Kiri. He is the future Olo’eyktan and there is a plan for his life. One where his mate will be chosen for him. It’s a life that I can’t be a part of.”

Her expression dropped, a smile falling from her lips as her hand cradled your face softly fully preparing herself to wipe the tears from your face. Her mouth parted as if she was about to say something, comfort you maybe, deny your claim, or worse accept that it was the truth and what would inevitably happen. You would never know though as her eyes flickered up behind you, something catching her eye. Her hands fell from your frame and her soft smile returned.

Confused, you watched as she nodded in the direction behind you, your name falling off her tongue as if it was a sweet melody, “Y/N.”

Cautiously, you turned around, worried that someone had somehow and someway heard what you had said, all of it including the confession about the future Olo’eyktan. You felt your anxiety slip away into the night as you found the man himself entering the tree, his eyes only set on you.

Then a new kind of anxiety formed, and your heart rate sped up, as you took him in. He was already dressed for the ceremony with the most extravagant necklaces, arm bands, and clothing just as his father had been. Hair freshly braided, it swung from side to side as he stalked forward, a look in his eye you couldn’t entirely unravel. He was slightly out of breath as if he had been running, a thin layer of sweat gathering across his shoulders and the side of his face.

Kiri took a small step back as Neteyam stopped in front of you, his hands instantly reaching out to take your arms. His palms were rough against your skin as he began to scan you from head to head, a tight frown stitched onto his face paired with his eyebrows knitted together.

His gold eyes could even be described as scary and you wondered if you had gotten a sliver of the past. If the old Neteyam was standing in front of you and was about to lecture you for being late to your own ceremony. Instead, when his golden gaze found yours again, they softened for a millisecond and the look was gone again just as quickly.

“I am going to kill him,” Neteyam growled under his breath, voice deep enough to reach inside of you and hollow out your entire body of any other feelings that once resided there. Suddenly, all you could think about was him and the way he was holding you.

An arm's length away, he continued to scan your body for any markings or injuries that hadn’t been there before. You realized then that this look on his face, this intensity and anger wasn’t towards you for being late, but towards his younger brother, who was supposed to be responsible for you. Lo’ak was the reason behind this reaction and clearly, the sight of his younger brother being scolded by his father near their tent had sent him into a rage. “Are you okay?”

Your insides fluttered at the way his tone had shifted completely in a matter of seconds. This was a side of him you felt you had never seen before, and it was like that paired with the way you were staring up at him like a lovesick puppy had been enough to prove to Kiri that everything she had said was completely true.

“Yes, I am fine.”

Your words had broken his spell and his stare hardened again, his anger towards his brother returning full-fledge, “How could he be so stupid? He knew what time the ceremony was and he kept you out there until dark anyway. It was completely selfish. And if something happened…”

His voice had trailed off as if he couldn’t even think about it, let alone say it. He was playing a dangerous game with your heart, evident in the way the strings seemed to be getting pulled with everything he did or say. You reached out, your hands connecting with his chest, and he felt all air get pushed out from the sudden contraction of his diaphragm due to the warm touch.

“Neteyam, I am fine, okay? And Lo'ak didn't mean any harm by it.”

“Yeah, just having fun right? Uh, I shouldn’t have let him go. It should have been me up there with you. I know better than letting him go off without someone who is responsible. It’s like he doesn’t have a conscious when he flies and he's seventeen for fucks sake."

“Stop. Okay, this is not your fault, Lo’ak is his own person who makes his own decisions. There is nothing to even stress about because we’re fine. We are both fine,” you said, thinking carefully about your next words, “You know how it is. You get up there, and suddenly you’re flying for hours—”

“And never want to come down, I know,” he finished your thought.

“You know, you can be too hard on him sometimes,” you said, and at your words, you felt him pull back, not only from you defending Lo'ak but at the way you had sounded so much like his mother talking to his father.

He couldn't respond but instead, let his worry fade slightly. However, you watched as the previous panicked look still remained in his eyes and you realized then that this was more than just a reaction to you being out later than expected. There was more to his response and anger towards his younger brother than just making him late for your ceremony. The way he was still gripping you in his hands was all the confirmation you needed.

“What is it?”

His ears perked up at your question, watching as your hands fell from his chest. The concern soon filled your eyes too. Cautiously, you asked again, “What’s going on?”

He then glanced around you at his sister, who was staring at him expectantly. Kiri stepped forward and raised a brow in his direction, “Neteyam?”

With your head tilted up at him, you pushed every flutter, every thrilling feeling he stirred in you away. That's how scared you got when you looked at the expression on his face and the paling of his skin. You watched as his expression set in and let his guard down — that facade of being the perfect little soldier disappeared and all you had staring back at you was a worried young man.

Before he could respond, footsteps caught all of your attention. Neytiri appeared just as furious as Neteyam had moments ago. Behind her, Tuk followed oblivious to all the feelings that were being thrown around the room. At the sight of them, his hands dropped from your arms and he took a step back putting distance between the two of you. You ignored how the simple action played with your feelings because you knew you would have to get used to it — the lack of his physical touch. You were brought back out of your daze, your eyes finally leaving the side of Neteyam’s face as you felt a more petite body collide with yours.

Tuk was hugging you and hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around her. It was the only warm feeling left you could actively acknowledge. Neytiri let out a breath of relief at the sight of you, “Oh Great Mother, you’re here, finally.”

She walked straight by her son who now found the ground much more interesting to look at than you. His walls were back up just like that as the strong soldier he was supposed to be and you all were forced to revert your attention to the importance at hand; your ceremony. His silence was so loud though, it was the only thing that could hold your attention.

“I am sorry Neytiri to have kept you all waiting.”

“Shush,” she stepped forward, hand brushing across your shoulder. She hissed then underneath her breath, her ears flattening slightly, “I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.”

The mention of Lo’ak had your shoulders dropping, the guilt beginning to swallow you that they once again put all the blame on him. As if you were nothing but an innocent child who didn’t know any better, they looked to him expectantly — all of their protectiveness of you overshadowing the poor treatment they were giving him. Even if he had kept you out far later than he should have, he was unworthy of the treatment they were giving him, Toruk Makto’s son or not.

“We need to start getting you ready,” she said then, moving to continue what Kiri had already started with your hair. Her fingers quickly but gently began to undo the remaining braids. Her eyes then flickered up to her oldest son who stood nearby stealing glances at you.

She raised her eyebrow expectantly at him and as if he was about to leave, her husband came barreling into the room but with no Lo’ak following after him. Instead, the younger boy stood outside, leaning against the opening, arms crossed over his chest, and face pulled into a scowl. Jake hesitated from addressing Neteyam as he saw you standing before his wife, luckily unharmed.

Stepping forward, his large palm ghosted over your cheek, that Olo’eyktan look about him faltering slightly, “You okay?”

Your eyes narrowed and you found yourself glancing from him back to his son. Neteyam was already looking at you, his soft gaze completely hidden in front of his parents. You glanced between the two of them and somehow you just knew. They were all keeping it from you and based on their reactions, whatever it was it couldn’t have been good in the slightest.

“Yes, I am fine,” you said, voice wavering slightly as Jake’s hand dropped from you.

Neytiri continued with your hair and all of the women watched as Jake took Neteyam by the shoulder and guided him a few feet away. They both had lowered their voices but even with his efforts, you all were able to hear every word, “Immediately after the ceremony we go, do you hear me, boy? We can’t waste any more time so as soon as it’s over, we call the Ikrans.”

“Yes, sir,” Neteyam nodded, and you felt your heart spike in your chest.

It seemed Neytiri wasn’t entirely aware of the situation either as her movements slowed down and she looked up at her husband questioningly about what exactly he was ordering their son to do. Her eyes narrowed, and the motherly protectiveness built into her DNA showed. She called out to her husband and the two men became tense at her voice. Slowly they both looked up, hesitant about what they should and shouldn’t say. She only saw this seriousness when Jake began to channel his marine side and she felt her stomach prick nervously at how he stepped forward as if he was going to prepare her.

“What’s going on?”

He sighed, “We’ve gotten word that there are sky people close to the border. Far closer than ever before.”

Neteyam glanced over at you trying to gauge your reaction and you felt your whole body stiffen — out of dread, fear of a reality where maybe this would be the end of your avatar form. If another war was going to break out, there would be no room and no safety for you to keep entering the link pod every day. It would all be over and with you still being very much one of them, one of the sky people, you could get shunned from the village.

Jake stepped forward though and tried to ease her worries, “I’ve gotten word that it’s only a few. There is nothing to worry about yet, okay? After the ceremony, Neteyam and I will gather the Ikrans and go see what’s going on. We will be spotting, nothing else.”

Your mouth parted, unable to stop how you instantly looked at Neteyam. When he caught your eye and your expression, he couldn’t help but look away — away from the fear slapped across your face. Neytiri nodded but a part of her still couldn’t let it go, “If it is only a few can’t you order someone else to do it?”

Jake shook his head, “I need to see this for myself to better assess the situation. It’ll be fine, I promise you.”

“And Lo’ak?” Neytiri asked.

“I talked to him, he knows what he needs to know about the situation. Keep an eye on him though when we leave, I can’t have that boy doing anything else stupid.”

Tuk was still wrapped around your body and you felt the way she turned her head into your stomach, trying so hard to understand everything her parents were saying. Jake glanced down at his youngest daughter and knew he probably shouldn’t have said anything in front of her but it couldn’t wait. To avoid Neytiri worrying about it later or feeling blindsided, he needed to say it and somehow the children being present was just unexpected collateral damage. You hugged her tighter to your form, hands rubbing her back softly.

“It’s getting late,” Jake acknowledged, glancing at Neteyam and then back to his wife.

Neytiri nodded, knowing that with time now more important, she had to turn off everything that worried her — every fear or possibility of the worst occurring. Instead, she pushed it all down away with the pain and the grief where she built her strength. As if it hadn’t been the most terrifying news she had heard in years, she pushed it all down and focused on the moment right in front of them. You and your ceremony. Before anything else, that must be completed first and have all of their attention.

She clicked her tongue in the direction of the exit nodding to the two men and accepting her wish, they turned to leave. Neteyam was hesitant for a moment, his eyes scanning over you one more time before he followed after his father. A look you all had noticed. Neytiri glanced from him to you, brows furrowed for a brief moment. She let it go though, deciding not to think about what it meant. Instead, she released your hair from the last braid and ran her fingers through the soft waves.

Kiri went to gather the newly beaded top she had made for you and Tuk released you to follow after her sister. Neytiri smoothing out your hair moved to face you. As she looked down at you, you couldn’t help but notice that her eyes appeared far more gentle than you would have ever thought they would be when looking at you. As much as you had changed, matured, and begun to see the world differently, so did she.

She had learned to accept you as everyone else had and slowly realized how right her husband had been about everything — you, your past, and the hold you seemed to have on her children after all these years. Your heart was kind and strong and belonged among them more than she had ever realized.

She smiled, “How are you feeling? Ready?”

“Yes,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper as you stared over at the beautiful woman who wasn’t that much taller than you.

It was then that Neytiri realized how grown up you were, almost nineteen with an entire life ahead of you within the village. She took notice of how more and more every day you began to appear less like a girl and more like a woman. Even with you only having the avatar for less than a year, she could see how evident the changes were before you. And it all started and ended with how you saw her and everyone around you, with such clarity and endless love.

“I am nervous,” you whispered then and her smile suddenly widened.

“You have nothing to worry about. Eywa has accepted you among the people and understands your heart more than anyone. She sees you and now you will be one of us for the rest of time. Na’viyä hapxì (one of the people).”

You thought you had known what it would be like, what it would feel like. It was a moment you had been thinking about nonstop from the moment Neytiri had granted you permission to learn the Na’vi ways from her son. You thought you had gone through all the possibilities of how it would play out, what would be said, what you would be wearing, and ultimately how you would feel. None of it could have prepared you. Not in the slightest as no one can really understand what being born twice feels like. Or what that level of acceptance feels like. No one can possibly know until it happens to them.

That is what you realized when you walked out a mere half hour later, your head in the stars and body completely lit with the possibilities of life laid out before you. Dressed in the most carefully crafted purple beaded top, you felt the eyes follow you, taking in the new woven necklaces and the sudden way your hair fell so differently. Instead of tightly pulled together in small braids, it fell softly and in natural waves with the top half pulled back out of your face, a large flower laced into it.

White paint decorated every inch of your skin, done by Neytiri, across your entire face, and down your torso. It brought out the gold in your eyes and drew attention to the gentle curve of your lips. A songchord hung from a thin band tightly wrapped around your waist and everyone glanced curiously at the Waytelem and how proudly you wore it. It held very few beads, but the newest sage green hollowed-out bead was the most noticeable.

The clan clumped together in a crowd watching on as the young woman slowly approached the Sully family that stood proudly in front of everyone, all beside Jake Sully the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. They and everyone else couldn’t deny the beauty that was brought out of a person walking with their own heart clasped openly in their hands. At that moment you were no longer an alien to ogle at. The extra finger on both hands didn’t hold any other significance, and you were no longer a sky person to them. Instead, you were just a young woman, a young Na’vi looking to be given a place among the people.

The people began to collapse around you, quiet prayers falling from their lips as Jake stepped towards you, dressed as the king he was destined to be. The Sully family followed, surrounding you; Neteyam on one side and Neytiri on the other. Beside her, Mo’at with Kiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak standing behind you. Your eyes flickered to the side to find Neteyam, his eyes already staring straight at you, shining proudly.

Jake raised his hands up in the air, all attention on him. A smile spread widely across your face as for a moment he was brought back to his ceremony, his own rebirth before the Omatikaya. He knew how you felt, he knew how overwhelming and wonderful it was to be seen differently than the five-fingered alien that stumbled across the village.

He peered into your eyes and fully understood every emotion that flickered within your eyes, “Ngenga ‘ite Omatikayaä luyu set. Na’viyä luyu hapxì (You are now a daughter of the Omaticaya. You are part of The People).”

His hands then fell to your shoulders. Then slowly, following their Olo’eyktan you felt hands appear across your side and along your back — all starting with the feeling of Neteyam’s pressing along your chest, right where your heart was. He felt the way it picked up in your chest and as you glanced up at him, you found him smiling.

Neytiri and Mo’at’s hands were felt across your side and Lo’ak and Kiri’s palms were pressed firmly along your back with Tuk claiming your stomach. From there the rest of the clan followed. People of the village grabbed onto the shoulders of whoever was standing in front of them and just as Kiri had described, a circle had formed, of intertwined arms all connected before Eywa with you at the center — the center of the Great Mother’s heart. Closing your eyes, it was like your life had become complete, like every moment spent in your human form had been a sacrifice that would one day lead you to this.

As you opened your eyes, a single tear falling, you met the gaze of Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, Olo’eyktan, past dream walker and you knew then without a doubt, no matter what happened your life was complete.

As soon as the ceremony was over, you were pulled into hugs, arms clasping around your form, laughter and encouraging words whispered in your ears. The second the circle had started to diminish, you felt Kiri practically leap onto your back, her arms winding under your shoulders to pull you back against her chest. You laughed as her head leaned against yours, her joy painting your skin in the form of tears. You felt another frame sneak around her sister, appearing at your side and swiftly wrapping her smaller arms around your torso, not even caring that the white paint was transferring onto her skin. Tuk.

Neytiri remained in the same spot she had been during the ceremony, the corners of her lips lifted up softly as her eyes glossed over, unable to look away from the sight of her children winding themselves around you. She could see then how wrong she had been. How wrong she had been about it all, evident in the way the children cried for you, their hearts so full of love in that moment You had their hearts and in return gave yours back to them.

As the two sisters finally released you from their grasp, you felt a small tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Lo’ak bashfully staring at you with a small smile, his eyes hesitantly looking over you. His proposal flashed in your head but seeing the boyish expression on his face, your eyes softened and you reached out to him. His whole body flushed with relief as you stepped closer to him. His arms wrapped around your upper back and pulled you tightly against him. He couldn’t help the happiness he felt at the feeling of your nose pressed along his cheek and you returning his embrace just as firmly.

Even with all of the waves of emotions that were drowning you in every positive feeling you could think of, a hole appeared in your chest. One that suddenly caught your attention over the chatter of voices within your ears. It was like you could still feel where his hands were moments before. His absence was prominent and you couldn’t help but look around frantically, spinning around in the hopes you would find his braided hair or brightly beaded chest guard. It was as if Eywa had whispered in your ear to look for him and everything else that had mattered in the forefront of your mind was gone. No, all you could hear pulsing loudly in your ears was... Neteyam.

Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam.

The boy who now could be considered a man had done this for you; had helped you get to this point, had spent countless hours with you telling you every little secret he had within his back pocket about the forest, about the Na’vi, and about Eywa herself. The man who had swept you away without you even realizing it and had captured you with his attractiveness and attentiveness. The future Olo’eyktan who you knew you could never have left an ache in you, one that had altered your very being as dramatic as it sounded. During that time full of celebration and success, all you wished for was to get a glimpse of him.

Your shoulders deflated though as in the swarm of blue, his taller frame was nowhere to be seen. As if he wasn’t even there at all but a figment of your imagination. Glancing around, you realized that Jake Sully was also missing and you knew then that there hadn’t been a moment to waste.

In fact, as soon as you were being pulled into Lo’ak’s embrace, Neteyam was already on top of his Ikran flying off into the night sky beside his father. The only thing occupying his mind was the look on your face when he placed his hands on you during the ceremony.

Just as Jake had stated, the sky people were chipping away at the territory line drawn, marching through in large metal suits carrying guns in their hands. Those who walked bravely on their feet were alive from the oxygen masks pulled tightly across their faces. Others that weren’t holding guns were scanning the area with things Neteyam couldn’t name. But he watched as the machines and glass screens scanned the plants, the ground, and the foliage, all of it searching for traces of either Unobtainium or traces of Na’vi DNA. Either they were fine with. If they didn’t find any, Neteyam watched in horror as they burned whatever was in front of them like it was useless. To them though it was.

Neteyam had witnessed their destructive behavior many times, while he and his brother acted as spotters with their father leading the raids and stealing equipment. There was no empathy, no fairness in the affairs of men, and definitely not in a war. As the strong older brother, he was forced to keep it together for his younger siblings and the people of the clan — that was his burden along with taking on this impossible role. He felt as if Eywa was on their side when the sky people began to retreat the last few years like they were respecting the boundaries. He knew though that they didn’t operate like that and they never had. Their pullback and minor activity allowed the clan to stay in the forest and the village, living as they always wanted. He could see now that they hadn’t pulled back or they had been hiding at all, but rather taking the time to prepare.

Preparing to someday have the technology and the equipment to strike again and have it worth something. It seemed their days of preparing had come to an end and they were ready. Neteyam’s mouth was pulled into a tight line and for a moment his father’s voice droned off — all of the military talk, the orders of strategies, or the terminology that was trying to be passed down from one leader to another didn’t matter anymore. Because from above, for the first time, Neteyam watched his entire world begin to burn before his eyes, and the only sound he could make out was the cries from Eywa herself.

He had gotten back to the village late and it was even later when his father released him from the confines of a long conversation — a conversation he didn’t wish to be a part of. He wasn’t Olo’eyktan yet and even though he had just turned nineteen, no one seemed to see that the warrior before them was still so young. He had duties, and expectations, and just like he had admitted to you all those months ago, he was the protector. The burden installed on a firstborn son as his future was hung up in the stars. He didn’t have time to fall apart.

With that thought, he knew what he did have time for even with the world burning around him — you. Your ceremony, which had seemed so far away for months, had appeared in the blink of an eye. Somehow all of your nights together were behind him. The nights of confessing things he had never thought he could say to another person. Nights where you guys swam in the cool water, soaking in how alive it made you feel. Nights where he had wanted to reach over and hold your hand in his or possibly do something more. All of those suddenly were a part of the past; now that he knew what he knew, he wanted one more.

He saw the lights that were still glowing from the old tree. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe you were there — had decided to wait for him. Left the candles, sat down on a hand-stitched tapestry, and were waiting for him to walk in any moment. He thought about you sitting, bare legs crossed out in front of you, still wearing the hand-crafted beaded top you had been wearing earlier, your soft hair flowing down your back. He thought about your soft lips that would be parted softly in shock when he finally arrived and then instantly lift into a soft smile.

Neteyam wondered what they felt like, how they would fit against his — how they would taste. He wondered how you would taste. Guilt appeared then because this was not the first time he had thought about you this way. In all honesty, it had been going on for months starting at night when he lay awake staring at the ceiling. Then, his thoughts of you changed, starting with your lips, to something less than innocent. He would never admit it to anyone though, not when you were the one on his mind when his hands ended up between his thighs at night.

Somehow it had become normal to him, his hidden affection for you. As well as the desire that filled his body when he thought about you, especially when you looked at him with that pinched expression you usually acquired whenever he was being a jackass. It was wrong of him to do that. It always had been because you were never his and he knew that you never would be. However, it wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it for one last night.

As he stepped into the opening of the tree, he realized that you weren't there at all but it was his two siblings. They were standing close to one another talking under their breaths as if they didn’t want anyone else to hear. Kiri was practically yelling at Lo’ak even with her attempt to whisper, and the tone of her voice felt like a hot knife running across both the boys' skin.

Neteyam approached curiously, not drawing either of their attention. Lo’ak’s arms were crossed over his chest and based on the look in his eye, he was being defensive. That usually meant he had done something he clearly shouldn’t have.

“How could you do this Lo’ak? How could you do this to Y/N?” Kiri snapped for the hundredth time at her brother, a protectiveness over you and a seriousness that she thought he would have understood. A type of feeling she thought they all had for you but clearly, she was wrong because if Lo’ak felt the same, then he wouldn’t have done this. She never sounded this way, this upset.

Neteyam now a few feet from them, watched as Lo’ak raised his hands in the air and let them fall to his sides in annoyance. “To her? Kiri, I am doing this for her."

"Really, are you sure she feels that way?" Kiri sent back.

"It is not that big of a deal. You’re acting as if I did something wrong.”

Her eyes widened and she swore under her breath as her hands tightened at her sides with a sudden inclination to smack her brother across the face. Lo’ak stared at her, waiting for an outburst, or for her to curse him out or worse tell their parents. He waited and tapped his foot obnoxiously.

“Not that big of a deal?” she said then, incredulously, eyes narrowing further, “Lo’ak you asked her to be your mate.”

A second.

The prolonging silence, accompanied by a sweep of denial was the first thing he could feel as the disarming words repeated back in his mind.

Lo’ak you asked her to be your mate. The words felt like an endless pit as they filled Neteyam’s ears, unable to fully register if what he heard was true. All breath had been stolen from his lungs out of disbelief. A disbelief that left him feeling suffocated as his frantic eyes flickered back and forth between his brother and sister.

His hands clenched and unclenched with every second that passed, each becoming more agonizing than the last. The silence was palpable, completely torturous as the words he had never even pondered a day in his life suddenly ripped holes into his body. The shock had taken over his system and like an endless cycle he kept repeating the tormentful sentence in his head and by the third time, he felt the images start to distort before him.

As if he could feel his own cold blood under his touch staining his palms at the sight of you and his younger brother filling his mind. The destruction to his very being. Lo’ak held your hands as he asked you the question that would lead to Neteyam's demise. Lo’ak wrapping his arms around you. Lo’ak kissing you. Lo’ak getting to explore every part of your body that Neteyam had craved for himself like a moth to a flame. Lo’ak mating you. A thought that could only encourage the bullets in his chest to tear and taint what was left of his sanity. You asked her to be your mate.

After the sixth time, the shock seemed to settle in his bones and effortlessly turned to grief. As if the mercy he had begged for was not spared and instead led to his morbid end. Then with a much-delayed reaction, it felt like a kiss of life was bestowed on him. It traveled to his heart in the form of icy water, sending a thousand bolts of electricity through him, telling him to wake up from the bitter daydream.

He was again rewarded with reality perpetuating his mind and brought him back to the sight before him. His sister angrily glared at Lo'ak, who refused to fall honorably under her will and admit that his actions were wrong. It was no longer Neteyam that was in denial but his younger brother.

Then the icy water replaced all of the blood in his body, and a new feeling formed. His eyes twitched, head spiraling with rage, sending his senses into chaos. Unlike all of the times before when he had felt the green monster create feelings of irritation or insecurity, he knew this was something else. No, this was so much more than that.

It was a rage that was felt with every fiber of his being, every nerve of his entire self. That’s how undeniably pissed Neteyam was; like his entire world had crumbled before him and the lone destructor was his brother. His own brother he had spent his whole life being told to protect, taking the blame for because it meant he was doing what was asked of him. All of his life was spent putting up with Lo’ak and sacrificing everything for him. Now, all that was left in Neteyam’s chest was the feeling of complete and utter betrayal. In itself that was the worst rage to have.

“You did what!”

Breaths were stolen as his voice cut through the night's air. His voice sounded so foreign even to himself, so cold, and so desolate of any emotion. With a sharp intake, both siblings turned around.

Kiri stood still as she realized her anger was nothing compared to the future clan leader. To her, it was like a dark shadow had fallen over her brother’s features. He stood, tall, hands tightly bound into fists. She flinched lightly, merely watching as he tilted his head towards Lo’ak. She had never seen Neteyam this angry and she knew that it had been her words that had been the cause of it.

Lo’ak could feel the rage pulsating from his brother’s body, the brother who hadn't thrown a punch at him since they were no older than eight and six years old. His older brother who had always protected him and taken his side no matter what, somehow was no longer there. That Neteyam wasn't there anymore and Lo'ak knew exactly why.

It was you and he knew it because Neteyam wouldn't act like this for just anything or anyone. Lo'ak had known far too well the feelings his older brother harbored for you, secretly of course, because Neteyam could never admit it out loud. It was almost as if you were some secret to keep locked away until nighttime fell. Lo’ak finally knew that the one thing Neteyam suddenly truly wanted, away from everything else he had been given was you. However, the world wasn't set up for people to get what they wanted and Lo'ak couldn't care about Neteyam's feelings.

Because where Neteyam could never have you, he got everything else; the pride from his parents, the praise from the clan, the admiration of all the women in the village, the title of Olo’eyktan, and being described as the headstrong warrior. The older Sully sibling had it all and somehow Lo’ak couldn’t feel bad for what he had done, not when it came to you.

“Oh, look the perfect little soldier has returned,” he said, provokingly, ignoring the way Kiri’s eyes widened at his choice of words.

Neteyam growled under his breath and stepped forward, the anger in his eyes only igniting further, “Really, that’s how you want to go about this right now? Perfect little soldier! Really, Lo'ak?”

Lo’ak’s face twisted, jaw clenching to match his brother’s, “Yes, I think I do.”

Neteyam sighed, one that sounded more dejected than it did angry, “Please don’t tell me that what Kiri says is true. You wouldn’t do this.”

“Except that I did, brother. I asked Y/N to be my mate.”

“Lo’ak,” Kiri warned but he sent a glare her way and suddenly she found herself no longer wanting to intervene.

She shook her head unable to understand what Lo’ak was doing or how he could be saying any of those things — as if his resentment had taken over and his initial awareness of everything else was nowhere to be seen.

Neteyam’s tail swished angrily, aiding in how he kept clenching his fists. His voice was low, scary even, “How could you?”

“How could I? Are you fucking kidding me?” Lo’ak cursed, sarcasm dripping from his voice as you flickered through his mind.

You, Y/N Y/L/N were sweet, strong, and absolutely stunning. You were everything that any man could want and somehow you had gotten yourself all tangled up in a fish line — a fish line that belonged to his brother. A fish line that would never be pulled in. You were falling for Neteyam and Lo'ak couldn’t bare to see it someday destroy you.

Everyone knew about the plan, about Mrs. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the soon-to-be Tsahik and he wasn’t about to watch one of his closest friends waste her time pining over someone she could never have. He wasn’t going to let that happen to you, especially if Mo’at reconsidered your transfer request. He wasn’t about to watch you spend the rest of your life alone, hoping his brother would one day come to his senses. Neteyam was full of too much pride for that and he followed the rules far too close to ever go against what is asked of him.

“Neteyam, you will never be able to be with her, do you realize that?”

His body stiffened at Lo’ak’s claim. How he had been called out so effortlessly after months, after half of a year hiding how he felt about you. After spending so much time hiding it because he knew better than anyone how true Lo'ak's words were. In fact, he was reminded of it every day. Future Olo'eyktan, that's all he had ever been and all he would ever be seen as for the rest of his life. Everyone's expectations of him weren't suddenly known to him.

Lo’ak inhaled, voice lowering slightly, “You can't be with her, and I didn’t do this to hurt you, Neteyam. I did this for her. I don’t want her to be alone. I asked her to be my mate because she deserves someone who wants to be with her. Someone who won’t put everything else before her, especially their duties.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neteyam hissed, voice laced with despair.

“And she at least deserves someone who can admit their feelings for her out loud.”

Even if what Lo'ak said was completely true, Neteyam couldn't listen to him anymore. Instead, he took the time to wonder how Lo’ak had even gotten to the point to ask you this. You were a dream walker. A sky person at night and their mother had firmly set a line, boundaries that clearly stated you shouldn’t be mating with anyone unless you were to become a full Na’vi. His eyes widened then, his thoughts stopping short as he realized.

A full Na’vi.

His face, once twisted in blistering sorrow, now was coiled with anger. Eyes narrowing, they never left Lo’ak's frame, as the question left his mouth like an irrefutable fact. “Why did you ask her now?”

“What do you mean?”

Neteyam took a step closer to his brother, rage the epitome of his being, his protectiveness of you taking priority over everything else, “Mother clearly said that Y/N wasn’t allowed to mate with anyone as long as she was still a dream walker. So tell me, brother, why did you ask her now?”

Lo’ak's eyes fell for a moment, finding interest in the ground, realizing then that the worst was yet to come. As it was the same reason Kiri had been angry with Lo’ak in the first place — it wasn’t because he had asked you to be his mate, it was why he asked you to be his mate. The transfer ritual. The ritual that had the ability to take your life.

“Lo’ak, ‘eyng! (Answer),” Neteyam demanded, already having a suspicion about the answer that would come out of his brother’s mouth. A suspicion of the reasoning behind all of it.

Slowly, Lo’ak lifted his head to look at Neteyam who was full of so much fear it was being expressed as aggression. He shook his head, finally finding the strength to admit it out loud, “Since she went to see Mo’at about a consciousness transfer.”

A second.

Then it was like a bomb went off in Neteyam’s head, a blaring warning of the inevitable end that was soon to come. His ears were ringing and his sight had blurred and at that moment he hadn’t comprehended what he was doing until he had already done it.

The punch had sent Lo’ak barreling back, shock appearing on his face along with a fresh trail of blood falling from his cheek, where the skin had been ripped open. He reached up and let his fingers brush along the cut, hissing out in pain as his older brother stared at him with the coldest look he had ever seen.

Kiri had gasped, “Neteyam!”

“You fucker!” Neteyam mumbled out, hand still tightly clenched together his brother’s blood now smeared across his fist, “You motherfucker. How could you be so selfish?”

“Selfish?” Lo’ak chuckled now just in mere disbelief, “Seriously?”

“You just don’t say anything! You let her request a transfer and you don’t say anything! What the fuck is wrong with you Lo’ak?”

“Neteyam, stop,” Kiri spoke again, her voice firm

Instead, he stepped forward, the furrow in his brow still evident, and fist raising slightly in the air. Lo’ak shook his head and let out a laugh as he glanced down at the drops of blood on his chest “You know what? Fuck this.”

Lo'ak lunged forward then, his hand clasped tightly into a fist, punching Neteyam square in the side of the head. Knuckles broke skin, right above the warrior's left eyebrow. Kiri hissed under her breath, somehow beginning to feel like her mother did when she once had to deal with stupid men and their need to solve problems with their fists, “Ftang! (stop) Both of you.”

Neteyam stumbled back but only for a moment as he regained his strength immediately. He smirked slightly, not even bothering to check the damage as he bound forward again. Getting a hold of Lo’ak, they both fell to the ground and suddenly it had become a conversation turned to punches being thrown back and forth. Neteyam had managed to get multiple in, not even holding back on his strength, until Lo’ak managed to get a leg up in between them, kneeing his older brother straight in the side.

“Ftang (stop)!”

Neteyam’s abdomen clenched and the sudden impact knocked the wind out of him, giving Lo’ak the opportunity to roll over on top of him. Lo’ak with the upper hand began to throw punches into his brother’s sides rather than his face. Hissing out, Neteyam felt his body recoil at every harsh throw to his torso and it was like there was nothing left. Nothing left in him to bargain for or intangibly fix. The pain was all-consuming at that point, his brain unable to wash away the deception he felt.

Letting out a yell, Neteyam sent a barreling hook into Lo’ak’s chin knocking him off balance. With the opportunity, he shoved his younger brother back and off of him. Lo’ak hit the ground hard, his back sliding across the dirt, creating more cuts.

Scrambling up on his feet, Neteyam wiped the blood from his face and stepped towards his brother’s frame, suddenly defenseless. He struggled to breathe but gathered all the strength he could and as he towered over his younger brother, he felt his respect for Lo’ak disappear completely. Staring down, he took notice of the blood sliding down across the side of Lo’ak’s face as well as the deep cut that was made across his upper lip. A bruise was already forming around his eyes, and his hands were splattered with Neteyam’s blood.

As he looked down at him, a flicker of the past appeared in front of his eyes. A smaller Lo’ak, an innocent helpless child who followed him around, asking him to teach him to hunt. A child who paraded around the village on Neteyam's tail trying to get him to play with him. For a moment as he stared down at Lo'ak, all he saw was his younger troublesome brother who was almost two years younger than him. Then in an instant, that old version was gone, like it was nothing but a ghost of the past, and in its place remained the Lo’ak he had been dealing with for years. The one he felt had hurt him in the worst way possible.

Kiri was staring at her brothers in disbelief and watched with fear as Neteyam stood huffing over Lo’ak, still full of so much anger. A look and feeling none of them thought he was capable of directing at someone in his family, let alone his younger brother. Luckily, before anything else could happen, all three siblings felt their attention be ripped away by the sound of heavy footsteps soon accompanied by a bellowing voice. One that was far scarier than even Neteyam’s.

Jake had heard from a rider of the clan that they had spotted his two sons yelling at one another in the old tree. He sighed, already annoyed about having to deliver a long lecture as well as a kick in the ass to both of his sons. A parenting moment that he didn’t have time for. Having heard the rider’s words, Neytiri looked over at her husband in slight disbelief. With Tuk tucked away in bed, both parents began to make their way to the old sacred tree.

What had been described as a mere argument seemed to be so much more as they heard their daughter yelling inside at her two brothers, accompanied by the sounds of colliding fists and painful grunts. They broke out into a run then and as Jake sprinted to the tree, he felt his stomach drop at the sight of his two sons tangled on the ground punches flying at one another.

As he stepped foot inside, he found Neteyam towering over Lo’ak both of them covered in blood and bruises. Kiri stood by, arms wrapped around herself with tears filling her eyes. He surveyed the scene and felt all reason leave his body. His stare hardened and his entire body tensed up at a sight he never expected to see.

“Hey! What the fuck do you two think you are doing?”

As they got closer, Neytiri gasped at the appearance of her two sons, battered and bruised far worse than she had ever seen before. Approaching Kiri, she took her hand in hers while her own expression seethed fire, “Kehe (no)! What happened?”

Jake took a hold of Lo’ak and pulled him up and off the ground, his expression was sharp as knives as his hand firmly gripped his youngest son’s arm.

“It was one thing to hear a rider tell me that he can hear both of my sons screaming and at each other’s throats about something but it was another to come and find you two idiots trying to beat each other to a pulp!”

Neteyam wasn’t even looking at his father, instead deathly still with a distraught look pained across his face. His brother's glare twists in his chest and at the hollow feeling in his throat, he couldn't help but look down at his hands and his body. Blood coating his skin like heavy rain, resembled the only feeling still piercing his chest.

“What the fuck has gotten into the two of you?” Jake demanded.

He was met with a deafening silence. Neytiri hissed at her two sons, the disbelief that such anger could be taken out on each other evident on her face. “Answer your father!”

Feeling the tightness of his father’s grip, Lo’ak's mouth parted like he was going to answer, but before he could say anything Neteyam beat him to it, his voice raw and empty, “Nothing.”

“Nothing, really?” Jake chuckled, angrily, “Why don’t you take a look at your brother’s face and tell me if that does something to jog your memory.”

Neteyam's lips sealed shut, eyes refusing to look away from his blood-covered knuckles. At his silence, Jake huffed so loudly it drew a shaky breath out of Kiri as he directed his glare away from Neteyam to Lo'ak. Except Lo’ak wouldn't dare break first.

Jaked growled, reaching out to grab Neteyma’s forearm to try and get his attention. His glaring eyes could not stop looking between his two sons, ablazed. His sight turned red and his expression was rigid as his teeth gritted together.

“You both better come up with an answer real quick or you’re going to get knots in your tails. You read me?”

His grip had loosened slightly however as he looked back over at Neteyam. The tightness of his jaw and the quiver of his bleeding lips took Jake by surprise. It was a look he had never seen on his son before. Tears welled up in the young soldier's eyes and he fought to keep them from escaping in front of his father. Warriors don't cry and they sure as hell don't cave in. They don't get crushed under the weight of a broken heart because there are others to be concerned about.

With his ears pulled back, he felt the tightness in his chest worsen. Jake shared a look with Neytiri and it was like they both could identify the exact feeling laced across their son's face. Defeat.

Jake's mouth parted in shock as Neteyam suddenly ripped his arm free and turned swiftly on his heels, heading straight for the exit.

“Neteyam!”

#avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction

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boxofbonesfic · 4 months ago

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [7]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 5,123

A/N: thank you all for your patience, and your excitement! we’re checking back in with reader this chapter, and unfortunately, she’s not doing too well. 😅 bottom divider by @firefly-graphics

On the eighteenth day, it rains.

At least, you think it is the eighteenth day.

The rising and setting of the sun only denotes the time of day—there is no clock in this room, no way to mark the longer passage of hours, no calendar with boxes for you to tick off. So you cling to the approximation, it’s the only knowledge—incorrect or no—that you have.

Water streams down the walls of your prison, obscuring the beach beyond. You stare listlessly at the droplets, following them with your eyes as they slide down the glass into the sand. Though you haven’t moved in hours, you’re still strangely exhausted. So you stay there, tucked against the wall where the glass meets concrete. You’d told Ransom and Lloyd to leave you alone and they had followed your request to the letter—you haven’t seen them since your destructive fit.

You’ve already cried yourself dry and hoarse wailing for help, for release, for your family, and though your distress at your current situation hasn’t lessened per-say, you feel a certain sort of numb acceptance. You’ve gone to sleep here and woken up in the ruined bed enough times to know now that this is true, that it is real—

That you have to accept it.

What choice do you have? Raging had changed nothing, only isolating you further. You’ve taken to analyzing every moment in the silence, sifting back through to try and determine the point where it all went wrong. There’s no aha moment, though, no core memory that lights the path to recognition. You remember Lloyd and Ransom in your history classes, hotshot poli-sci majors destined for the big leagues. You knew of them, of course—everyone did. Legacy students with chips on their shoulders and grandaddy’s money in their bank accounts.

Typical.

You almost wish you could go back and tell yourself that you had been right, that your assessment that the Drysdale twins were selfish and self-centered—but it doesn’t matter now. Not with their baby in your belly and the minutes of your life rotting away in this box.

You know what they’re waiting for, waiting for you to admit you want to see them, that you need them, and they’ll come and make everything better. You hate that you want to, if only just to have someone to scream at. You hug your knees. Your family will be home now, back to their lives in the States, having swallowed whatever lies you know the twins must have spun up for them—they certainly couldn’t tell the truth.

She’s sick. Not feeling well. You see, we’ve been taking turns fucking her like our personal cocksleeve.

That would have gone over splendidly with your father.

The hours tick slowly by until you realize you’re rocking, back and forth as you stare at blank space. Your resolve to say nothing, to ask for nothing, feels made now of rubber rather than stone. It’s been two weeks and then some since you’d spoken to anyone or had contact with your captors—your husband.

Ransom had taken the ring when you’d thrown it at him, and you’re still not used to the feeling of not wearing it after two whole years. You run the fingers of your opposite hand over the blank space on your ring finger, over and over again, feeling the little divet where it sat.

The room is four hundred and seventy six steps around, you know because you have paced the width and breadth of it every single day since Ransom and Lloyd had left you here. You could do it with your eyes closed, even—you often do. Today isn’t any different, pacing the wall as you recite something—anything you can think of, usually—as many times as you can. Snippets of books you’ve read, scenes in movies, you replay them all, savoring each instance of remembrance as you feel the silence pressing in around the sound of your voice. That’s the worst part about all of this, you think to yourself as you round the far side of the room for lap number twenty five. They’re not even here for you to scream at them.

They don’t even have to face your wrath, meager as it is. You’re not sure exactly when you’d begun to crave the sound of their voices, perhaps because you know they’re the only ones you have any hope of hearing. You want to cry and scream and wail at them, you want to tear at their faces with your jagged nails—but most of all, you just want them here while you do it.

The quick pace you set around the room lasts until you can’t keep it up anymore. You collapse next to the door, resting a hand on your belly as your chest heaves. The sight that greets you as you stare listlessly out the window is a familiar one, the orange-red sun is pale behind the lingering cloud cover as it sinks beneath the dark, choppy waves. You have seen this eighteen times—and tomorrow, it will be nineteen.

Perhaps it’s the realization you cannot even hear the sound of the water lapping against the sand, you can’t feel the breeze, feel the sun on your skin unfiltered through the eight inch glass.

You can’t even go for a fucking walk.

It’s the knowledge of the agencies you’ve been denied, the freedoms you’ve been stripped of that drives you back to your feet as a frantic intensity grips you. You slam your fists against the door with a hoarse cry, beating against it until your hands ache and sting.

“Please!” Your dry eyes ache for want of tears. “I don’t want to be in here by myself anymore!” You know you’re giving up ground, but you can’t help it. Weeks of complete isolation—of fucking nothing. You try to convince yourself it isn’t a loss, though, that you’re giving in for your own good, not theirs. That you’ll never have an avenue for escape if the door is locked, so you must make them open it. You repeat these reasons and more on a seemingly endless internal refrain as you beg and cry—so much so that you almost believe it when you hear the sound of hinges turning, of dress shoes on bare concrete.

You stumble back from the door, anxiously waiting for the robotic sound of the pin pad on the other side. After six beeps—six, you’re sure of it, and you will remember; six—you hear the locks disengaging, the hiss of the hydraulic hinges. You almost don’t want to look as the door swings open, dragging your reluctant gaze up from the concrete step to stare at the twin in front of you. You hate that you’re glad to see him—you’re glad to see anyone, but your feeble hope that it is your husband who will greet you on the other side of the doorway turns brittle in your chest as you drag your gaze up to his face.

“Hello, Princess.” You swallow thickly at the sight of Lloyd. He’s letting his mustache grow back in now, the light dusting of hair above his lip, the thick chain at his throat, and the slick striped polo are all enough of a giveaway. He grins at you. Besides, you think venomously. What reason does he have to hide, now? Lloyd steps inside, and the door closes behind him with a soft rush of air. He clucks his tongue as he looks at the carnage around you, the destruction you’re no longer proud of—just exhausted with.

“You really have made a mess of things.” It feels like he’s talking about more than the room. His expression is almost affectionate. Your chest tightens.“Let’s see what we can do to fix them.” Lloyd steps closer, and you mirror him with one step back, your body moving without your permission. “Baby, you asked for me to come,” he says, cocking his head. “Or would you like to be alone again?” Lloyd doesn’t say it like a threat, doesn’t weight the words with the implication you know he means.

And yet the idea of being alone in this room—hell, alone in your head—for a single moment more feels like hands wrapping around your throat. The feeling spurs you to speak, swallowing the thick resentment lining your throat to make room for words.

“No.” You say, looking down at your feet. “I—I don’t.”

He smiles. “Good. I don’t either.” Lloyd takes an experimental step forward, and you stiffen—but remain still. The smile widens. “Why don’t you take a bath, Princess, and I’ll get someone to come in here and clean up a little? How’s that?”

“Who?” You know this is bait and you take it anyway. Your options are either to engage with Lloyd—on his terms, always his fucking terms—or to have no engagement at all. “A-are there other people here?” The question lies unasked in the air between you. Will they help me?

“Maybe if we get you cleaned up, and at least get a new mattress in here and some food in you, maybe I’ll tell you.” He’s not bothering to hide his enjoyment, and it turns your stomach.

“I hate you.” It slips out before you can stop it, but instead of getting angry, Lloyd just laughs.

“Oh Princess. I think that’s the best part about all of this,” he runs a hand through his hair before he steps closer. He reaches for you, and you flinch, but force yourself to remain still as he cups your chin. “You really, really don’t.” You’re not expecting him to kiss you, then, to slant his mouth across yours hungrily. You’re too shocked to fight it, standing there shocked as his worry at your lip and he sucks at your tongue until you’re panting, nipples pressing furiously through your nightgown—and then all at once it’s over. Lloyd drags his thumb across your lip.

“Bathroom.” He points. “I’ll join you in a moment.” Lloyd straightens back up, watching you jerk back from him with a pleased smirk. “Oh, and Princess?” He waits until you turn to glare at him over your shoulder. “No peeking.”

You practically flee from him, slamming the door behind you. You press yourself against it, your heart pounding. Pressing a hand to your tingling lips, you fumble at the handle with the other before your brows crease with confusion. To your dismay, there is no lock, only a handle. You’d thought yourself completely dry of tears, but to your surprise, more come, welling up as you slap a hand to your mouth so Lloyd doesn’t hear you sob.

For some reason, you’d imagined your body would reject them, go stone cold at their touch now with how deeply your hatred seemed to burn—but as you reach between your legs with trembling fingers to check what you already know is true, you can’t help but hate yourself just as much.

You’re not supposed to like it.

The bathroom has been relatively untouched by your rage, nothing broken or out of place really beyond a few towels. Your cotton nightgown joins them on the floor as you turn on the tub’s faucet, and it drowns out the sound of moving furniture through the door. There’s an assortment of bath products lined up on the side, all ones you like. You resist the urge to knock them over or pour them all down the drain.

How long had they prepared this place for you? How long had it taken them to plot out each excruciating detail?

How long had they known they were going to?

The door handle clicks and jiggles, and you scramble for a towel as Lloyd enters. You know it’s ridiculous, your fear of being nude before him—he’s seen you naked dozens of times by now, he’d fucked you—but the muscle memory of it remains. He closes it behind him, glancing past you to the tub.

“Oh, lovely.” He steps around you, his hands lingering familiarly on your waist before he reaches for the bottles. Lloyd grabs a few of them, glancing at the labels before making a noise low in his throat. “Ah, this one. You like Jasmine, don’t you Princess?”

“How do you know that?” You glare at him accusatorially as he pours a hefty capful into the water. It begins to foam up almost immediately, the scent of jasmine and roses filling the air. Lloyd removes his rings and watch before dipping his hand into the water, mixing it. You glare hatefully at his back. “Did Ransom tell you?”

“Now why would Ransom have to tell me that?” He glances over his shoulder at you.

“Be-because you don’t know me at all!” You stammer. “That’s why this is all so fucking insane!” It bubbles out of you before you can stop it, frustrated, enraged tears brimming in your eyes. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about me!”

“Is that what you tell yourself, Princess?” He asks, turning to face you. You’re suddenly very aware of how few options you have for space, the way Lloyd has placed himself between you and the door, using your own fear to herd you over to the far side of the bathroom, away from him—and from your escape.

“That I don’t know a goddamn thing about you? That I’ve got no reason to feel about you the way I do?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, people have a funny way of remembering the things they want to remember—come here, Princess, this is supposed to be relaxing,” he cuts himself off, beckoning you with one hand. “I’ve had plenty of time to consider my feelings. Trust me.”

You wait for Lloyd to show signs of impatience, for his lips to crease into thin, angry lines, for his eyes to go cold and hard—but it doesn’t happen. Slowly, you approach, your fist clenched so tight around the towel that your fingers ache. He licks his lips.

“Can’t have a relaxing bath with that on.” He flicks at the hem of your towel with his fingers. “I promise, Princess, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

He’s seen it before. He’s seen it before. Somehow, you still feel like a married woman showing yourself to a stranger when you release your white knuckled grip on the terrycloth, and it falls to the ground between you. You don’t want to see Lloyd’s face so you look at the large bathtub instead, watch the waterline slowly rise as as the seconds tick by.

“Let me help you in.” Lloyd’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he gingerly assists you into the bath. You don’t want to enjoy it, the way you don’t want to enjoy anything he does for you. The tension, the fear—it’s all living in your muscles and in your marrow, and though you don’t want it to, the hot water feels good, damn him. The sound of Lloyd’s belt buckle reactivates your adrenaline, and water sloshes up over the sides of the tub as you sit up, scrambling back.

Fresh fear rises in you as you watch him unclasp the gold chain from around his neck, placing it down next to his rings with a soft metallic click.

“Easy, Princess. Easy.” He steps in, arranging himself behind you as you practically curl into yourself to escape him. “I promised.” He doesn’t bother trying to hide his cock, swelling eagerly against his thigh.

“Excuse me if I find those fucking meaningless,” you spit, flinching as Lloyd cups water over your shoulders. He settles himself in behind you, and you abhor the way your body seems to fit against his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. You hate the way his half-hard cock sits perfectly against you, throbbing whenever you fidget. You’re shocked to find that there is part of you that enjoys it regardless, the closeness, the affection. After so long feeling only your own fingers on your skin, it feels strange and compelling to be so close to someone else. It’s electric to feel Lloyd against you, feels nearly as fitting and right as it had with Ransom—though you assure yourself that is only because they’re practically physically identical.

Was it ever right with Ransom, though? You’re starting to feel like you’d never even known your husband at all. You knew bits, pieces of the whole, but now you’re seeing him as he is… maybe as he’s always been. Or was that just what he wanted me to feel? What they both wanted me to feel?

“Oh you wound me, Sweetheart,” he sighs, reaching for the soap and neatly folded washcloth on the side. “At least your parents think a little more highly of me.” You turn your head so fast your neck aches.

“My parents? You’ve talked to my parents?”Lloyd says nothing, the corners of his mouth lifted into a small, knowing smile. “Where do they think I am?” Lloyd says nothing, and merely begins to wash your back with the soapy cloth, his strokes firm, but gentle. The silence lengthens between you, broken only by the sound of water and breath. It ticks on until you feel the frenzied anxiety beneath your skin erupt out of your mouth.

“Answer me!”

“Princess, I think a much more interesting question is where you think you are.” He swipes it between your shoulder blades, brushing your curls out of the way to get at the back of your neck. When his lips brush the hell of your ear, it’s all you can do not to flinch. “Where do you think you are?”

You’re tempted to answer snarkily, or better yet, to turn around and try your hand at hitting him as hard as you can—but something inside tells you that that will end worse than it had with Ransom. Instead, you force yourself to actually think. The days are long, tropical, hot. You can’t feel that heat, of course, not from inside your room, but the sand, the sea, the trees…

“You never moved me. We’re still on Mykonos.”

Lloyd’s brows rise, but he smiles. “You’re so fucking smart, Princess. Anybody ever tell you that?” The praise feels wrong, sliding down your skin like oil. You don’t want to accept it—and because you cannot accept it, you attempt to ruin it.

“Not smart enough to see you coming.” You retort, but the venom either doesn’t phase Lloyd, or he’s just that good at disguising his own offense, but he just continues to clean you up like it doesn’t bother him one bit. He’d been eager to get the trip started—more eager than anyone else. He’d been in a rush, you realize now, to get you here. To get to the good part, the part where he got to have you alone and defenseless. And worse, he got to have you with permission. Perhaps that’s why he’s so patient. He can afford to be, after all.

“I loved you the minute we met. You know that?” He’s busy working shampoo through your hair, raking it through the tangled mess until it falls neatly, laden down by product. “You never thought I was serious back then.” Lloyd chuckles in that way that reminds you of Ransom. “Maybe I wasn’t. But I am now—we are. About making a life for you, for us.” His hand travels around to cup the barely-there swell of your belly. “For our family.”

“Stop it!” You hiss, your teeth gritted. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to hear him spout words of devotion to you because they feel too good to hear—it feels good to hear anything at all after nearly two a half weeks of only your own sobs for company—

“Stop what?” You throw his hand off of you as you whirl to face him, water splashing out loudly onto the tile.

“Stop pretending like you’re doing this for me instead of to me.” You snarl. “You—”

“Are supporting your family.” He reminds you. “Nathalie gets to finish college debt free. Your father gets first pick of every single construction job in the city.”

“And I get to be a prisoner.” As Lloyd rinses the shampoo from your hair, you cannot help but wonder which was worse—the unknowing way you’d allowed the both of them to violate you, or sitting here in the aftermath, knowing you’d never had a chance anyway.

“Where’s Ransom?”

“Sick of me already, Princess?” Lloyd asks, and you clench your teeth to keep from answering. “He’s a little busy at the moment. But I’m not gonna lie, I’m not disappointed he couldn’t make it,” Lloyd spreads the butter onto his baked potato with relish before his blue eyes flick up to yours. “I like having you all to myself, sometimes.” He hadn’t touched you in the bath, true to his word—but you can see the desire plainly on his face now, and it makes you squirm uncomfortably.

“You’ve never had me all to yourself, Lloyd.” You remind him. “I—I married Ransom.”

His smile doesn’t disappear, doesn’t even lessen. If anything, it gets bigger. “Haven’t I?” He chews thoughtfully. Ransom had told you the-the sharing had begun a year ago, but… but what if that wasn’t the first time?

What if that was only when they’d made a habit of it?

Your stomach lurches, and you swallow bile, suddenly less hungry than before. You don’t know if you want an answer to this question. Instead, you circle back.

“You said if I let you do what you wanted, you’d tell me if there were other people here.” Lloyd’s eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Is that what I said?” He hums. “No good hotel runs without staff, Princess.” You scoff at his answer. “Of course there are a few dedicated employees.”

“And my parents?”

“I believe I promised you one answer for good behavior, Princess.” Lloyd practically purrs the pet name at you. “Not two.” You’re tempted to argue—you want to, but you understand a warning when one is given. The way you skirt the edge of his patience makes you angry with yourself, but when you think again of the two and a half weeks of silence, the long days spent rambling to yourself so that you would hear something, anything—you cannot experience that again. So you sit prettily as he fusses over your hair and your skin, swallowing your self loathing.

He helps you dry off with the fluffy, comfortable towels you’ve been refusing to use, taking great care to rub cocoa butter into the supple skin of your belly. And when you emerge back into the bedroom, only evidence of the most heinous of your acts of defiance remain: the cracked mirror above the dresser, many of the draws missing—you had smashed them to bits against the unyielding windows. Everything that wasn’t too heavy to lift had been subject to your rage, even the mattress. But now, it’s almost like it had never even happened.

The bed is freshly made, floor swept clean of debris. And on the new table—made of dark, heavy wood—there is dinner. And it’s real fucking food this time, not just a bland chicken salad sandwich cobbled together on dry bread. Roast chicken, carrots and potatoes are steaming on the plates, a bowl of salad between them. Your stomach twists at the sight of it. Shrugging quickly into one of the many pairs of plain white tank-tops and shorts sitting on top of the dresser, and make a beeline for the food.

Lloyd emerges from the bathroom moments later, his polo shirt laid over one arm, his briefs slung low on his damp hips.

“Oh good, dinner.”

You sit awkwardly across from him, attempting to split your attention between eating your food and watching Lloyd.

“How long do you plan to keep me here?”

“I’d be careful with the questions, Princess.” He says, fixing you with a warning look as he chews. “Some questions have answers you’re not gonna like.” Somehow, that tells you everything anyway, and you feel yourself shiver, but not with cold. His eyes are hard when you meet them.

“That long, huh?” You ask, turning to stare at the dark, troubled sea through your window. It feels like you’re in a movie—a fucking horror movie. Lloyd sighs.

“Think of it like a vacation. No work, no responsibilities—”

“Lloyd, please.” You can’t look at him. The rage, the terror—they’re all boiling over inside of you, and if you look at him, if you see his fucking face, you know you’ll lose it. And if you do, you have a feeling that you won’t recognize yourself if you’re left alone for another two weeks. So instead, you stare out at the water, chewing up the words you want to say and swallowing them back down.

“This isn’t a villa, it’s a prison. I can’t—” you choke back bitter tears. “You won’t even let me outside.”

“You’re getting yourself all worked up, and you’re not going to be able to keep down your dinner.” He places a hand over yours, and the shock of his touch makes you jump, reeling back. “When we can trust you, Princess, then we’ll talk about day trips.” Hope lights a tiny candle in your chest.

“We will?”

“We will.” He points at your food with his fork. “Now eat up.” You do, forcing yourself to eat every bite on your plate. When Lloyd bids you goodnight, he tucks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up until you’re forced to look at him.

“Goodnight, Princess.” He kisses you again, disgustingly softly.

—

You sleep fitfully after Lloyd leaves. Turning back and forth, kicking the cotton sheets off until they lay in a heap at the bottom of the bed. Sweat sticks your tank-top to your clammy skin, and as you wake for the nth time that night, the memory of what scant dreams you’re able to achieve brings heat to your cheeks.

Hands on your skin—two sets of them—prying open your lips to rest on your tongue, sliding between your legs—

You wake in your new bed feeling testy and anxious, glowering at the sunlight glinting sharply off the water. Clean clothes lay folded on the dresser, a pitcher of water and cups now sat on a rolling tray by the table. It isn’t lost on you that as soon as you’d begged for them the quality of your care had vastly improved. You’re reluctant to admit that it’s a relief, not sleeping on the mattress you yourself had destroyed, avoiding the splinters of broken wood on the floor.

But now there are none.

The tile floor is swept clean, the new mattress bearing fresh sheets, the new furniture polished to gleaming.

This is what you can have if you forgive us, the neatly folded clothes in the new dresser-drawers seem to say before you close them again with a sharp snap. This is what you can have if you give us forever.

All you have to give is forever.

The room seems somehow larger now, since Lloyd’s visit, emptier—lonelier. You resolve not to ask them for anything again, ignoring the desperate, terrified part of you that dreads a return to the silent nothing. They’re smart—there’s not even a book in here for you to entertain yourself with. Through them, that good things flow, you know that’s what they’re trying to teach you. The part that sickens you most is that it’s true—and has been for a long time. You cannot remember the last time you’d had to pay a bill or concern yourself with the cost of living. You don’t even know what Ransom pays in rent for the apartment—you don’t know that you ever even did.

You get out of bed, pulling the sheets back up over the spot you’d vacated as you take stock.

Normally, your chicken-salad sandwich would be on a clean plastic tray in front of the door, but today there is nothing. You are not a creature of habit by nature, shakeups in your routine typically do nothing more than irritate you. But for some reason, this makes you antsy, anxious.

Had you upset Lloyd last night with your questions?

Why do you even care?

As you contemplate what you’ve given away without knowing it, you hear the sound of the outer door opening. You don’t know what it looks like outside of your room, not really, but you’ve caught snatches of the concrete hallway and stairs just beyond the doorway. The sound of the pinpad echoes in the quiet room before the door opens.

Ransom steps over the threshold, a tray held steady in his arms.

“Good morning, Sweetheart.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare at him, your lip trembling as you try to bite back on the overwhelming emotion that fills you at the sight of your husband. “I missed you so much.”

to be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris evans #cevans #cevans fandom #cevans fic #chris evans fic #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen smut #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x you #lloyd hansen x you #doppelganger fic #darkfic #smut

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aphroditesmoon · 4 months ago

Text

death grips

modern!jacaerys velaryon x fem!vampire!reader.

summary: you live vicarously through passing mortal's eyes as a creature of the night, doomed to a life of immortality, and jacaerys is the hand that extends, an opportunity you're reluctant to welcome.

warnings: biting, blood drinking, descriptions of assault, mentions of self harm, vampire esque violence, writer!reader, reader's characterization is highly inspired from the book "Woman, eating."

wc; 5.7k

special dt for my babe @hxtd

YOU HAVE NEVER felt so hungry. It has been at least two weeks and a half since you fed.

You have suffered longer weeks before, impressive lengths of starvation that you held on to the same way mortals do with air. It was a test at first. You wanted to see how far you could take it, how much until it would finally kill you.

The answer was disappointing. You had walked around the city aimlessly for almost 3 months, staggering as you moved, hands trembling and eyes wild as your stomach churns and begs for blood.

But you did not die. You merely suffered like a living corpse.

Once the realization set in, the starving had soon morphed into a form of self-destruction. A penance you inflicted upon yourself.

Death would never take you. No matter how hard you've tried, your curse was to never have an end to your suffering.

Even as the scars healed and the monsters died. The sorrows and the horrors you've endured replays themselves like clockwork in your mind everyday.

To try and enjoy life like humans do was impossible. Life did not feel worth living when you've died a thousand times, but your body refused to rot.

You thought you knew grief when your mother died, but the universe played a cruel joke on you on the day you were turned a vampyr. A young girl you were, still growing, and kept growing even after you were turned. And yet once you turned 18, your body's growth froze itself, and you then had to learn how to mourn the girl that you were, and the girl you could've been if it had just never happened.

Now, you merely endured.

I've grown weaker somehow, you thought to yourself. The pit of your stomach burned as you rested your head against the hard brick of the nightclub building. You could hear the loud music bouncing through the walls, the tunes so vivid in your ears.

You figured you'd make your attack inside, surrounded by drunken visions and easy targets. No one looked twice at the girl with her face buried a random person's neck in a club at saturday night. But then you heard him before you felt him. His ragged breathing. He watches from afar, predatory eyes and a perverse mind, coming up with ways he would entrap you.

So you make your way to the side of the building where the wind is soft against your skin, making a rise of goosebumps. And like a dog, he followed you.

He thinks he's quiet with his steps, but you can hear arrogance a mile away, and with those impatiently big steps, you feel bloodlust in your veins and on your tongue. You clench your jaw as you feel his presence next to you.

"What are you doing out here when the fun's all inside." His scratchy voice spoke up. You could smell the vodka coming out of his breath, and more importantly, you coulf smell the tangy metallic scent of his blood.

You moved only your gaze up to meet his eyes. And at once, you were ready to pounce. He was so near. So big and so weak, unknowing on what is about to happen. But as his quick hands moved to snake around your waist, another voice intervened, suprising both of you.

"I would think twice before touching her." The other man spoke.

He looked straight at your meal, standing only a few steps away from him. When did he get so close? You did not hear him.

"Walk away man, this is my girl." Your almost victim answered back in annoyance. You tilted your head to get a better view of your supposed hero, curiosity overcoming the hunger.

"Right, that's why you were staring off at her for 3 whole minutes from the other side of the road before you got here." He sassed back.

"Why the fuck were you staring at me for 3 whole minutes ass face." Your meal shouted, his patience thinning.

You wanted to shove his face against the concrete when he had the audacity to grip your waist. But instead, you just cracked his fingers apart from you as he yelped out in pain. "The fuck-"

"Walk away until your legs fail you and forget this ever happened." You muttered at his face before pushing him off of you.

The shock in his fave dissolves slowly, he turns to the other man and back at you in confusion before walking off like you compelled him to.

You watched him until he disappeared from your eyesight, hunger returning again, now that the entertainment has ended. Maybe you'll just eat this one, you thought.

No, you shook your head slightly. You don't kill good men. But a bite would not hurt.

"Are you alright?" He asked you, you could tell the concern was genuine. He neared you until he could see you clearly under the night sky.

He had a regal looking face, one could even say royalty, and a tinge of sincerity in his eyes that added to his charm. You nodded your head once and looked him up and down.

"Not to sound like that kind of guy, but being in a dark, empty space alone in a place like this is like a death wish, isn't it?" The corners of his eyes crinkles as he questions you.

"Maybe I'm suicidal." You retorted in a monotonous voice. "And this is really how you wanna go?"

A smile forces its way on your face, no more arguments left in you.

"Does my saviour have a name?" You shouldn't have asked. Not when you're planning to drain him in a few minutes. As much as your kind claims to be the creature of the night. When the doors are closed and the bloodstains are washed off, guilt washes over you the same way they do to anyone. Attachment is never a good idea.

"Jace. Jacaerys." He had a small smile of his own. "Jacaerys." You enunciated every word with a raised brow. "You must be someone's rich son with that kind of name."

His face flushes and he immediately shook his head, eager to change the subject. "And what's your name?"

You gave him your real first name and felt a small sense of freedom released from your hollow soul.

Everything went quiet then. He looked at you as if he had more to say but his lips were currently sewn. It was either now or never, you've done this a million times, and your aim isn't to kill anyways. But at this very moment, you just noticed that you had completely tuned out the music, the honking cars and the chattering voices. You only heard your own slow beating heary, thumping gently by your chest.

----

Everyone has a little voice inside of them. The voice of reason, voice that intrudes, the voice that weighs the good and evil.

But the voice in your head took the form of the younger version of yourself on th day you were turned. Tha child had been strongly hurt. And you'd like to think that you've quite moved on from what happened, and yet, stuck in your nervous system, like a ghost that haunts, she speaks to you like she is her own person, apart from you.

And as of right now, as you let Jacaerys walk you home, the voice is yelling out insults and scratching at imaginary doors as if imprisoned.

He isn't like that. You tell her. I can tell, i can see it in him.

The voice gives up, all she does is ask one last question before you shut the locks on her completely. And how has giving a strange man the benefit of the doubt served you before?

Your mother died when you were only 8. She was no saint, but she was the only person in the world who had a single goodness to offer you.

After her death, your father's violent tendencies worsened. You had to walk to school for 45 minutes back and forth every day for scraps of education. Every penny he made had been used for liquor and weed. Food became a privilege you had to earn, not a right. If you're lucky, you'd get to eat at least once a day from a portion big enough for a rat.

Because he did not care for you anymore. It was evident then that you could either be invisible, or abused. And for a long time, neither options were something you could just wake up and choose for.

It depended on his mood that was rarely well. And it's worse on nights he's drunk of his ass, insisting that you are the mirror of your mother.

The day you were turned, was the day everything changed.

You were 13.

13 and walking back home from school. And there he was, your maker.

It was dusk then. The sun had sank down. Not that it would make a difference, The heat would've never burned him to death.

And as the dark angel approached you, with red eyes and sharp fangs, like a story you've heard to keep children off the streets after sunset, you're shaken, halted in place.

He was terrifying, but he had looked at you with what could be interpreted at that time as adoration.

But he was no father of the orphans, nor is he a lover of the helpless. No, he was a perpetrator. He is the evil that mothers warn their babies of. He wasn't some wretched creep wanting a feel like all the other men. He was worse. He perversed innocence, and intimacy, you understood it immediately as you're left to pick yourself back up from a back alley, bleeding and gnawing with your newfound teeth, hours after he had drained and fed you.

Despite the newfound strength you had gained becoming immensely helpful when it came to your father, you would never claim it to be a gift. For every defense it had a hand in, it also took, and took and took from you. You were a changed woman at the age of 13, that was the cost of naivety.

"I am not so stupid now", you whispered under your breath.

"Hm?" He looked to you, eyes wide. You hummed ignorantly, facing the road again.

The streetlights brightened your path as you made your way to the large apartment building. Jacaerys struggled to find words to keep the conversation going, but you could feel the screws and gear going off in his pretty head, itching to come up with something smart.

If he were to ask questions, you'd give one word answers and it'll be back from square one. If he were to talk alone, that would be egoistic and irritating.

So instead, he chose to try and make his own assumptions. "You are an artist." He said confidently.

A smirk shadowed your features. "What makes you say that?"

"Most masochists are." You laughed then. Something you haven't done in a while. "I'm a writer." You corrected.

Understanding flowed through his eyes. "Of course you are." He smiled, nodding to himself. "So are you the kind that writes of murder fantasies or are you more of a torturous poet kind of girl?"

You liked him, you decided then. There are lots of things that can make a man attractive, observance is one of them. "A little bit of both. Poetry is essential, and sometimes from the torture and the poetry, a story can be born."

He hummed attentively. "You are a student too, i assume?" You nod. "That's where I study." You pointed a hand towards the glowing building of your university, a sight ti be seen from miles away. "No shit?" He laughed.

"I go there too." He follows up after. You weren't suprised, he looked the typento be able to afford to study there. In a different universe where you were a common girl, neither of you would have ever bunpedinto eachother in this kind of setting. Money had always been an issue back then, and before you had been cursed, you would imagine years of school work being flushed down the toilet as you knew that your dream to further your studies would never be funded.

But now your father's funds and your mothers inheritance are fully under your responsibility as your deadbeat old man lies in a nursing home all the way back in your village.

And if those funds run out, scamming rich men would become your career. You can even start with this one, you joked to the voices.

"And let me guess, finance?" You nudged him with your shoulder. He scoffed and rolled his eyes teasingly. "Business major actually."

"Of course you are." You used his own sentence from before.

His grin was endearing, you almost flashed one of your own back, teeth and all.

The two of you stopped right in front of the main doors and felt disappointment lingering. Should you have talked more as you walked before? No. You did the right thing, to fawn over some business student with great hair isn't a you thing to do, you guard your boundaries strictly.

And yet, as long as you can remember, you have never met anyone that made you want to talk this much.

He looks at you with eyes that were begging you to invite him in, but if you do, there would be no going back. You would eat him, or you would string him into your mess of a life that he could never understand.

So you gave him one last glance before you began to enter the building. "Thank you." Was the last thing you said to him before you returned to your seclusion, and his deep brown eyes was the last thing you thought of before you fell asleep.

—

He felt his heart beating fast as he watched you disappear into your apartment building that night, a sense of regret washing over him regret of what, he's not so sure. Or was it longing that he actually felt?

It doesn't matter. He had done what he's supposed to, what conflicting emotions he's left with after was not your responsibility, it is his own to look after them.

Jacaerys knew who you were when he saw you that night, or the right rephrase for the sentence is, he remembered you.

You clearly don't recognise him, but he still remembered the first time he laid eyes on you during an unremarkable welcoming frat party on the first week of his semester. You had appeared on the staircase, leaving Dalton Greyjoy's room. The boy had been absent for the rest of the party that night.

Jace wasn't sure just what it is about you that had stood out to him. You dressed just like any other girl, you walked just like any other girl, and yet he noticed how dead your eyes were, not a single shine nor expression. It almost felt sociopathic to look that uncaring. It was alluring.

And yet, a few nights ago, when he had walked you home, your dead eyes glowed slightly under the moonlight, and your rare smiles occasionally made an appearance. He decided then, to retract the opinion he had made before knowing you.

Whatever it was about you, he wanted more. He wanted to know more, to experience more. To be the one who filled sparks in your dull orbs and to be the one who knew how to fish out a laugh from inside.

And so he decided to look you up. All he had was your first name and your course name, even with the privilege of being the dean's son, going through the list of over a hundred thousand people with the same name was a chore, but he was willing to put in the work.

But gods, how disappointed he felt when he couldn't find you after hours of scrolling. There was only 150 students with the name, and none of them were you, and all had different courses.

He wondered if maybe he had spelt your names again and had come up with a list of different variations of your name to try again. By the time he finished, it had been 2pm, and he had remained unsuccessful in his pursuit.

Jace slumped on his chair, closing his eyes as he ran his hands over his face in frustration. This was incredibly stupid. You probably lied about your name because you didn't like him. Why didn't he think about that before?

And trying to hunt you down using his mother's official email adress was starting to explain why you were right to do so.

The right thing to do right now was to leave it up to fate. He saw you once, and then twice. What are the odds of a third time?

That has always been a fatal flaw in Jacaerys' personality. He wanted to believe that things that are meant for him will find him, but he is also very impatient. Always eager for the feeling of control. Fate is only fun as a concept.

But accepting fully that you might not get the things you want the most because it's just not for you is harder than it looks.

He wanted to believe that if he were to try enough, he'd get what he wanted despite the universe's intervention.

And right now, what he wanted is to find you, to learn the proper way to know you, to really know you. While his presence had been seen as amusing to you, yours have bewitched him. If you were to tell him to leave you alone, he would. But first he would try.

Jacaerys opened his tired eyes again, facing the bright screen of his laptop. The battery was dying. Jace stood up to pull out the charger before plugging it into his laptop, watching it brought back to life again before he sat back down on his chair.

He could go back to sleep now, or he could try again for the 4th time. He wanted to try again, bit as his eyes fluttered sleepily, fighting against his will, he decided to give in and turned off the device before climbing onto his bed.

Let fate intervene, and if he never sees you again, he'd learn to live with that.

This is just an infatuation, he told himself. Infatuation dies when you don't feed it, and so this too shall pass like everything else in his life. As he lets sleep overtake, he dreamt of empty oceans and hollow skies hovering above, sand through his toes as he walked closer to the body of water. And your voice, speaking from behind him, saying: "you don't survive loneliness, you accommodate it."

—

The water under the bridge was so clear that you could see the small shape of your reflection from above.

It's 3AM, and the quiet is calming. It's hard to find peace of mind as someone whose senses are heightened. And what other time do you have for a walk anyway?

You've stood here for a good hour now, just staring down while your thoughts run wild, Tchaikovsky's Valse Sentimentale playing in your airpods on repeat. It's been 3 days since you fed. After you were walked home by Jacaerys, you found that your only option was the security guard on a smoke break by the bathroom.

Ever since then, you have resumed your routine of boredom. Attending your afternoon classes and walking for hours in the evening until night, imprisoned by your thoughts.

You were sure that there was no one in the world who loved revisiting the past as much as you did. After all, the past is all you have.

When you were first turned, there had been no words to describe how it all felt. The overwhelming hunger and confusion, the survivors guilt, blaming yourself and going over the scenario over and over, trying to imagining how different each outcome would be if you had acted differently, if you had ran faster, pushed harder.

Amd even now, there are no words. Was this how Laika the dog had felt? Saved from the streets of Moscow to be sent up to space as the pride and joy of Russia in the space race, but doomed to die by the narrative from the start. To think that you've finay been saved, just to be pushed into a much worse and scarier circumstances? That must be it.

What am I doing? Compare myself to a dead dog. At least Laika died. You can't even do that.

Shoving yourself away from the railing, you decided it's time to go home. So you turned yourself to your right and began to make your way to your apartment.

Funnily enough, you felt your ankles ache as you moved. Your feet is heavy in your one inch heels, that's a first.

You smell the smoke of cigarettes as you crossed an alley, the cold breeze enhancing the scent. You've always had an addiction to them, smoke scents, gasoline scents, bug spray scents, there was something soothing in it. You slowed your steps down and took in as much as you could before exhaling slowly and oicking up your pace.

Something has changed recently. But you can't quite put a finger to it. It was just that you were beginning to feel more pain than usual, you were also feeling more lost and conflicted than usual.

You had always known what your life plan would be like, how once you've reached an age that you aren't able to explain non existant ageing, you'd start all over again until you make enough money to buy yourself some privacy and isolation.

You'll spend the thousands of years to come reading and writing until your hands fails you and your fingers break.

But these past few days, your resolve has been cracking. Is that really what you want? To be so goddamn lonely forever, so alone that not even death can be honoured to it.

It's not about what I want, it's what's going to happen anyways.

Footsteps. Loud and clear footsteps. You stop on your tracks and crane your neck to look behind you. There is no one there.

Absolutely nothing.

You look back to your front and tried to start walking again, but you're stuck, like you're being held back.

It's hard to see in the dark, since when was it hard to see it in the dark? The panic hasn't settled in yet, you were still rational. Or maybe just too tired to freak out.

But when you heard the voices, Your body shook. It was as if your whole world jas been frozen in time, and shadows loomed over your shoulders, taunting you, speaking to themselves in languages you can't understand.

Loud and clear, you feel the darkness around you and you hear their chatter. What is going on?

"Stop it." You muttered out. Thats was supposed to be a scream. "Stop it." You repeated.

Why can't I fucking move? "Stop it stop ot stop its stop it stop it-" You couldn't find the scream in your throat. You had obly your trembling legs and arms as prove that this was real.

When you cracked your head and you're finally able to spin around, every single vision and noise faded into nothingness by a second, and the alley was just an alley. Not even the smoking man was there anymore.

The last thing you saw from your hallucination before it turned into air was a white line, by your feet, like a moving animal that vanished when you flashed it with your phone screen.

"What the fuck." This could not be happening. You looked around you with furrowed brows, your stomach growled. "Jesus fuck."

You hear ambulance sirens away from where you're standing and physically flinch. Was that real or a hallucination, too?

It has been long since real fear had ever crept into your cold soul. But now, your head is dizzy, and every little thing you see and hear feels like an attack.

I need to move. You force yourself forward, counting from 1 to 50 over and over as you walked in the direction of your apartment. But you're weirdly slow, and nauseous.

You pause again like you've been struck by something and looked up to the sky. The dark clouds hung over you moved slowly but surely as it's supposed to be, you find comfort in knowing that the stars are at least real.

And then you felt a hand on your shoulder and jumped. "Fuck."

It was him.

You faced him with an annoyed expression, wondering where he came from. He spoke your name once. Your real name, not the one you give to everyone else.

"Are you following me?" You snapped at him.

His face went from worried to defensive. "No, god no. I'm just heading over the uni library to work on a late assignment that's due this morning, and I saw you walking. I was gonna leave you alone, but you were stopping a lot, and you don't look very good."

You studied his face for any deceit and found none. "I don't feel so good." You admitted honestly.

"What are you doing up at 3AM?" He shook his head.

"Taking a walk." You mumbled while massaging your temple with your thumb.

"Taking a walk?"

"Yes, and I'm leaving now, so you can go do whatever you're about to do." You did not wait for his answer and left immediately, but just as you silently expected, he followed you.

"I'll walk you home." He offered, or stated moreso.

I don't need you to walk me home like some guard dog, you wanted to say. But deep down, you were kind of grateful for some company after what had just occurred.

"What about your assignment?" You asked. The route you were using was the opposite of where he's going.

"It's not important." He assured, fixing his laptop bag on his shoulder.

"Not important?" You shot him a glance. "I can cram it in 2 hours before the submission time." You'd argue in a different night, but it wasn't this one.

The first few minutes of the walk, you were resigned to being silent, going over what had just happened to you over and over. Your first thought was that something more evil and monstrous than you cursed you for something you had done.

You wouldn't call yourself the devil, but you haven't exactly been the nicest person to people around you. Had you bitten a witch's man or something?

The second assumption that so far has sounded the most logical, is that you're insane. You've had hallucinations before of course. Little voices in your head. Hearing things that aren't there, seeing shadow people. But they always disappear on second glances, fast enough for you to blame it on the trick of your mind.

But the recent one? It was vivid, and clear. It was real. Or at least to you it was.

You were glad Jacaerys wasn't forcing a conversation either, but once you reached your apartment, you turned to him and asked him the one thing you wanted to the first time you met him. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes." He answered, too quickly. "Okay."

You made him a cup of tea as he politely sat on the couch, bag on the floor. "Sugar or no?"

"Sugar." You added sugar.

You'd get him something to eat too but in truth, you have nothing. There are stale biscuits that exists in your kitches as fillers to the empty space and some fake fruits on the counter, but nothing truly edible.

"Here." You placed the cup into his hand, your fingers brushing together.

You move casually to the seat opposite him and laid down on the cushion, facing him.

He had questions. That was obvious.

"Cig?" You offered, pulling out a pack and a lighter from your back pocket. "No thanks." He declined politely.

Your hands shook lightly as you struggled to light the cigarette, balancing your elbow on the material of the couch, you try again and succeeded this time. You feel the whole day's exhaustion catch up to your tired body.

"So what happened back there?" He spoke finally. You looked up to him. "What?"

"I saw you then, you were just standing. You looked lost, what happened?"

"Oh that." You shrugged. "I thought I saw something." He nodded slowly, taking in your words. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" You raise a brow. "Saw something."

You gave yourself a second to really think before you answered, "Yes, I did."

He did not push for more answers surrounding the situation, accepting your response as it is.

He leaned back against his seat, relaxing properly. The small dim light that shone down on the righy side of his face makes his eyes look like they're golden, the same way yours would be sometimes when you fed.

The idea of Jace as a vampire is conjured in your head for a moment, you imagined he'd be the good kind. The type to suffer guilt for every kill and never get used it. Or perhaps you're wrong and he's much more resilient than you think.

As you settle into your thoughts, finally having the space to unravel from you earlier fears and shock, you notice just how disheveled he looks. It wasn't that he looked a mess, but more that he's such an open book to the poinf that his emotions are all over his face against his will.

"You look tired." You chose your words carefully, trying to open through his cracks.

He shifts slightly, looking up to you from the carpet. "Tired? No, no I'm good."

You gave him a few seconds, letting the silence push him.

"I'm just a bit frustrated." He continues. "Oh?"

"I had a fight with my mom this evening." You hummed, letting the context of it all fall together. "What did you fight about."

"She says I'm distracted- from my classes." Jace shrugs.

"Are you?" He raises a brow. "Distracted, i mean."

He hesitates but then chooses to deny it by shaking his head. "Sometimes there are things you can't help but be completely average at. There are classes I excel in, and there are those I just can't force myself to."

"I'm sure that's not true. You put enough effort, you do good in it even if you believe you won't."

"Maybe." He idly agrees. "But what if I don't think it's important enough for me to put all my energy in until it drains me too much that I can't do what I like?"

You offered him a small smile and copied his earlier shrug. "Then you just don't do it. I guess in the end, it depends on how much you want that thing to happen or work. And if you don't want it that much, then it shouldn't matter."

"Exactly."

Quietness seeps into the are again very slowly, but before it could catch up into awkwardness, Jace spoke again.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" You asked, amused.

"Do you often see things that aren't real." Whatever response you had in mine died in your throat and was replaced by a suprised laugh. "Excuse me?"

He grinned. "Just making sure you're not schizophrenic."

"And what if I was, is that a turn off for you?" You retorted teasingly.

"No, of course not. I like my women neurotic.”

"And I like my men credulous."

You stood up and grabbed his empty mug to clean it at the sink, but his own hands were wrapped over yours, stopping you. But before he could offer assistance, you said; “Let me get us something stronger than tea.”

—

You awoke the next morning, comfortably on the right side of the bed with your blanket over your shoulders, a position you rarely place it in.

The soft sounds of footsteps force your eyes open immediately as you twist yourself to face the ceiling. You push yourself upwards using your elbows, looking fixatedly on his naked back that's hovering over your desk.

"You're still here." You stated the obvious.

"What's the rush." He mumbled back, you can hear the sound of paper being flipped in his hands. " 'I could drown in those eyes. So it's summer, so it's suicide.' Did you write this?"

You snorted, pleased be thought so. "No, that's Richard Siken for you." He responds with a soft 'oh' before turning around to see you.

"When can I read yours?" He asks gently. You see the way his gaze lingered on your face, refusing to look anywhere else. "Usually that happens after a few dates."

"And do you wait after a few dates first before telling people your real name or?" You frowned, confused.

"The name you gave me when we met, it was never in the university system."

"Why were you looking for me in there?" He clicked his tongue, averting his eyes somewhere else.

You weren't really worried that he had tried and failed miserably in an attempt of stalking you, in fact, you felt a sense of glee fill your hollow soul at the thought of it.

"I didn't lie about my name." You confessed after a while. "I changed it a long time ago into something else."

"I see." He relaxed visibly. "So you just have two names?" You nodded. "Then what do I call you?" He genuinely asks. "Whatever I ask you to." Not meaning for it to sound as scandalous as it did, Jace's face broke into a smirk. "Right, you like your men credulous."

"Come back to bed." You demanded, placing your head back onto the soft pillow. "Whatever you want, my girl."

It was at that moment, as you feel the bed shifts and his hands reaching for your waist, did you realize just how satiated you hunger has been since last night.

You were sure that this was doomed to end in a devastatingly ugly way. The love between two humans itself often destroys itself despite efforts against it. A love between a cursed being and an innocent soul is a one way ticket to never being the same again for either of you.

“And what happens from here?” A different voice speaks from behind him. A voice you dreaded to hear. Your maker tilted his head, judging the circumstances with humor.

I don't know. You figured you had your whole life worked out for you. Your mundane immortality wrote its own story before you could put pen to paper. And this boy is an unexpected chapter.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #harry collett #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader

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ticktockheartstop · 5 months ago

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I just find it sooo interesting how Charles chooses to kiss Crystal after the most emotional day in Port Townsend so far. Let’s review:

1. Charles is clearly jealous of Monty and Edwin at the beginning of the episode: “You? Him? Spending a lot of time?” (Whether this is platonic or romantic jealousy, I’ll leave that up to you… though I definitely have thoughts.)

2. Edwin is really trying, for maybe the first time ever, to comfort Charles and get him to open up (because the Devlin case in the previous episode made him realize that Charles has major walls up). Edwin paying, even slightly, is definitely a new, potentially kinda scary thing for Charles.

3. Crystal is really concerned about Charles and not afraid to hide it, and it’s clearly irritating him. So much so that he nearly snaps at her — which he never does to her — and he stops himself, only to say, “As long as I’ve got my best mate and a case to solve, I’m good.” *pause* “I appreciate you. But leave it, yeah?” I just think it’s really significant that Charles didn’t say “as long as I’ve got you guys” or “my mates” or “you and my best mate.” Crystal was a hit of an afterthought, I think.

4. Charles tells Edwin off for not telling him about the Cat King, so much so that Edwin feels the need to say: “I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” Charles is clearly not in the best mood, not thrilled about the case they’re facing, and not thrilled about his “best mate” hiding things from him.

5. Charles nearly watches Crystal jump to her death, and it wasn’t even him who saved her. It was Niko. He looks the most devastated of all of them, and then gives her that big speech of how important it is for her to know that jumping isn’t worth it, because it’s not actually her mom, no matter what it feels like. And she basically tells him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, because she knows her mom wants to see her.

6. Charles is so jealous, watching Monty flirt with Edwin as he’s stuck digging through a dumpster.

7. Let’s just be clear on one thing: Crystal was the first to “attack” the Night Nurse, even if she tried to do it psychically instead of physically, and no one bats an eye. But then, when Charles gets violent with her after she threatens to take Edwin back to hell and makes him relive all his trauma, all while basically teasing him, everyone FLIPS OUT about him attacking her. It’s honestly kind of unfair, and I’d lose it too if my friends looked at me like that.

8. Charles really loses it for the first time (maybe ever in front of Edwin). He feels like he can’t help Crystal with her problems, and he can’t get Edwin to be honest about what’s going on in his head, so he definitely can’t help him, and it’s heartbreaking. But the real kicker is that the only one who steps up to try to comfort him in that moment is Edwin, because the others are still stunned by his outburst. But Charles flinches away from his touch, because he can’t fathom how anyone could love him or want to be near him in that moment.

8. If that wasn’t enough, as they leave the lighthouse, Crystal is staring at him with major concern. For obvious reasons. But I relate to Charles in the way that that look would drive me CRAZY, and I think it’s so important that later, when offering an understanding ear, Edwin doesn’t let Charles see the scope of his concern for him. That’s why I think Charles responds more politely to his offer to talk to him if he ever needs it.

9. Slightly out of chronological order here, but before going into their respective rooms, Niko says, “I think I’m going to go do something where I don’t have to think now.” And Crystal says, “Yeah, I’m with you.” … and then she goes and makes out with Charles.

10. Idk, it just seems a bit self-destructive of Charles to go make out with a girl right after she says that, and to kiss her for the first time right after she says “I just want something that’s real.” After he spent the whole day being jealous about Edwin spending time with Monty, and keeping a meeting with the Cat King from him, and after Charles lost his mind (understandably). Like, this is not the time to make romantic decisions! This can only end with someone getting hurt.

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unspeakable-imagination · 2 months ago

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We Don't Have to Dance |Part two| Worst Logan

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My requests are Open and my masterlist is here

Cw: accidental, anxiety induced self harm, poor mental health. Soulmate AU! mentions of Althea's drug use, kinda short.

It was another day and you were once again poking around with your breakfast on your plate, fiddling with the fork. Colossus, Elle, and Yukio had already finished, leaving you behind. You were too deep into thought to even try to break out of your trance. You spent the whole time thinking about the logan you'd seen yesterday. Everybody knew about how your late husband ended up rescuing his daughter, and ended up losing his life In the process. You were distraught over the revelation that his daughter was the same woman you'd seen with this new Logan. This soulmate that seemed to have found his way back to you.

You knew it wasn't the same man. Biologically, sure. In every sense, technically. But not emotionally. Not truly. This wasn't the Logan that you'd spent so many years with. This certainly wasn't the Logan that married you. This man hardly knew you, or so you thought. Your gaze had drifted to the name scrolled along your forearm and you grew restless. It became itchy and you grew disturbed, stuck in your mind as you stared. Gingerly reaching your other hand to scratch at the words, the sensation didn't Seem to stop. Your ears rang as you tried scratching harder and harder, desperately trying to rip the tainted skin from your arm. Tight silver hands grasped your wrists and quickly separated your now bloody nails from bloodied words and you felt wet drip down your cheek.

“No,” you cried. “No it hurts, he's gone-No, he's gone,” you thrashed in Colossus’s hands, not hearing the words he was grumbling. You tried ripping your hands from his grasp but stilled when you felt a canceling collar snap around your neck.

The world changed and you slumped, staring ahead of you, finally processing the words that you were hearing.

“If your mind keeps getting caught up, [Name], we are going to have to keep the collar on you. You can't be present otherwise. You're loosing control.” You shifted to look at Collosus and Ellie behind You.

“I,” your brain calmed down but you had to take time to find your words. “I'm sorry. What happened?” Your now free hands felt at the collar around your neck and you paled, snaping your whole body around to look at the destruction you caused. The wall behind you was charred black with an outline matching your body. Colossus frowned.

“You've lost your mind again, and you're hurting yourself, too.” He motioned towards you arm and you looked at the skin that you tore. The skin with Logan's real name. The pigmentation ran down, as deep as the skin existed, bit parts of it were marred and scabbing over with rash-looking scrapes.

“It was hurting,” you murmured. “I don't know what happened it was just hurting, it was itching. I wanted it to stop.” You sounded confused, and Colossus's look softened.

“You need therapy. You need to return to work on the team, to give yourself an outlet.” Your lips pursed as you looked towards him. Ellie placed a hand on your shoulder.

“It is a good stress reliever.”

“I haven't worked since he left,” you mumbled. “Since he ran away with the professor. I don't know if I can control them now, and without the professor to shut me down?” you watched the scabs heal and flake off, the dead skin falling into your lap. Your arm looked as pristine as it was before, as if it was never marred by your anxiety riddled fingers.

“I will just gently knock you out,” Colossus put out his palm and degenerated by gently putting his fist into to, imitating a much gentle version of his punch. “No trouble, no pain.” You swallowed.

“I'm intimidated by what could happen.”

Distantly, Yukio’s cheerful voice rung through the halls as she skipped towards the group. She was waving Ellie’s phone back and fourth above her head.

“Wade texted, Althea and him are having a picnic. They want us to come!” Ellie moved, removing her hand from her shoulder and opening her arms for her girlfriend. She asked Yukio if she wanted to go and Colossus leaned, looming over you.

“We go to that picnic. Getting out is good for you, no?” You blew a hor breath out your lips, grimacing.

You’d just arrived at the park with the girls. Your signature look was on, a basic pair of black shoes, khaki pants, and a random long-sleeve shirt underneath Logan’s old jacket he'd left behind. You were talking with them about the latest season on Botox Baby, one that they'd yet to see. They were eagerly absorbing what you had to say, relishing in the fact that one of the twins had received her third round of lip filler.

“oh my GOD look at you guys,” Wade squealed. He cherrily clapped his hands and he kicked his feet out onto the massive blanket under him. You wrinkled your nose as his bare feet, cursing him for not wearing his socks that were stuffed into his crocks.

You looked at him and noticed that Logan, Laura, and the dog were further in the grass playing fetch behind him. You focused your attention on Althea.

“Al,” you separated from the girls as they beelined towards the pink-pajama clad man. “How are you doing?” She was sitting neatly under a tree. Her face was shockingly bitchish, more than usual. Her glasses sat on her nose as she held her face up towards the sun.

“Oh, [Name], dear. You have no clue. I've run outta crack trying to deal with the loud mouth fighting with silent and broody. They are driving me up the wall and I'm ‘bout ready to sting them from a ceiling’ beam and dry ‘em like bacon.” You snorted.

“So they've been home two days and you're already done with them?”

“Oh HELL yes, I CANNOT keep dealing with them keepin’ me up at night. That surely little girl been sleepin’ in the room with me but thoes two keep going at it in the living room. I went out there this morning and it smelled like enough blood that an elephant was slaughtered on the carpet. I swear, that stain will never come out, n I can't even see it!” You cringed at the imagery on a hanging elephant.

“That… isn't pleasant sounding.” She nodded her head in agreement.

“What about you, baby girl? I can practically smell the blood underneath your fingernails. She waved a finger in the air. “You're not back to work are ya?” furiously shaking your head you mumbled. “No, I just had a little incident at home. I guess I forgot to wash my hands. Colossus wants me to go back to work though.”

You cocked you head to the side as heavy footballs padded your way. Logan was walking towards you. You sucked in a breat and a fire of anxiety settled in your belly. Your throat suddenly burned and shifted away from him, hardly noticeable, but enough to help you conceal your inner turmoil. It was like putting your back to him, as if you were making a wall to keep him at a distance, safe for your heart. He knelt down next to you and Althea and cleared his throat. Al’s hand jutted out and jabbed towards him, but he was just out of her reach.

“You scared the fuck outta me, Logan. Why don't ‘chu wear a bell or somethin’?” a tiny, nearly invisible smile quirked on the aides of his lips.

“Sorry, Al.” He turned his attention towards you. “You're [Name], yeah?” you side-eyed him and swallowed thickly. “I know Wade kinda Introduced me last night but Im’m Logan.”

“I know who you are,” you muttered. “You don't have to talk to me. He sucked on his teeth and then took a deep nose breath. “I know I don't have to. I want to,” he cast his look down to the grass thinking about something. You turned sour, your anxiety peaking.

“Sorry, ‘m not in the mood.” Your looked away thing your face away from him. You didn't want him to see it, incase he could see your tell. Logan always told you that he could tell the way you felt, just by looking at you. You wondered if he could, or if he did imagine your face when he abandoned you the year before his death. You wondered if he knew your heart would break when he took the professor, but not his wife.

Logan could smell The sour emotions reeking out of you. He felt heated, and angry with Wade that he'd even suggest him coming to talk to you. Before you died in his world, you were about to get married. It was only a week away. He just wanted To get wasted. He had a nasty fight with you and came back to a dead body. He never got to make things right, and Wade talked about you as if you'd jump into his arms with just the chance to talk to him.

He swallowed And took the defeat. Be wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Not in this universe. He's just grateful that you're alive. He pushed himself up and turned, walking away. He didn't want to push you to talk to him, and by the smell of your emotions, you were to far into your mind to talk, anyways.

Taglist: @spideybv28 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @callsign-ember @bontensbabygirl @scorpiosaintt

#wolverine #hugh jackman #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan x reader

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ssplague · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 3

Masterlist

Warnings ⛔️ A/B/O themes, soulmates, mating, sex, manipulation, power and control.

Honorable mentions 💌 @lalachanya @mrsmelaninhood

@whatdidshesayyy @faemagic88

@viridianhero @alishii @rv19

@maggiecc @crazy-eight17 @nnubee

“All for you, All because of you”

The sight of you standing in the shadows of the hallway, made Bakugou feel as if the breath had been sucked from his lungs. You look from the angry blonde, to the way he holds your green haired savior. A brief flash of anger reflects in your eyes, while your facial features display abject terror. Seeing your display of negative emotions focused solely upon him, had something in the shifter’s chest aching painfully. “Unhand him! Put him down right now!” You demanded shakily, tears begin to well up in your eyes, quick to overflow and dribble down your cheeks. “He was just trying to help by getting me out of the storm! Please don’t Kill him! PLEASE!” You wailed, feeling absolutely helpless.

The original shock that your sudden appearance had brought on was quick to fade. Each of the men regained their composure, each one’s expression was drastically different from the other’s.

Deku being dropped to the floor has you shrinking back against the wall. Done in attempts to make yourself smaller, hopefully small enough to go unnoticed. Only to realize how stupid that thought was, while the one you now knew as a blood thirsty beast approaches. Flames danced within the crimson stare, its intensity was solely focused on you. A chaotic swell of feelings had resulted from the earlier encounter with Shindo. Even after channeling said feelings Into a rage fueled destruction, the continued heart ache had been too great for his mortal self to endure. So Bakugou had let his draconic side bear the brunt of that emotional onslaught, to which the beast didn’t seem to mind. Now however…with you mere inches away, cowering at his feet, the beastly side of him was fighting like mad to remain in control.

We found her!

Let’s take her, mark her, make her understand there is no escape!

Somehow you had managed to hold his gaze since it landed on you. Despite the fact that your body is shaking like a leaf caught in the wind. For a split second the actual scene infront of him is altered; Rather than being in Deku’s shitty second home the two of you were in the dragon king’s most cherished place, with his fangs piercing your neck as he mounted you from behind. Quick as the vision had come, it just as rapidly dissipated.

Obviously this image was forced to the forefront of his mind on purpose. Pathetic, as if he needed any more incentive to take what was already his.

Her eyes are even more beautiful when she cries…Just look at her, poor thing is wound up as tight as a bow string…

Reminds me of a timid little doe in the forest, ready to run at the first sign of danger…

As Bakugou slowly brings a large hand up towards your face, you flinch instinctively.

“Y/N…I would never harm you…how could your opinion of me have shifted so drastically just from hearing some ridiculous stories?” His voice is soft as he speaks to you, the calloused pad of his thumb drying your tears.

“Are they really just stories? You looked perfectly capable of killing Midoryia right now, maybe you would have even enjoyed doing so…” you gesture toward Izuku as you finally look away from Bakugou. Your heart ached with some strange unspoken need to be close to this man, you couldn’t get him out of your head, “Can we talk somewhere privately?”.

“The bedroom in the very back of the house would be a good spot” your host offers, giving you an encouraging smile, despite rubbing his sore neck.

You turn and walk back down the dark hallway, not looking to see if the Dragon king was following you. Opening the door to a tidy old bedroom containing a bed with a purple patchwork quilt spread out over it, and an old wooden dresser.

Taking a seat on the bed you look down at the floor boards, not even bothering to look up when the bedroom door shuts and the lock clicks. The bed dips slightly as Katsuki comes to sit beside you.

A few minutes of silence pass before you let out the breath you’d kept in, “Im sure you’re expecting me to return to the capital with you tomorrow…and the only way I will agree to come willingly is if there are no more lies…I…well I need to be able to trust my king “

My king

The touch of a warm, rough, palm incased your cheek. The feeling of it enough to get you to look up at its owner. Instantly returning the sentimental gesture by intertwining your fingers with his other hand. “I know what they must have told you about me, I’m sorry you were frightened enough to flee…Its true I have killed countless men and beasts alike…but it was all for the sake of my people! To keep them safe, to earn even more respect than the almighty king of the south had during his reign…Our lands have expanded, we have gained even more allies than ever before, its all been for the greater good my love…all for us to rule over together, we’ll make our kingdom the most prosperous of all of the lands surrounding us” Bakugou spoke so passionately as desire sparked in his crimson irises, his words made you feel inspired and excited in ways you never had felt before.

“I need you with me y/n, I need you by my side as my queen! No one on this entire planet could ever make me feel the way you do…my goddess, let me worship you like you deserve” He spoke so passionately to you, keeping eye contact to demonstrate his honesty. A gentle push had you laying back on the plush mattress, lashes fluttering over you’re half opened eyes as you moved further up the bed to make room for him as well. Rather than laying next to you, the imposing man loomed over the top of you. “Katsuki?” his name left your lips in a breathy sort of simper, causing a low rumble to sound in his chest. His reply is just as gruff sounding as he rasped “Love hearing you say my name…wanna hear you say it every day for the rest of my life”.

“I don’t understand why im so drawn to you, I should be afraid, I should want to run away and put distance between us…but im just so relieved to have you with me once more…MY king” it seemed as if you had accidentally envoked a possessive, borderline seductive lilit With the way you had spoke. Surely that explains the sudden surge of confidence expelling any trace of the shaken, timid person you’d been mere minutes ago. Your sudden change didn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou as he studied you carefully, another pleased rumble rolling through his chest as your fingers carded themselves through messy blonde locks. Closing his eyes allowed him to feel his way through your aura; A pleased hum the possessive emphasis placed on your words Vibrates your throat as your spirit attempted to entangle itself with his own.

Not yet.

The sound of your disappointed whine had his crimson irises re-open to lock with your own. The delectable fragrance you emitted seemed to have strengthened and it takes all of the young king’s will power not to let the drool pooling inside his mouth leak out onto the pillows bellow. Your honeyed scent coated his tongue and clung to the passages inside of his nose. No longer laying dormant, your omega spirit had finally exposed itself to him. Now wide awake, it seemed she wasn’t interested in waiting for any sort of proper ceremonial rigamarole to be claimed by her chosen mate.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” Your innocent sounding voice and wide doe eyes aren’t fooling Bakugou in the slightest.

Still doesn’t stop from making you look so adorably fuckable though…

Moving from over the top of you, the extremely turned on dragon shifter lays down behind you.

Turning on his side, slinging a heavy arm around your body and pulling you closer to him.

“Katsuki?” You ask, confused at his sudden change of heart.

“Sleep, we have a long day to get through tomorrow” he grumbled, kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder. The statement had an air of finality to it, and you couldn’t help but be disappointed.

So much for “worshipping his goddess”….

The following morning the Dragon king wakes up to the sound of birds chirping. Feeling his arm still resting on your plush body, he lets out a pleased rumble, trying to pull you closer. Only to realize it wasn’t you beneath his arm, it was your pillow.

“Y/n!” His voice cracked as he hurriedly sat up, frantic eyes scanning the room for you.

“Dammit!”

Instantly on his feet, a frightened but rapidly growing furious Bakugou berated himself for his foolishness.

You let your guard down and look what happened! She could be miles away by now!

Wrenching the bedroom door open and hurrying down the hallway, the wide open front door has panic gripping his very soul as he imagines losing you again.

“Oh uhm good morning Kaachan”

A sheepish Deku greets his childhood friend warily, in his hands are a tray and three empty cups.

Noticing the look on the blonde man’s face, a smile appears on Deku’s, “Y/N is outside with Kirishima, they seem to have taken a liking to one another! I made sure to save you a couple of the pasteries we had for breakfast, I’ll get them for you”. Ducking his head down to awkwardly lean against the door frame, Katsuki watches your interaction with his idiot friend.

A small pile of wild flowers sit between the two of you, your lips are moving while explaining what your fingers are doing as they carefully braid vines and flowers together. The giant red head is watching intently until you finish the flower crown and place it atop his shitty hair. “I LOVE IT! I’ll cherish it forever!” The fool exclaims happily, sharp teeth on full display as he grins at you. The laughter that follows from you two brings a small smile to the King’s face, shaking his head at the idiot that is Ejiro.

“I poured you some tea to go with your breakfast Kaachan” Izuku calls as he comes down the hallway, appearing with Katsuki’s cloak folded over his arm, “it’s in the kitchen, and here is your cape, it’s all dried now”. Taking the offered cape, Katsuki drapes it over his broad shoulders and enters the kitchen. Grabbing his food to stand at the window where he can continue observing you and Kirishima. It doesn’t take him long to eat the two pastries and drain the cup of tea, and rather than leave the dirtied dishes for the nerd, he washes them.

Glancing out the window once more, Katsuki watches Kirishima attempting to make a flower crown with his clumsy hands and clawed fingers. Seeing the polite smile on your face as you helped shitty scales with patience and undoubtedly kind words…well it did something to Bakugou. The very first time he’d remembered ever experiencing such comfortable warmth extending from the depths of his heart, a feeling of peace that extinguished his always present fury, a softness that cushioned his sharp tongue, was the day he met you….

When word had reached Bakugou that one of the elder dragons was wreaking havoc in the eastern mountain range, he’d immediately felt the need to prove himself once again. It wasn’t just an elderly rogue creature, it was one of the ancient dragons that inhabited these lands long before any human stepped foot upon them. The magnificent beasts are few and far between these days. Some had been slain, others chose to befriend and coexist with humans, the most dangerous had been forcibly sealed away. The latter of which was only carried out when the beast was so formidable that the combined efforts of dragon and human together could not kill It.

Great protest had followed the young royal’s announcement of planning to take on this monster by himself. The naysayers were silenced by the threat of exile or execution should any of them attempt to follow him. The battle between Bakugou and the ancient dragon waged on for three full days, neither of them willing to give up. Once it was all said and done, the Dragon King’s ferocious tenacity won out. With the beast dead at his Royal feet, he shifted back into his human form and set about pulling out teeth, claws, as well as a large gem embedded in the slain beast’s forehead. All of the things the man collected were to serve as more than just trophies in demonstration of his victory. Only when he was finished and the giant satchel was secured around him, did he switch back into his dragon form and take off toward home. It was about halfway through the journey that Katsuki’s vision started to blur, not long after came pain in his limbs. The Adrenaline rush had officially worn off, along with the dopamine high victory had brought about. Seeing what looked like an island below, the black dragon slowly loses altitude, and before it can hit the water, a human body appears in its place. Exhausted as he was, Bakugou kept a tight grip on his satchel as he fought the tide to get to shore, where he immediately collapsed.

Waking up was a surprisingly comfortable experience, whatever the Royal lay upon was soft, the air around him was a comfortable temperature and the smell invading his senses was possibly the best scent in the world. Only the feather light touch of small fingers on his skin made his eyes fly open, a frightening growl comes from deep in his chest. Taking hold of a tiny wrist in his large fist, “What the fuck do you-“ the words died on his lips as he caught sight of you. Pupils expanding due to fear, inside rings of wide e/c eyes stared back at him, before looking down at the wrist he still had clutched inside his hand, “ I didn’t mean to startle you…Im sorry”. The sound of your voice was like music to his ears, a unique tone that was made for him to hear and no one else, he had to of died during his flight home because no shitty mortal could be making him feel this way…”Im y/n by the way…I uh, I came across you passed out on the shore at the beach, and once I got a better look at your injuries...I couldn’t just leave you there” you spoke to him so softly, touched him so gently. The strange sensation wouldn’t go away; This tingling warmth in his chest, the serene calm you brought Bakugou only amplified the longer he spent with you, the closer you got to him.

It made the normally rage fueled monarch relax, it made him want to be a better man and a better leader.

All for you.

All because of you.

The memory made it easier to force himself to turn away from the window and stalk down the short hallway. Pushing open the already slightly ajar door to see the green haired male scribbling down some notes, muttering to himself as he picked up a jar and inspected the contents. Taking a few steps inside Bakugou clears his throat to gain the other man’s attention, “Oh Kaachan! Im sorry I didn’t hear you come in!” Deku exclaims, emerald eyes shifting nervously “Is something…wrong?”. “No…I just need to talk to you…” it comes out rougher than he’d intended but somehow Katsuki is able to get the words out “I wanted to thank…you…for uh…for helping Y/N…and Im s…sorry about last night I…I was worked up and I snapped on you when I shouldn’t have…”. The two men stood and stared at each other for a minute before Izuku breaks the silence “You don’t have to thank me, I was just doing the right thing….And Kirishima filled me in on what happened before you guys ended up here yesterday…It makes sense that you would be on edge after all that….Im sorry I didn’t just tell you she was here right away, I was uh kinda terrified you would think things were different than they appeared to be…”.

“So…we are good then?” The Dragon king replies, narrowed eyes glaring at Deku.

“Yep we’re good” the green haired man says with a nod, smiling as he turns back towards his notes.

Bakugou turns to leave the room, only to pause in the doorway.

Keeping his back towards Midoryia to hide the grimace on his face as he says “If you want a ride back to the capital you can come with us, hurry up and pack your shit cause we’re leaving ASAP” no sooner are the words out of his mouth that his stomping feet can be heard down the hallway, huffing when he hears the nerd happily accepting his invitation. Its gotta be you and your infectious kindness thats getting to him, and that should be a lot more unsettling than it was to him in this moment.

You and Kirishima were far too busy laughing at something Bakugou hadnt heard to notice when he emerged from the cabin. A large shadow falls over the grass infront of you as your laughter dies down into snickers. Which then cease immediately as soon as you notice who stands behind you.

“Oh! Good morning your highness!” Ejiro exclaims as he enthusiastically gets to his feet and smiles at the grimacing monarch. The red head extends his hand to help you up, only to have it knocked out of the way and replaced with the king’s. Taking your much smaller hand in his, Katsuki uses a little too much strength to pull you up and ends up with you falling face first against his hard chest. “G-Good morning my…King” you mumble against his skin as you peer up at him from in between his pecs.

“Missed you in bed this morning my goddess” the king replied, wrapping his arms around your body to keep you held to him. He couldn’t help but smirk at your flustered expression, where was the boldness you demonstrated to him the night prior? “Im not a goddess…yet” you corrected with a sigh “About last night, I….I apologize for behaving in such a provocative manner, it was innapropraite of me to proposition you like that….I dunno what came over me”.

“You’ve always repressed that side of yourself, it only makes sense that being in the company of your fated Alpha would get your omega all hot and bothered” Katsuki massages your hips as he takes a deep inhale of your scent “You handled it pretty well, Although, I wouldn’t have minded if you let the lust get to you, woulda been a good time for both of us…”.

“Is it inappropriate to admit that I missed sleeping beside you?” You nervously ask, shifting your weight from one foot to the other “I haven’t slept that good since the night before you left the island..”.

“No…its fine” he replied, taking notice of the way your eyes briefly fall to his lips “I feel the same”.

Your lashes flutter as you bring your gaze back to his, tilting your chin up slightly, craning your neck upwards to move your face closer. It was like the two of you were the only ones in the world for that brief moment your lips pressed gently to his. When you begin to pull back he stops you by giving you his own chaste kiss, resting his forehead against your’s.

“Will it always feel like this?” You whisper, gently grabbing hold of his cape to ground your out of control emotions. “Most likely” Bakugou pauses to give you that stupid smirk “You’ll get used to it…eventually”.

“Alright I’m ready to go! Sorry for making you all wait!” Calls Midoryia as he locks the cabin up, hurrying out to the field where Bakugou, Kirishima, and you are standing.

Rolling his eyes the king turns towards his companion, “Shitty Scales”. “Right! Give me just a second” Kirishima runs a few feet away, giving himself enough room to shift without worrying he’d hurt you or Izuku.

“Aren’t you going to fly us back?” You give Katsuki a questioning look, eyeing the blonde man wairly lest he shift and catch you by surprise.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t fall off mid flight and die” Katsuki says with a roll of his eyes.

Just as you open your mouth to retort ,magic electrified the air surrounding you. A red flash and an accompanying roar announce the magnificent crimson dragon that now stands where Kirishima had been moments ago.

The beast lowered its head before the three of you, and Katsuki wasted no time helping you climb up its snout. Izuku follows the two of you to the middle of the dragon’s back before pulling a paint brush and jar from his rucksack. “What will you do with that?” You ask, watching the green haired man dip the brush into the jar. “Earlier Kirishima told me he wouldn’t mind if I painted some protective ruins on him to make sure we couldn’t slip or get blown off his back during our flight” Midoryia explains as he perfected the enchantment “It’s just some mashed berries that make up the pigment, something easy to clean off once he shifts back”. Once the brush and jar are placed into his bag, Izuku shuts his eyes and mumbles something unintelligible.

The runes glow bright green before fading to black, your eyes are wide with excitement and you can’t help but to be impressed by that.

“Incredible Izuku! Maybe one day you could teach me magic like that?!” You ask, tracing the symbols that line Kirishima’s scaled back.

Deku didn’t even have to look at the king to know his red eyes were giving him a death glare.

“Oh it’s not that impressive, Kaachan’s magic is much stronger and flashier than anything I could do” the smaller man stutters as he waves his hands back and forth in surrender. Before you can praise Deku’s abilities any further, hands grip your hips, you don’t fight them pulling you backwards into Katsuki’s lap. You lean back against his chest as the King wraps his cape around both of you, probably to keep you warm during the flight. “Alright shitty scales let’s go!” Bakugou hollers, the dragon immediately spreads its wings and launches itself skyward. It’s terrifying at first, but once he’s gained enough altitude Kirishima glides along smoothly. Unable to contain the excitement anymore you begin to giggle, Midoryia sighs with relief and cracks a smile as well. “This is amazing!” You shout over the loud wind surrounding you, glancing over your shoulder to smile at Katsuki. The dragon side of him is proud to see you smiling instead of crying and fearful. “I bet you are much more fun to ride my King, I can’t wait until you take me!” Your compliment is completely innocent, still he can’t help but agree as he definitely anticipated both those things himself. Both In an innocent and not so innocent manner.

Izuku sneaks glances at you two throughout the flight, seeing his childhood friend so happy is a pleasant change to the usual moody Kaachan. Its obvious that Katsuki’s affection for you is genuine and deep; In just the short time you two have known each other its obvious that you have began to change him. The crescent moon on your forehead catches the sunlight just right and a thought hits the observer. Quickly pulling a notebook from his bag the green haired man searches through his notes. Finding the page he was looking for, emerald eyes scan back and forth over the neatly written text.

In this realm,

a blessing descends,

a child of fate,

Whose power immense,

destined to determine

earth’s fate

Born beneath the moon's shadow,

a tale quite bizarre,

A beast hides within,

a spirit touched by mar.

Not at the outset,

but time's relentless flow,

Unveils a name in history's

annals to grow.

Victories numerous,

A heart encased in sin,

With a chance encounter,

love's dance shall begin.

Strings of fate weave

a love, pure and oh so divine,

The dragon king seeking

a mate with whom

Soul shall intertwine.

This love is true,

by impurity shunned,

Great Darkness out shone

by a Celestial radiance

Who’s light could

Outshine the sun

Blessings abound

Once the moon's grace prevails,

A bright happy future

Similar to a child’s fairytale

The prophecy that the oracle spoke twenty two years ago…

These words were something he’d heard since he was a small child. Everyone in the kingdom knew the words to this prophetic message, even going so far as to turn it into a song. For some reason it has always confused Midoryia.

It always seemed like something was missing from it, why does it end so abruptly? Placing the book back into his bag Midoryia chances another glance your way; Bakugou has his head resting on your shoulder, eyes closed and expression relaxed as you speak softly in his ear. Maybe Izuku was getting ahead of himself, maybe there was nothing to be worried about, maybe your love would really be enough to smooth over the dragon shifter’s horrifying and violent tendencies.

Flying over the capital is an experience in itself;The city was vast, stretching out across the land as far as your eyes could see! All those people below looked like ants as they marched through the clean cobblestone streets.

Kirishima lands in the middle of the castle courtyard, lowering his belly to the ground and curling his tail around to serve as a make shift slide. You watch Izuku, then Katsuki slide down before you followed suit, laughter flows from you as you slide across the smooth crimson scales, the latter catches you with ease once you reach the end. Midoryia bids you goodbye and before he can turn to leave you reach out to grab ahold of his sleeve, “You’ll come to visit me right? This won’t be the last time I see you, will it?” You ask nervously, hating to have to part with one of the first friends you’d made here. “You aren’t going anywhere yet nerd, I have something I need your help with so come on” snaps the king, dragging you until you fall instep with him. Approaching the castle, you notice it was tall enough for a dragon to inhabit, and more than wide enough. The dark stone making up the outside held a stark contrast to the granite and marble inside, the floors were polished and clean. The windows each had dark crimson curtains pulled to the side, allowing the natural light to illuminate the gorgeous paintings littering the walls. Kirishima jogs up the slope leading to the back entrance, appearing behind you just as the large back doors are opened. Two servants hold each door and bow their heads welcoming the four of you, you try to catch their eye but it was like they were ordered not to look at you. The further Katsuki led you into the castle the more you noticed that this lack of eye contact was a trend amongst the servants. At least when it came to you it was, they didn’t hesitate to return greetings from Izuku or Ejiro, offering kind smiles and waves along with each exchange.

Just as you were about to question the brooding blonde a loud voice resounds through the palace halls:

“Finally you got back! Was about to send out a fuckin’ search party….speaking of parties, the celebration was called off last night because of the weather so you got lucky Brat, but it will be going on tonight! Move aside so I can get a proper look at my daughter to be”. A female version of Katsuki shoved him to the side, identical crimson eyes growing wide as they observe you, taking your hands in her’s she introduces herself “Im Mitsuki, the last queen and mother of the soon to be king”. “Its lovely to meet you, your highness! I am Y/N…” you trail off, wondering if you should add anything else but Mitsuki beats you to the punch “Daughter of the Moon Goddess Selene”.

“Ah uhh yes” you reply nervously, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

The older woman eyes the crescent moon on your forehead, “Absolutely radiant, I am honored that you chose my son, he is definitely undeserving of someone that projects such outward and internal beauty”.

“Your grace please” you blush at being talked up, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Now that we’ve gotten through introductions, I’ll be turning you over to these lovely ladies to help get you ready for the evenings festivities” your soon to be mother in law gestures to two woman standing off to the side, both looking directly at you wearing warm smiles on their faces “These two are Mina and Momo, no need to worry dear you will be in good hands, now get a move on, I still need to talk to my ignorant son privatley !”.

Katsuki wanted to protest as he watched the two women each grab one of your hands and lead you down the hall.

“She is the real deal, I could sense the ethereal magic as soon as she stepped foot in the castle” Mitsuki notes, before continuing “Katsuki you need to cherish her, that isn’t just any normal earth dwelling woman…if you hurt her or inflict any sort of suffering-“. “Enough old hag! I had to deal with enough bullshit the last two days, and now I have to deal with this stupid celebration tonight-“ Katsuki is cut off by his mother talking over him. “You were the one that insisted the party should take place before the actual wedding ceremony, since you wanted to be able to whisk your mate away as soon as vows are exchanged” Mitsuki rolls her eyes “You’re lucky that I personally saw to a majority of the details to both ceremony and celebration, you should be thanking me profusely”.

“I have something I need to take care of, whatever you need me to do will have to wait until im done, c’mon nerd lets go, Kirishima you stand guard over Y/N, don’t let her go anywhere unattended” the king demands as he heads back towards the door he’d originally entered from, not waiting for the red head to reply. Izuku bowed to Mitsuki before hurrying after the retreating monarch.

As soon as Momo and Mina had you behind closed doors they bombarded you with questions:

“How did you and the king meet?”

“Was it love at first sight?”

“How did he propose?”

“How big was his-“ you quickly put an end to that line of questioning.

“I found him injured as I was walking down the beach of an island in his territory, it took some time for us to warm up to each other….Uh he didn’t exactly give me a choice, it was just a mutual agreement, and as for THAT…I wouldn’t know since we haven’t…y’know” you answered their questions lamely, it was embarrassing. If they thought anything negative the women didn’t share it, they just made idle chit chat as they combed out your hair. Taking a deep breath you shut your eyes, a bead of sweat slid from your temple to down your cheek, falling between the valley of your breasts. Had it always been so stifling hot in here? Pleasant scents of sweet almond, and vanilla reached your nose before suddenly being over powered by a lavender fragrance. Glancing around the room you don’t seem to find anything that would have put off the scents, the room was bright with afternoon sunlight illuminating the white canopy of the large four poster bed in its center. A small oak writing desk sat in one corner, and a clothing rack sat in the corner opposite of it, between the two directly across from the door used to gain entry to the room was another slightly ajar door, most likely a bathroom. Bringing a hand up you begin to fan your face, now beads of sweat lined the entirety of your forehead, you dab them away with your other hand before they slip into your eyes. Thats when you felt the sleeves of your dress being pulled down as the back of it had been unfastened, feeling your chest slightly exposed caused you to squeak in concern.

“Sorry my lady, we’re done brushing your hair out and now its time for your bath” Momo explains apologetically.

“Oh okay…I can undress myself” you begin to head towards the open door only to realize that the two of them were following you, turning back around Mina speaks up “Its our job to get you ready for tonights celebration and your wedding tomorrow, so its our job to scrub you down, remove any unsightly hairs, wash, condition, style your hair, and then moisturize you from head to toe, I know its not ideal for two strangers to see your naughty bits but we’ll all be the best of friends afterwards!”. “Mina!” Exclaims Momo as she clutched her chest “Im so sorry my lady, please forgive her indiscretions, she means well!”.

The two of them begin to bicker on what is and isn’t appropriate to say to their future queen, your eyes bounce from one to the other as they speak. The pinkette is outgoing and high energy, while the ponytail is more somber and sophisticated. Mina begins making a game out of saying cruder and cruder things until her partner looks like she might just feint from the naughty language. Your laughter echoes around the bathroom as you strip out of your dress and undergarments, soon dying down into giggles as you enter the large bath, submerging your entire body.

“A thousand apologies my lady-“

“None needed, and call me y/n…I don’t consider myself above either of you…I want to make more friends” you admit this albeit nervously. A huge grin lights up Mina’s face, and MoMo ops for a more polite smile.

“You still haven’t mentioned where we are going Kaachan” Izuku nervously pointed out as he followed Bakugou. One of the kingdoms other shifters had given them a ride to the base of a nearby mountain. Now the two of them had been walking for over an hour, ocassionally having to climb up steep rocky ledges. “I told you already, you’ll find out once we get there! We’re over halfway there, woulda been there already if it weren’t for your sorry ass slowing me down” Katsuki sneers back at his companion. He was already

irritated that Deku of all people accompanied him, and now the worm would know of his greatest kept secret. It couldn’t be helped, the nerd was the only one he trusted enough to assist him with this task.

After climbing one final ledge Bakugou comes to a stop Rubbing vigorously at his temples in attempt to stop the building tension headache. The pain stemming from his draconian sides repeat attempts at taking over his rational mind. Waiting for Midoryia to catch up, the king stood just outside of a cave that led inside of the mountain itself.

“We’re going inside?” Deku panted as he stared at Katsuki incredulously. “Yep C’mon” the king replied, immediately heading inside. Once inside the cave their path was blocked by what appeared to be a wall of volcanic rock. Placing both of his crackling palms atop it, the rock wall seemingly melted away, green eyes grew wide signifying the other man’s amazement.

“This is my horde, tell anyone the location, show up here without permission, or steal something and you’re dead, got it?” The King says with fire in his eyes, drawing himself up to his imposing height to make it easier to look down on Deku.

“I-of course not, I mean yes understood!” The frightened male squeaks, nodding his head nervously.

Turning his back on the cowering man, Katsuki walks further into the cavern. Treasures of all sorts line the pathway, Izuku can’t help but continue to marvel at all of it. A single path branched off the crowded walk way that led further into the cavern. Following it took the two men into what appeared to be a room carved into the rock wal

It wasn’t huge, it was small enough to be considered comfortable. Izuku noticed the various objects and decorations in this area were different than the haphazard treasure piles outside it. These things been placed with care, silk sheets covered the pile of furs and pillows surrounded what was obviously a bed in the center of the room. There was no spot that indicated the bedding had been slept on, and before the green haired man could contemplate this any further, the hulking blonde motioned for him to approach the spot.

“Paint these ruins right here” the king orders, lifting the bedding up and exposing the floor before he hands his subordinate a page that had been torn out of an obviously old book. Taking the ripped page carefully, Deku examines it curiously. Only to realize this was something in an ancient draconian language, raising a brow he begins to ask “What do these-“ only to be cut off by an angry “None of your damn business, just hurry up and come paint them”.

While Izuku set about his task, Katsuki continually left the room and returned with different things.

Arranging the treasures neatly, adding more decor and standing back to look at it satisfactorily.

Only to frown and take it away, going back out into the cave and exchanging the rejected items with something else. Once the runes were transcribed perfectly across the stone floor they glowed red hot, and burst into what had to be flames. This makes poor Deku Yelp loudly, jumping back to avoid getting burned. Quickly he grabs his bag and attempts to smother the flame, “Oi what the fuck are you doing?! Move idiot!” Katsuki exclaims as he runs over. Disregarding the frightened babbling coming from the startled man on the floor. The king takes a breath before closing his eyes in concentration lifting his hand that rapidly began forming into one of a dragon. Using the sharp talons to slice his other palm, blood began pouring out of the wound and dropping onto the burning shapes.

That’s when Izuku realizes that the flames weren’t burning anything despite the intense heat they were emitting. When the drops of blood hit the various letters it would sizzle loudly before extinguishing the flame all together. By the time each letter had been coated and the fire had been put out completely, only a faint outline of ruins appeared etched into the cave floor. The king carefully placed the bedding back in place to cover them up and smirked, very pleased with something apparently.

“Kaachan?”

“Listen up nerd, you’re going to help me haul the rest of the necessities I need up here before the wedding, since you are the only person other than shitty hair that knows where my horde is, now c’mon we have shit to do” with that the king is quick to leave the room, and a very confused Deku inside of it. Something felt off to Midoryia about that enchantment, making sure he had all of his personal items put away before getting to his feet. Emerald eyes notice the old scrap of parchment had drifted a little off to the side during his earlier scare, considering Katsuki hadn’t picked it up or asked for it back, its quickly stashed away in a pocket of his satchel.

“WHAT THE HELL IS TAKING SO DAMN LONG?!”

“S-Sorry! Coming Kaachan!”

Back at the castle Mina and Momo had finished styling your hair and now were dressing you in your formal attire for the celebration taking place in the capital that evening. The white dress had translucent sleeves that billowed outward when you walked, the slits on either side, and cut outs on the sides of your sternum made you nervous.

“You look wonderful, everyone is going to think so” compliments the pinkette.

“I absolutley agree with Mina, you look every bit a future queen, the people will definitely be reassured they’re in good hands with you and the king” Momo adds with a polite smile. Thanking the both of them you glance out the window and notice that the moon has already taken its place high in the sky, shining bright as ever.

Without thinking you strode toward the doors of the small balcony in your room, opening them and stepping out into the fresh night air, closing your eyes and letting the gentle breeze caress your skin.

The two women watched you in fascination, it was as if your were taking in the light from the moon as one would from the sun on a warm day.

“Such a warm, gentle light” your whisper is lost on the faint wind, your heart swells in your chest at the fond memories made back then in your true home, the beautiful flowing silver hair and dazzling smile of a women dances behind your eye lids “Mother I miss you…I wonder what you think of all this…I hope you will come to watch me get married….or prevent it if its something that shouldnt happen…”. A ethereal glow surrounds you, making Mina and Momo gasp excitedly, the reassurance you had began to feel seemed to be a good enough answer from the goddess. As you turned to head back inside you paused in the threshold, glancing over your shoulder up at the crystal like light in the sky, the soft breeze blows hard enough to ruffle your dress. The voice that was carried on the winds from the heavens above was for your ears alone.

I will be there

The party was well underway by the time Kirishima escorted you out onto the balcony where two identical blondes sat overseeing the festivities. Katsuki is on his feet before you step through the door, you reach out to him and his expression softens as he takes your hand in his. “You look beautiful y/n” Mitsuki says as she too has gotten to her feet “The people are ready to meet their future queen”. Your stomach fills with butterflies as you take your place beside the dragon king. The older woman gestures towards a blonde precariously dressed man with a thin mustache, he gives a nod before loudly addressing the guests;

“Attention please! The royal family has announcement to make”. His voice has to be magically amplified some how, it’s so loud it makes you want to cover your ears.

“Thank you all for coming to join us in celebrating the unveiling of your soon to be queen” Mitsuki smiles warmly at the crowd below, gesturing for Katsuki to take over.

As soon as the king steps forward the people cheer “Long Live the Dragon King!” “Congratulations your majesty!” “King Bakugou!”.

The smirk he flashes his subjects has many in the crowd swooning, as soon as he begins to speak they all quiet down “I know many of you have long awaited the introduction of a new queen to rule beside me…It took longer than I would like to admit to find her, twas an accident that she came across me grievously injured from my battle with one of the ancient ones” a dramatic pause has the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, Katsuki smiles over his shoulder at you before continuing “It’s by the grace of Selene herself that her one and only daughter would not only find me, but put in the effort to nurse me back to health, I knew as soon as I opened my eyes and beheld the beauty above me that she was the one…my true mate and now your future queen my princess

y/n”. You allow yourself to be pulled forward and now stood at your fiancé’s side, the crowd below erupts into applause, shouting and chanting.

“Goddess Born!”

“Daughter of Selene”

“Keeper of moonlight”

“Long live the King and Queen!”

You smiled and waved to the people, happy when Katsuki holds you close to him. You glance up to admire your handsome fiancé, without thinking you lean upwards and he meets you halfway in a passionate kiss that has the citizens cheering even louder.

Pulling away the two of you touch foreheads briefly before waving to the crowd once more and moving away from the edge of the balcony.

“Should I have said something?” You wonder aloud, glancing over your shoulder wearing a confused expression. “You did fine darling, if you had addressed them they would have went berserk with excitement, we don’t want the castle getting torn up before the wedding” Mitsuki reassures you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Handfuls of nobles and commoners alike swarm to shake your hands and introduce themselves when you briefly come down to mingle among them. You spot Izuku’s green curls across the room and are quick to excuse yourself, happy to see a familiar face. He’s talking to a woman whose cheeks are bright pink as she giggles at something, only to immediately pause after catching sight of you.

“Midoryia!” You called out, smiling once you reached him.

“Princess! Hello!” He stands up straight, greeting you warmly “This is my good friend Ochako Uraraka”.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you your highness” the pink cheeked girl says shyly.

“You as well, no need to be so formal! Please call me y/n” you reply happily “I’m relieved to see someone familiar, I’ve met so many new people tonight already!”.

“The whole kingdom is buzzing with excitement, I bet it’s overwhelming!” Ochako exclaims, glancing around the room “Most of us didn’t think Bakugou would ever end up finding his fated partner”.

You chuckled at that, it certainly made sense why they would feel that way. Before you could continue your conversation you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder “Come now y/n, let’s get you back to Katsuki, Ejiro just informed me that he’s getting pissy” Mitsuki says with a roll of her eyes, Kirishima nervously scratches the back of his neck behind her. It takes the couple by surprise when you hug each of them “Hopefully we can have a longer conversation next time, bye Midoryia, nice meeting you Ochako!” You say quickly, flashing them a dazzling smile before taking hold of Mitsuki’s hand, Kirishima following closely behind the two of you as you head back towards the raised platform.

Katsuki was slouched in his chair, two of his knights you hadn’t met yet, along with Mina, all appeared to be teasing him. If the scowl on his face was anything to go by that is. “I brought her back just as I promised you damn cry baby” Mitsuki snapped as she released her hold on you. Gracefully moving past the older woman you were about to take a seat beside the brooding king, only to let out a startled yip as his large hands took hold of your hips and yanked you into his lap. “Yeah what happened to only five minutes? It’s been at least an hour, she’s not your show pony old hag” Bakugou sneers at his mother, making you gasp,

“My king how could you speak to your mother in such an awful manner?!”. This only makes the woman smirk at her son as she looks down her nose at him, “Listen to your wife Katsuki, she’s got a much better head on her shoulders”.

“Yeah yeah” the disgruntled blonde huffs, waving his mother off.

“We haven’t had the chance of meeting yet my lady” the yellow haired male says, immediately moving closer to take your hand.

“Denki Kaminari at your service” he presses a kiss to the back of your hand before bowing low. “Let go of her hand before I take off your head DunceFace” Katsuki snarls.

Kaminari is immediately bumped out of the way for his black haired counterpart to stand before you, “Hanta Serro, pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady”.

Serro bows to you, flashing a toothy grin as he does so.

“Nice to meet you gentlemen” you say with a polite smile.

“Now piss off you all” Bakugou grumbled “Want a minute to speak to my women without any comments from the peanut gallery”.

Both knights give him a mock salute, and wave at you as them and Kirishima leave you two.

Immediately you feel warm hands squeeze at your sides and you lean your forehead against their owner’s. “You okay? I thought you would get overwhelmed meeting so many people” Katsuki asks, admiring your beauty as you close your eyes. “It wasnt that bad, I’m fine now though” you reply, a pleased hum followed it as Katsuki’s hands began to brush across the skin of your hips that was exposed from the slits in your dress. His hands are warm as they trail down your thighs, leaving tingles in their wake as they travel back upwards. He decided to continue this action, caressing your exposed skin, allowing the skin on his palms to slightly increase in temperature. A prideful smugness begins building inside of him after noticing with each pass over your hips you’re leaning further into him.

Soon your head comes to rest between his neck and shoulder, the relaxed sigh you emit has your breath ghosting across the sensitive skin. Without thinking he grabs a bit too harshly at your hips, causing an adorable squeak to come from you. So he does it again, only this time it gets a much different result.

The cute little “humphh” was there, but what followed it was….teeth.

Your teeth grazed the skin of his neck before nipping it. The pain was nothing to the dragon king, but combined with the warmth of your tongue poking at it, that was everything.

Katsuki abruptly got to his feet, his grip shifted beneath your ass in order for him to swiftly carry you out of the crowded ballroom. The two of you are out the door you’d entered to reach the balcony before you could properly access the situation. Carrying you a little ways down the castle hallway, the king stops at a small alcove. Deeming the small space good enough to press your body against the polished stone wall. “My king?” You ask nervously, his body pressing against your’s even though he was as close to you as possible already.

“Won’t everyone notice we left?” You only get a rumbling growl In response, your body tensing as the king squeezes your hips again, his nose coming down to sniff at your neck.

Still haven’t claimed her yet? Coward, I’ll have to change that.

“M-my king?”

Feel that?

Your core grows wet with slick as you begin to lose yourself in these

new pleasurable sensations caused by your lover’s continued motions. They fueled the aching need between your spread thighs, little whimpers escaping as you begin to rut against his abs.

I think she likes me more than you…think I’ll claim her, since you have been dragging your feet…Let me show you how it’s done.

Crimson eyes begin growing black they eat up the sight of you breathing heavily and growing desperate.

One of his fingers slip into your wet hole, earning a gasp from you. His eyes drinking in your appearance, enjoying the moment.

“O-ohhh Katsuki!” Your mouth hangs open, your nails bite into the skin of his biceps “I…please Katsuki I need more…want you my king”.

Bakugou finally regained control over his body, not that you know he had ever lost it. The sight of you growing so needy from his touch was overwhelmingly gorgeous.

His lips crash into your own as he begins sisscoring you open.

“Mmm princess…tell me what you want…just tell me and I’ll give it to you y/n…you look so beautiful like this” Katsuki moans as one of your hands tangles in his hair, forcing his head forward to continue the kiss.

“I want…hahhh…want you” you whine into his mouth before curling your tongue with his “I want you to ravage me King Katsuki…show me how a dragon makes love” Surely he couldn’t fuck you right here in this hallway? After all the work he’d put in back at the mountain to make your first (and only) mating perfect….

“Katsukiii”

He couldn’t.

“I want you to.. I want you to fuck me”

He can, and he will.

“Whatever princess wants, princess gets” the king replied, one hand wrapping around your throat and gently beginning to apply pressure.

“Oh? You like this, don’t try to bullshit me when you keep squeezing my fingers” he applied a little more pressure as his other hand moved to free his aching cock. “M’gonna fuck ya right here, right now…don’t care who sees do you? Begging for me like a desperate little whore”.

Your whines are growing higher in pitch as you begin to fuck yourself on his fingers. “Gods princess you look so good like this, I got what you need right here baby” he mumbles, guiding the head of his dick towards your slit. Gathering some of the wetness leaking from you, both of you were holding your breath and watching the spot where you would be conjoined. Just as you felt the tip of him against your fluttering entrance, did you both notice the sound of footsteps approaching. Katsuki releases his hold on you, making sure you could stand alright before stuffing his dick back in his pants. You leaned down to grab your ruined panties off the floor, sticking them deep into his pants pocket. Smoothing down your dress, you moved forward and grabbed his hand pulling him along. You both appeared calm when you met Kirishima as he rounded the corner.

“There you guys are! Sorry to bother but Jeanist and Aizawa wish to meet with you before the night’s end My king” the red haired man says, his large smile is a bit sheepish as he looks anywhere but at you.

“Take her back to her room, I’ll tell pinky to join you” Katsuki orders his knight, who nodded before moving a slight distance down the hallway.

“I know you must be worn out princess, it’s been a long day…” the king began, dropping your hand to touch your cheek “Get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow”. As he leans down to kiss you he is abruptly thwarted by your hands pushing against his chest, “Tomorrow?!” You practically squawk at him “What am I to sleep alone?!”.

Blaming your heightened emotions on your guy’s previous actions, tears well up in your eyes,

“What was all that for if you just planned to abandon me afterwards?”. Later that night as you lay awake staring off into space, your reaction would embarrass you.

That would be then, this here was now.

“We shared the same space throughout our time together on the island, slept side by side! Now that you’ve uprooted me and brought me here to this foreign land, where I have no family or allies, you leave me alone and refuse to share a bed?! This is where you draw the line?” You kept your volume at a harsh whisper to avoid attracting any unwanted eavesdroppers.

You pulled away as Katsuki reached out towards you, “Go and handle your business, I refuse to stoop so low as to disrupt the order of your kingdom, Goodnight King Bakugou”. “Y/n wait! You can’t just say all that and walk away, we aren’t done with this conversation! Get back-“ the king went silent as he heard a door open further up the hallway, his arm dropping back to his side. Turning to leave, the last thing he sees is Kirishima following after you.

Should have just let me handle it.

“Shut the fuck up!” Katsuki snarls, stopping just outside the door he’d carried you out of previously “Don’t think you ever are going to pull that same bullshit again, that’s my woman!”.

You forget, I am you….

Before he can respond the Door opens and his mother stares back at him “Where’s y/n?”.

“I sent her to bed, she was tired”

The clipped tone of her son’s voice was nothing the older woman wasn’t used to. Something wasnt right, as she moved to let her son pass by her eyes scrutinized him.

“Oi what’d you two old bastards want? My intended is upset with me now thanks to you assholes” the King snarls, approaching the two men that stood waiting.

“Hello to you too your majesty” Jeanist replies, pushing his dark blonde bangs further to the side.

Aizawa only rolls his eyes, “Let’s move somewhere quieter, too much going on down there”.

“Y/n seems nice, how’d you two meet? I figured Bakugou would have kept her hidden until tonight” Ochako asks, excitedly taking a large bite of cake. “Hmm? Oh well long story short I gave her shelter when she had been caught out in a storm” Midoryia replied, absentmindedly glancing around the ball room. “What was she doing out in a storm?” The witch asks around her fork, savoring the first bite. “Oh uh well” Izuku chuckled nervously “It was just due to a misunderstanding, no big deal or anything”. “Bakugou upset her and she took off, got lost, only to be found and saved by you…right?” Ochacko asked, fixing him with a narrowed eye stare. “Right” the green haired man sighs.

“I just dont get it Mina….how could he just dismiss me like that after…well you know! I just dont understand what I did wrong” you lament to the pinkette brushing your hair out. “You didnt do anything, im sure that he was seconds away from whisking you off to his chambers, if the two of you hadnt been interrupted” replies Mina, briefly glaring at the bedroom door Kirishima was currently posted outside of. “Typically our people dont wait for marriage to mate, mating often times proceeds a formal marriage, but you are someone special, and I believe thats why the king is waiting until after the wedding to break your back” she explains, wrapping the silk scarf around your tresses.

“W-What?! Break my back??” You stammer fearfully.

“Its a figure of speech, basically he’s going to do it so good you wont be able to leave the bed afterwards, rumor has it the king is rough, and likes to get a bit freaky too, so good luck with that” Mina teases as she knots the scarf, tapping your shoulder with the brush as she chuckles.

“Mina! I might be offended if I knew what any of that even meant” you whine, shaking your head back and forth.

A/N: I hope the length of this made up for the last one! I tried to find out if there was a form of A/B/O for dragons so I could use those terms, but I guess they go by the same things? I dunno 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thanks for all the love and support you guys show me, it makes me happier than you know ❤️‍🔥

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #mha #fantasy au #bnha #dragon bakugou #dragon king bakugou #royal au

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littlelovelyra · 1 month ago

Text

I Could Love You

Tav teaches Astarion that there are things way better than sexual intimacy and that he does not owe her his body <3

Astarions POV

AO3 if you prefer

Lil one shot to get me back into the swing of things - please note this was a quick idea so there may be a few errors and may not be my best work :)

For ease all my work is 18+ - MINORS DNI

TW: Fluff, mentions of sex, mature themes, strongish language, angsty

It all happened so fast, one minute she was there beside you fighting the bulette, and the next she was hanging off the ledge. The beast had swung its claws in her direction and she expertly dodged out of the way, however, when its massive claw returned on the backhand it caught her by surprise and sent her rolling down the hill struggling to get a grip.

The fear in her eyes as she toppled off the edge would have stopped your heart if it could still beat but you felt the nauseating sensation squeeze through your gut when you lost sight of her. Your legs were moving before your mind comprehended the events unfolding. As you slid your way down to the edge desperately peering over, you see she has managed to lodge the dagger you gifted her into the crevice wall.

“Your hand. Give me your hand!” You reach out to her knowing time is of the essence, that dagger will not hold her long. The dagger slides down in one jolt moving her down only a few inches and you watch as her wide eyes twinkle in fear, fighting back her tears and her bottom lip trembles slightly causing your chest to tighten in panic. “You need to give me your hand! Now!” A crack of desperation resonates in your voice as you plunge your hand down gripping her arm just as the dagger gives way and falls into the dark void beneath her.

“Listen to me. I’m going to pull you up but you need to hold on. Okay? Can you do that for me?” Your eyes search hers as you try to remain calm, she nods quickly in response as she tightens her grip and you begin to pull. It takes all your strength to bring her back up but as you expend the last of your energy she finally topples over to safety and knocks the two of you away from the ledge. Her arms tangle around your neck and her panicked breaths start to slow as your hand circles her back in comfort.

“I lost my fucking tent.” She breathes out, her voice filled with irritation and her brows pinch together in anger.

“I’m sorry?? You almost died and all you can say is you lost your tent?” A laugh escapes your lips and she turns to you steaming with rage. “A thank you would have been nice. Don’t worry about the tent, I’m sure Gale would offer you some space in his.” The minute the words leave your mouth regret washes over you. Whatever this thing was between you and her confused you. This was meant to be a strategic alliance and you did what you knew best, that being sex. To your knowledge, the fastest way to build an alliance with someone is to fuck them and fuck them so good that they wouldn’t want anything else. Simple. So why in the nine hells does your stomach twist every time she’s in danger? Why does the thought of her in someone else’s tent fill you with disgust and rage?

“Well, thank you, Astarion! Of course I would ask Gale; there is nobody else here that I would want to share a tent with. So thanks for saving me.” Pink stains her cheeks with rage as she dusts herself off and storms towards the group, leaving you staring after her like some love-sick puppy. Standing to your feet, you stroll towards the group with your usual nonchalant swagger, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest as you watch her approach Gale. The wizard is practically beaming as she asks to share his tent for the evening, and you wonder to yourself if all this excitement would set off that orb in his chest… what a tragedy that would be…

“It would be my honour, Tav.” Your daydreams of a self-destructing Gale are interrupted by his ridiculous, chirpy voice as he bows slightly at the waist. What an idiot. You think to yourself.

It doesn’t take the group long until you find a suitable spot to set up for the evening, and you can’t help but notice that she has avoided you the entire time. At this point in the night, she is setting up inside Gale’s tent, and the melody of her laughter drifts through the air, cutting through your chest. It stings knowing that another male can bring out a sound that beautiful from her lips and with clenched fists you stalk off away from camp. Maybe hunting for your next feed would help take your mind off her.

“It wOuLd bE mY hOnOuR TaV”, you mock Gale’s voice as you scan your surroundings, looking for a suitable option to feed on. “If she chooses that gods damn wizard over me, then I��m waltzing straight into the sunlight once I get this tadpole out. How humiliating would that be? Though… I suppose I don’t help myself by practically pushing her into a tent with him. GODS Astarion. Use your brain. You’ve been around long enough!” You throw your hands in the air as you converse with yourself, thankfully the under dark doesn’t have many people around… if anyone heard you, they may label you insane.

After about an hour of walking, you notice a single beast wandering around in a clearing. It’s rather large, but you feel up for the challenge as you tread lightly towards it. Carefully, you unsheathe your dagger, preparing to leap once you find the right angle. As you bolt forward, the beast whips around, snapping its mouth over your arm, and you feel its teeth sink in. Fuck. That’s sharp. In a desperate attempt, you swiftly pull free and feel a white-hot pain shoot across your arm as its teeth tear your flesh. Expertly, you twist around its body and plunge the dagger into its throat, and the beast releases a gurgled cry. Just before you can sink your teeth into it, you hear several screeches in response.

“Oh, COME ON!!” You push the animal away in frustration and sprint from the clearing; you are not foolish enough to try to take on multiple beasts, as you’ve felt the damage their teeth are capable of. Walking to camp, you open a lesser healing potion and drink its contents. It won’t heal your wounds completely, but it will be enough until you can feed again, and since you’ve been gone for a couple of hours, you assume everyone will be asleep in their tents, which means no one will fuss over you.

The walk back is becoming increasingly difficult, and you find yourself stumbling, your head begins to swirl, and the world seems to be spinning. When last did you feed? Was there something in the bite of the creature? The dull flame of fire comes into vision as you quicken your pace and stumble into camp.

“Astarion?” Her voice is soft and cautious as she closes her book, shifting her attention to you.

“Oh, hello, pet. Yes. I am fine, just went for a little bite to eat. Though… I was not the one doing the biting… HAH.” You take a few wobbly steps forward and plant yourself next to her. “Enjoying a little late-night read, hmm?” You give your best smile despite feeling like you’re about to faint at any given moment.

“Yes, I told Gale I would be in later… I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to read… but… that’s not important right now. You look awful. You need to feed.” Her brow furrows in concern as she holds up her wrist to your lips.

“Darling, I appreciate the offer but-.”

Her voice cuts off your refusal as her eyes lock in with yours. “Just feed Astarion… Please.” Her features soften as she presses her wrist to your lips once more.

You delicately hold her arm as you slowly lower your head and sink your teeth in, the sweet, warm taste of her blood coats your mouth, and you groan as you drink her in. Nothing tastes as sweet as her, and nothing ever will, no one could compare to her. Your mind begins to clear, your strength slowly returns, and you begin to pull away, but her free hand weaves itself through your curls and holds you in place. Your gaze meets hers with curiosity as you raise your brow, silently questioning her.

“I said drink Astarion. I will tell you when I can’t handle it. It’s okay.” A soft smile spreads across her lips as she frees her hand from your curls and places it against your cheek.

After a few languid pulls, you feel her thumb stroke your cheek. “That’s enough now; I can’t give anymore.” Her smile never falls as you release her wrist, and as if your lips had a mind of their own, you place a soft kiss against the puncture wound and you watch her cheeks flush ever so slightly.

“Thank you, Tav.” Your voice is a whisper as you notice her hand is still on your cheek, and you bring yours up, locking her fingers with yours. “You should stay in my tent tonight; you wouldn’t want to wake Gale since you’ve stayed up so late reading.” Still holding her hand you stand up and she follows.

“I suppose it would be quite rude of me…” she purses her lips together in thought and gives a quick nod. “Okay, let’s get you to bed so you can recover.”

Once you’ve both changed, you notice she has laid out a spare bedroll on the opposite side of the tent. Nope. That just won’t do. You slowly crawl your way over and her brows rise in suspicion.

“Pet… why are you all the way over there? How am I supposed to repay you for your kindness tonight?” You lower your voice seductively as you trace your thumb along her bottom lip.

“Astarion. You don’t need to repay me. I helped you because I care. My actions are MY actions. You are not indebted to me. You don’t owe me your protection… you don’t owe me a place in your tent, and you certainly do NOT owe me your body.” She shifts out of your grasp and faces you, her brows creased with concern. “Besides, there are better things to do with someone that doesn’t involve sex.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff out, feeling slightly rejected as you inch your way back to your bedroll.

“Is that a challenge?” She raises her brow and smirks, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Alright then, lie on your back and close your eyes.”

“I thought you said no sex.” Your voice is light as you follow her orders.

“Shut up.” She scoffs. “Are your eyes closed? Good.” The warmth of her body settles beside you, and you fight the urge to open your eyes. “There are many things that are more enjoyable than sexual intimacy, for example, having someone run their fingers through your hair…” Her palm moves up your cheek until her fingers comb through your hair. With slow, long rakes, she delicately moves her hands through the waves of your curls, and a shiver runs down your spine at the gentle sensation. The storm within your mind calms and for the first time you feel the warmth of peace settle over you.

Her hand moves from your hair, and you feel the featherlight touch of the back of her hand against yours before she brings it back up to softly trace the features of your face. “The electricity from a subtle brush of hands as you pass each other in a dimly lit hallway… or a soft caress to the skin…” She shifts beside you and lightly skims her lips against yours. “Or the feel of an almost shared kiss. A promise of something to come… there is magic in the anticipation.” As she lays back down, she gently guides your head to her chest, and once again, you fight to keep your eyes shut.

“… but my favourite thing… is this. The feel of your loved one’s chest as it rises and falls with each breath, hearing the steady beat of their heart, knowing that it beats for you… and the best part? You could mix all these things together.” As you lay there on her chest, listening to the thrum of her heart and feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, she begins to run her hands through your hair again. If heaven existed… this was it, you were sure of it.

“This Astarion… this feeling is better than sex.” Her words are barely above a whisper. She was right; you have taken many people to bed, but nothing compares to this. Right here at this moment, you have never felt more secure than you do now, and you wish you could stay here forever. She was brilliant, and you would be a complete fool to let this slip through your fingers.

“Tav?” You open your eyes now and move to your side to face her.

“Yes?” She whispers back as her eyes meet yours.

“Can I try? I mean… do you want to… uhm…” You fumble your words, and your brow creases in frustration. She takes your hand and smiles sweetly, nodding only once as she rests her head on your chest, and you begin delicately combing your fingers through her hair. "When you went off that cliff earlier... I don't think I have ever been that scared, Tav." The words are hard to get out but you know it needs to be said.

"I wasn't angry about the tent..." she whispers back. "I lost the dagger you gave me. I was angry about that but... I dont know why I couldn't just say it." her head shakes subtly on your chest.

"Probably the same reason why I suggested you staying in Gale's tent... pride? Denial? Maybe both." You keep your voice low as you continue to run your fingers through her hair.

"Denial?" She asks.

"Yes... that perhaps this... perhaps we are in denial of what we mean to each other." You release a soft sigh.

She pauses a moment and you feel her breath still. "What do we mean to each other?" the words are barely above a whisper as it leaves her lips.

"I... I don't know. But its not something casual. Its a little more than that. Just promise me you wont go falling off cliffs before we can figure it out, alright?" a strained laugh escapes your mouth.

"As long as you promise to not hunt things that are clearly too big to handle." She quips back lightly.

A soft chuckle rolls through the both of you and then you are met with a comfortable silence.

It’s not long before she falls asleep on your chest with her arm draped around you, but you continue to run your hand through her hair. A warmth swells within your chest, and you realise that, for the first time in a long time, you feel alive, and you never wanted to let her go. You may have lied earlier... not to her but more to yourself. You knew what this was but you were afraid to admit it to her... you were afraid to admit it to yourself.

But as you lay there in the silence of the night while she sleeps on your chest, you bring your lips to the crown of her head and a soft confession escapes from your trembling lips:

“I could love you.”

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deoreoo · 3 months ago

Note

Mhmgngg Biograft x reader?..... where biograft accidentally kills you on a phight and basically explodes when they realized what they did... PLEASE IM SO HUNGRY I NEED MORE PLATONIC STORIES OF THEM

PERIPETEIA

Biograft x gn Reader! Platonic

No way i forgot to post this....

"SHUTDOWN (Phighter name) × Biograft!"

The poor robot stood there their bright lenses blinking trying to register what happened-

Surely that wasn't you right?....

Surely.....

.........

......

In an instant, Biograft's systems went into overdrive The once-smooth hum of its propulsion system became a frantic cacophony of whirring gears and clanking servos. When they realized it was YOU who they killed

As the core's meltdown began, the room filled with a piercing alarm, and the walls vibrated with the impending disaster

The phighters, momentarily frozen in shock, stared at Biograft with wide eyes. They watched as the sleek high-tech exterior of the machine began to fracture under the strain, bolts popping and panels warping. The cacophony grew louder, a sound that seemed to echo the chaotic scramble of the internal systems

"SYSTEM OVERHEATING. SELF DESTRUCTING IN 10....9....8..."

The tension in the room was palpable as Biograft’s lights flickered erratically, before Boombox quickly spoke up their face pale, pointed at the machine, their voice barely audible over the arena

“It’s going to blow!”

The moment they said that Hyperlaser quickly ran off- quickly dragging Skateboard mid air to go somewhere safer the latter complaining- while the others scrambled away

The realization of the imminent danger fueled their urgency as the phighters now caught in the desperate scramble to prevent a catastrophic explosion

Soon enough Biograft’s unstable core reached its critical threshold, causing a sudden cataclysmic explosion. The blast wave surged across the battlefield, engulfing everything in a fierce, disorienting torrent of fire and debris the ground trembled violently, and a scorching wave of heat seared through the combatants, throwing them into disarray as the robot exploded

Soon enough The others came back- seeing the parts of Biograft's scattered as a hole was on the ground, before Vinestaff spoke up

"Maybe its for the best they should be on the same team from now on"

As the others nodded and agreed with her.... Who knew this robot would destroy theirself when it comes to killing you...

#phighting x reader #phighting biograft #phighting biograft x reader #phighting!

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strangersteddierthings · 11 months ago

Text

My Default's Self-Destruct (Oh, I'm Not Used to Normal)

@nburkhardt, this ones for you, since you've been so excited and patient! Title from Jillian Rossi's Not Used to Normal.

There is a doctor in his room, explaining the extent of his injuries to him and his uncle but Eddie quit listening when the doctor had started with it's our recommendation that he not start back on the scent blocker until-. Whatever the doc had to say after that was more for Wayne's benefit than his own, anyway. Eddie turns his face away from Uncle Wayne and the doc and stares at the wall.

Eddie knows he's a freak.

He never had an option to be anything else.

He was born wrong, a thing his dad would remind him of every time he was deep in his cups and feeling angry or bitter. Which is to say, he'd heard it every day until he was fourteen and, with his mom long gone and his dad's new prison sentence, he was shipped off to Hawkins, Indiana to live with his uncle.

It gave him a choice for the first time in his life.

It was salvation.

No one here knew a damn thing about him except what he wanted them to know. He got to curate his image exactly how he wanted it.

Loud, bold, mean, scary.

Anything that kept people at a distance because he wanted them to be. That's not to say he didn't let people get close. That he didn't have friends. He does.

He founded Hellfire sophomore year and made acquaintances with fellow nerds and geeks. Some stuck around, genuinely seemed to like him and he them, so he got some real friends out of it. Jeff, Frankie, and Gareth.

The only three people in the world who knew about him because he'd chosen to tell them.

But now with this doctor not wanting him to get back on his scent blockers as soon as possible, the whole town's going to know how much of a freak he really is.

His gut twists thinking about how Erica, Lucas, Max, Dustin, Nancy, Robin, and Steve already know. They have to know. Why else are they not here? There's no way they don't by now. Scent blockers need to be taken every day to work effectively. Missing a day every now and then is fine when Eddie knows he's not going to leave home or if it's just the guys he'd be seeing.

But he's missed sixteen days because today is April 7th, and he'd spent most of the prior three days fading in and out of consciousness trying to claw his way out of a coma. Now he's fully alert and aware. He'd woken up alone, but it wasn't long after that his uncle showed up, apparently summoned by a nurse.

"-ddie. Eddie, you still awake?" Wayne's voice is gentle in a way it never usually it. It makes Eddie want to pretend to be asleep.

"Yeah."

"The doc just left."

Eddie doesn't respond verbally. but he does turn his head back to look at Wayne instead of the wall.

"There's a boy down in the lobby. Been tryin' ta visit every day but, well," Wayne trails off with a one shoulder shrug, which seems the easier way to sum up all the events that place while he was in a coma. Wayne apparently making a fuss when the hospital finally got a hold of him and he'd come into Eddie's room to find his unconscious body handcuffed to the bed. No one's been around to explain the how or why to Eddie, but supposedly ten days after Eddie should have died, three days before he awoke for the first time, the "real" murderer was found and died in a gunfight with the police. Eddie's been pardoned, by some miracle.

"Why wasn't he allowed to visit?" Eddie asks, even as he dreads the answer.

"No visitor for murder suspects except family," Wayne says.

"Okay. But I was proven innocent six days ago."

"I know. This last week's been me. I told the staff no one but me could see ya until ya were awake enough to name 'em. Didn't know if that boy who led the manhunt was gonna try and get in, or send someone else after ya."

Warmth floods through Eddie then, both affection for his uncle and a hope that, maybe, no one's been here because they haven't been allowed to be. Maybe they don't- maybe they'll give him a chance even though he's a genetic freak of nature.

"Is it Dustin Henderson?"

"Nah, ain't him. He's been by as much as his ma will allow, though. Sits down there with the first boy."

If it's not Dustin then- "Steve?"

Wayne gives a one-sided grin before saying, "Steve Harrington Sir, if you wanna full name him."

That gets a laugh from Eddie. Wayne hates to be called sir, and he spent a full year calling Jeff 'Just Jeff Sir' when Jeff had made the mistake of correcting Eddie's introduction ("And this here, is Jeffery") while trying to be polite ("Please, it's just Jeff, sir."). Seems like Steve made the same mistake.

"Oh, fuck, don't make me laugh," Eddie wheezes, more from pain than laughter and Wayne looks only a little guilty for causing him pain. "But, uh, yeah. Steve's a-okay."

"Alright. I'll go let the nurse know. Anyone else you wan' ta come see ya?"

"Wait," Eddie says quickly, swallowing thickly. He has to know. "Do- have they... said anything? About me?"

"About you? What- oh," Wayne says. "Did they not know?"

Eddie shakes his head. "No. Not- I didn't tell them, but I haven't had a scent blocker since the first day of spring break. They have to know, right? Everyone always knows."

"Do you want me to ask before gettin' them approved to visit?" Wayne asks, softly and sincere and it makes Eddie's eyes water. He closes them to prevent the tears.

"No. It's fine. Better to, uhh, get this over with. Learn if this will change anything, y'know?"

"And you wanna start with Steve Harrington Sir? He's an alpha, ain't he?"

"Don't act like you don't already know. Everyone and their mother talks about how alpha he smells. I heard about Steve and his alpha scent before I'd even met the dude."

"Well, no need to be so uppity about it," Wayne grouses.

"Sorry. Guess I'm just... not in the mood to joke about this. People don't- they change how they treat me, once they know."

"Just Jeff didn't, nor Gareth or Frankie."

"Yeah, but they were my friends first. I- they saved my life but that doesn't make us friends."

Wayne shakes his head. "You tell that to the boy sittin' in the lobby right now waitin' to see ya."

That's right. The hope that has bloomed earlier. If they did know, they were still around. Either because they are his friends and they care, or they have... questions, possibly. Still, "You'll be in here? When he comes in?"

"I won't leave unless you ask me to," Wayne assures and then he's gone. Out the door, to retrieve Steve.

Jesus Christ, this is fucked. Eddie feels so anxious and scared and he shouldn't. He's never been afraid before. Just. Fed up with how people treat him. How they scrunch their noses when they smell him. When they look at the whole of him and realize there's something wrong with him and their expression changes to either pity or disgust.

Wayne's gone just long enough for Eddie to regret his decision but then it's too late. The first person to enter his room is Steve, followed closely why Wayne.

"Eddie!" Steve says, and Eddie is confused. Steve sounds... awed? A bit breathless like he's witnessed a miracle.

"Hey Steve," Eddie manages to squeak out and that's all the permission Steve seems to need. He crosses the room quickly, dragging a second chair from the corner with him to the opposite side of the bed from where Wayne has taken up station.

"Fuck, Eddie, we didn't know if you'd- but you did. You're awake," Steve says, even as he's trying to sniff the air. Probably trying to get a read on Eddie's own scent, and therefore his own emotional state. When Steve doesn't find what he's looking for, his brows furrow into confusion, and he looks so fucking adorable with his face scrunched like that. He's glad Steve can't smell that on him, at least.

"I'm awake," Eddie says.

Steve nods, but his confused face doesn't fade. Instead he sniffs the room more loudly, thoroughly. He looks to Wayne, then back to Eddie. He does that a few times before settling on Eddie.

Eddie sighs heavily. "Go ahead. Ask."

"What? Oh, uh, nothing to ask, I guess. Just thought Wayne would have scented you by now, but I don't smell him on you."

"Yeah. Wayne's nose barely works, so no point in that."

"A fact I'm thankful for every time you'd finally drag out the days old dishes from your room," Wayne quips.

"Hey!" Eddie shoots him a wounded look as his face gets hot. Low blow, old man, he thinks.

"Oh. Do you... not get isolation sickness? Is that rude to ask?" Steve asks.

"I don't get isolation sickness anymore, not since long before you were even born," Wayne answers. He's still hovering by the door, expecting to be dismissed by Eddie probably, since Steve's not- since Steve doesn't seem to- Eddie doesn't know. Is he too nice to ask out right? Too disturbed by it to even bring it up?

"And, uh, isolation sickness could never effect me," Eddie says, biting the bullet, looking at a wrinkle on his blanket instead of at Steve.

"What?" Steve sounds startled by the answer, as if he can't understand. Maybe he doesn't.

"I can't get isolation sickness."

"That doesn't- everyone but childr-" Steve cuts himself off, and Eddie hears more sniffing before his startled by Steve grabbing his arm. He looks up quickly, and sees Wayne move closer from the corner of his eye, as Steve shoves his nose into Eddie's wrist and takes a deep breath. A sound between a whimper and a whine comes from Steve. "But you- What?"

"Steve."

"Eddie, I don't understand?"

Eddie looks to Wayne, who raises his brows as if to ask want me to tell him? He almost nods, but this is going to be the first of many conversations, and he might as well get the practice in. "Steve. You can only get isolation sickness after your secondary gender develops. I can't. 'Cause I don't have a secondary gender."

Steve blinks at him. Then blinks some more. He opens his mouth, then closes it and blinks even more. "I- how- what? It hasn't developed yet?"

Eddie groans in frustration. "No, Steve. It won't develop ever. I don't have one, I won't have one! No scent gland will ever grow, no second puberty as my body changes to be able to send and receive emotional signals, no bonding gland to establish pack or mate!"

"Wha-"

"Don't! What aren't you getting? I'm a genetic fucking freak of nature who can't ever bond with pack or a mate because I don't have a secondary gender!"

Steve jerks back at Eddie's sudden outburst, "Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't- I wasn't trying to, uhh, offend."

Eddie scoffs and looks away. He wants to roll onto his side, put his back to Steve and block him out. Offend. Eddie's not offended. He's- fuck, he's sad and scared and angry. Because he spent a week flirting freely with Steve, who'd started to flirt back and now it's all back to just being a fantasy in Eddie's mind.

Steve's an alpha. Even if... even if he ever might have entertained the idea of being with Eddie, that's going to be gone now. Alpha's want omega's. They'll settle for a beta, sure, but that's what it is. Settling.

And Eddie's not even that.

He's nothing. No secondary gender, no place in society, he'll always smell like a goddamn child to everyone else. He knows how this goes. Until he's back on the scent blockers, which just make him smell like chemicals, they're going to treat him like a child, or like a pariah.

"Eddie-" Steve says, quiet.

Whatever it is, Eddie doesn't want to hear it. "I'm tired. I hurt. Please leave."

Eddie stares at a spot on the wall as Wayne escorts Steve from his room. He doesn't let himself cry until after counting to thirty in his head once the door's closed.

@i-less-than-three-you @afewproblems @skepsiss

#steddie #my fic #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #what did you think was up with eddie before the reveal?? id like to know #alpha steve harrington #beta wayne munson #????? eddie munson

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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69 + eddie munson

that number is just so fitting for eddie lmao. we love to see it. (also, are we even surprised taylor is all over my damn wrapped?)

#69: "MIDNIGHT RAIN" BY TAYLOR SWIFT (EDDIE MUNSON)

"he was sunshine, i was midnight rain."

warnings: serious thoughts of self-doubt and self-deprecation, angst?, hurt/comfort (this one ends happier i SWEAR)

wc: 3k+

There was more to Eddie Munson than what meets the eye.

An entire town, somehow, had gotten it through their heads that the boy who lit up your days was something dark. A storm cloud, a hellraiser, a Satan-worshiper, a tornado of the utmost destruction – every nasty synonym they could roll off their tongues, they would spit at him. He was violent rain, he was uneasy nights, he was howling winds. They looked at him like an overcast for their sweet summer days, and they couldn’t be further from the truth.

There was nothing violent nor stormy about the boy currently curled beneath bed sheets with you. Something soft and to be held – and that’s exactly what you did as the night swallows the two of you whole. You held him. His soft breaths ruffled the material of your shirt against your stomach, his curls tickling all the way up to your chest as a hand mindlessly twists at the end of a few stray strands.

The clock on the nightstand blinks with a time far too late for you to be up, but you can’t help it. You’d woken up a few hours ago, and begged sleep to return to you, but it simply wouldn’t. Eddie had even roused at some point, twisting and noticing you awake in his half-dazed state, but his supportive state had been plagued by drowsiness, and the beckoning of his dreams won the war in the end. You didn’t mind it – it was nice to lay like this, the weight of his head on your torso and to feel his steady breathing rather than being left alone to your own thoughts.

This town assumed Eddie was the terrible storm, but you knew better.

He was the farthest thing from a storm possible. Even amongst his chaos, even amongst his wild demeanor, he still managed to embody the sun at the end of the day in your eyes. Warm, sought after, calming, relaxing. Bright and brilliant as ever. Those chestnut ringlets, those honeyed doe eyes – how anyone saw so much as a strike of lightning in them was beyond you. You were the one carrying storm clouds. You were the one with heavy forecasts, downpours that slaughtered in the dead of night.

It was the thunder in your head that was keeping you awake. Not his, never his.

“R’you still up?” he mumbles, nearly scaring you. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d awoken again, too busy staring at the ceiling as you watched shadows of the current rain trailing down the window reflected on the walls.

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking down, moving your fingertips from the ends of his hair to his scalp before scratching in small circles, “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Can’t-” he starts to mutter, cutting off in a yawn as he twists so that his face is no longer buried in your chest, eyes still pinched shut for a moment before he can continue his thought, “Can’t sleep if I know you’re up. What’s bothering you?”

Endless things. Your chest was coiled in terrible knots, strangling you on repeat with each second passing as you had been left alone with your thoughts. Haunted by every echoing step you had taken the last few days, taunted by every word you hadn’t said.

Just how many mistakes had you made in the last twenty four hours alone? And how had they still, somehow, led you home to him? What had you done to be deserving of him?

“Just the storm,” you lie easily, keeping a soft tone, still trying to beckon him back to sleep. As if on cue, a distant roll of thunder can be heard following a brisk flare of light through the window pane.

But his wide eyes only blink up at you, clearly awake now, “‘s that all?”

His words are still slurring together a bit, but as he lifts his weight off of you, you know there’s no coaxing him back into rest. There’s no facing the storm alone tonight – and not the one that currently pelts the outside of the house.

You can’t look him in his eyes. You’re terrified for him to see the rolling waves of nimbus formations behind your own.

“Yeah, that’s all,” you say, patting your chest, trying to change the topic, “C’mere. Lay back down, there’s no use for us both to be tired tomorrow.”

He sits up fully, your hands falling from his scalp, out of reach as he balances on his knees with a face of newfound determination, “I’m not letting you just lay here awake while I use you as my own personal drool catch. I know there’s something more than the storm bothering you.”

Damn him. And damn his attentiveness.

Even with the moonlight illuminating him, he emits his own specific shine that gleams golden through the dark room, striking you right in your heart. Your boy made of sunshine and kindness, good intentions and a pure heart.

Your sun.

“It’s stupid,” you start, picking at the threads of the comforter as he settles to lay comfortably beside you. In an instant, the positions are switched, and he’s pulling you to lay on his chest, “I just… It can all get a bit loud, you know?”

It’s not about the people in the town who talk. Not an ounce of their gossip can really get to you, hardly scratching at your skin. At most, they only leave their mark when they talk badly of Eddie. And even then, you know your truth.

“We’re the talk of the town again, huh?” Eddie chuckles, fingertips grazing at the small bit of the nape of your neck that’s exposed from beneath the neck of your shirt. Lazy circles, wobbling triangles, hardly-distinguishable squares. All mindless shapes that he’s probably unaware of painting over your skin, and they send shivers down your spine all the same.

It’s not the people in the town who are loud.

It’s that voice in your head, the whisper that he’s too good for this. There is something simply so inherently good about the boy that lays beneath you. Something so golden, so warming that it aches and nearly stifles you. He deserves more. He deserves someone who can offer him the world, not someone who will never manage more than rotting away with the worms below the dirt.

“Why did you choose me?” you blurt out before you can think better of it.

The storm outside the window picks up in pace, raindrops racing faster down the glass. You try and pick one to follow in particular, but they all disappear quicker than they appear to begin with.

“What do you mean?”

You can’t make sense of it, the way he loves you. As if he doesn’t see the storm always on the horizon, as if he can’t feel the sharp pain that resides permanently within your chest. A pain you were born with, a pain you’ll surely die with. The nasty thing that pangs every time you grow too comfortably, that screams for you to run when things get too good.

You just don’t get it.

“Everyone is always asking me why I’m with you,” you wish you could choose your words more carefully, but you can’t. They only come tumbling out, an avalanche of honesty over the crack of thunder that sounds, “Saying things like how I’m so nice, how you’re so… so… not. And I just don’t get it, because you are. You’re… everything, Eddie. You’re the sun incarnate, so good and so nice at your core. And they never have time for me to wax poetic, to go on and on about just how good you are. They always act like you’re the impending doom, and I’m always in danger, when it should be the other way around.”

His slow motions on the base of your neck pause, “I’m not sure I’m following along, sweetheart.”

You lift your head, look up at those eyes that could hold an entire Universe inside of them. The kind that do when the sun’s rays hit them just right in the daytime. He is everything. Every star, every first bloom of spring, every fresh breath of air.

And you aren’t.

You’re built off of late nights and terrible troubles. Of racing thoughts and sweaty palms, and a mouth that always fumbles with its words. Something unhinged and something unattractive at its core. It’s not the outside so much, not that you don’t feel pretty enough for him, but the inside. That inner natural disaster waiting to happen. A tsunami of forces waiting to engulf you both, drown him right along with you.

You want to run because you want to save him from that fate. You can’t save yourself, but you could save him.

“I’m the storm, the unpredictable and violent one,” you choke out, placing a flat palm on his chest, “You’re… not. They think you are, but you aren’t. You deserve better than to sit around with me, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and for my torrential downpour to start. You don’t deserve to sit in the rain with someone who isn’t worth it.”

How many breakdowns had he already bore witness to? How many late nights had he already sacrificed his rest to spend talking you through a spiral? How many times had he given up all that he deserved, just to sit in the rain with you?

“Quite the metaphor you’ve got going there,” he laughs under his breath, but all the joking fades when he sees that disaster-torn look cross your face, “Have I ever told you how when I was younger, and it would rain, I’d insist on sleeping with the window open?”

Your brows furrow, “What does that have to do with-”

“You have your wild metaphors, let me have mine,” he interrupts, sitting up a bit, leaning forward until your forehead nearly bumps against his, “Wayne hated it. It would get everything soaked – the curtains, the carpet, my desk – and it would run up his electric bill. Said he’d always come into my room in the morning to find me shivering under the covers, and have to run up the heater to stop my teeth from chattering. The old man never lets me forget, either,” he pauses, and brings a gentle, warm palm up to your cheek, “But even after countless lectures, you know what changed? Nothing. Every day, whenever I saw the clouds or smelled the rain coming, I still got so damn excited. I still ran home to open up my window, and I smiled like a fool the entire fucking time. It only drove Wayne more insane.”

“Okay?” you question, peering into his eyes, still not following, “So, you love rain. Are you trying to say you want to open the window right now? Or-”

“You’re so close to getting it,” he chuckles, closing the distance between the two of you, shutting you up with a brush of his lips against yours.

“Getting what?” you mumble into his mouth, frowning a bit as he pulls back and his lips hover.

That palm holds you steady, keeping you close as his other hand wanders to your hip, giving a soft squeeze to the tender flesh, “I love rain.”

He loves rain.

Your mind twists and gravels, tries to make sense of it when you’re still so consumed by him. The brush of his lips against yours as he whispers. The caress of his breath over your cheek, still minty from when the two of you had brushed your teeth together before bed. The warmth seeping out of his skin against yours, warming you even as the storm wages on. The smell of his sheets mingling with the damp air fighting through the vents from outside.

He loves rain.

It clicks.

“You love rain,” you say carefully, eyes fluttering open to find him already looking at you.

He nods, forehead finally bumping yours. “I fucking love rain. Always have, always will.”

The storm within your head that had been raging for hours, that had kept you up as your sunshine had slept soundly, goes still as night. It all stops – the wind, the thunder, the downpour. Every single thought halts in its tracks as you look at a boy who’s watching you with such adoration, with such promise of offering up the entire world if you asked. You have his heart in your hands, and he’s well aware you could destroy it at a moment’s notice, but he trusts you.

He loves you.

“Now, come here,” he insists, scooting back on the bed until his back is flush to the wall and his arms are wide open for you to crawl into. You don’t deny him. Slowly, you make your way to his chest, letting your ear press against his skin and listen to the steady and sure rhythm of his heart as his arms wrap around you, “We don’t have to go back to bed, but you do have to let me be here for you. Let me just sit with you in the rain, with the window wide open, yeah? Your storm can get the curtains wet, you can freeze me out – I don’t care. I like the storm… I love the storm,” he whispers as you settle against him. You finally glance at his old alarm clock, the one Wayne had bought him back in sophomore year when he’d insisted he was tired of waking the boy up every morning. Those blinking numbers read 12:43 just as his lips press to your temple, “I love you.”

Such a quiet declaration. Full of meaning, full of intent. The only rain still pounding away is the one outside of the trailer, sounding off in a tinkling tune of water against metal slates. It’s almost melodic as you feel his exhale against your hairline.

“I love you too, y’know?” you whisper right back, a hand coming up to curl around his wrist as he places his hand on your shoulder. It’s not enough to just hear his heartbeat; you need to feel the pulse beneath his skin, thumb digging in helplessly as you focus on just him and his rays of light as your clouds begin to break, “I’m sorry if I’m hard to love, or dramatic sometimes-”

“Never,” he cuts you off, “You’re never hard to love, sweetheart. Not for me.”

No more words are needed as the seconds pass and the two of you stay like that. You, counting every beat of his heart. And him, still bleeding sunshine even in the black of night. Messy crown of curls, a smile that never quite leaves his lips. It’s impossible to wrap your head around – the boy who could light up even the darkest of rooms, who glows even at midnight, loves the rain in a way you never thought possible. Loves your rain specifically, and all the storms you always fear and battle with through every sleepless night. It doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Are you ever going to get tired of me?” you ask, more out of curiosity than insecurity now as your fingers fall to trace over one of the tattoos inked into the skin of his chest, “I mean, I know you say you love rain now, but people can change. Hell, even I’m changing constantly. No two storms are ever exactly the same, or whatever the fuck they say.”

“Do they say that?” he murmurs. You can hear the sleep returning to him, drawing him under, “To answer your question, no. I don’t think I will ever get tired of you. Change all you want. I’m just happy to be here.”

You smile, and you know he feels it as he squeezes you a bit tighter, “What if I decide to shave my head tomorrow? Or dye my hair the ugliest shade of neon yellow I can find? Or tattoo my entire face?”

“If you dye your hair neon, can you dye one of my strands to match?” you snort at his response, tilting your chin to catch him looking at you with a playful smile, “And I’ll still love you if you’re bald. As a matter of fact, I think I can see a bald spot already forming on the back of your head, so…”

Your hand flies up to your hair, feeling for what he’s talking about as he descends into cackles. Head fully thrown back and eyes tightly screwed shut.

God, he’s beautiful. Too beautiful for you to even get genuinely upset with his teasing.

“Fuck you,” you say as you realize he’s joking, forcing a faux pout and throwing your head back down onto his chest hard enough to make him emit a small oof, “If either of us are going bald, it’s you.”

He gasps, still dramatic even as he’s half-asleep, “How dare you. I was even going to offer up some of my luscious locks to make you a wig if you needed it.”

“You don’t have long enough hair for that.”

“Yet,” he insists as your eyelids grow a little heavier, “I’ll just keep growing it out. You know, in case you need it, even though you were so mean to me.”

Your body sinks deeper into him, as if you could bury you both into the safety of this mattress for the rest of your days.

“I hate you,” you lie, half playful as the thunder outside the trailer becomes nothing more than a lullaby.

He slips down further into the comforter, resting his head on his pillow rather than the uncomfortable wall as he holds you tight to him, “I love you, too, my little rainstorm.”

You don’t even have a quick defense against his teasing nickname as sleep takes hold of you. You’re already far gone, eyes shut and mind slipping away as he kisses the top of your head before joining you.

Storms are easier with Eddie. Window open and all.

#ghost's tunes 2023 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #but also #eddie munson fluff #i want someone to love me the way i write eddie lmaooooo #i could have gone SO VERY SAD with this one but I DIDN'T and for that i am so brave

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l0vergirlv0mit · 1 year ago

Text

Before Today

Inspired by: Before Today by Everything But The Girl

Pairing: college!Hazel Callahan X reader

Summary: You just can’t get over your ex and frequently confide in your best friend Isabel. This leads her to pulls some strings to try and make her best friend happy again…

Warnings: 18+ mdni, kinda toxic!reader (if you squint), breaking up, fingering, oral r!reciving,

Authors notes: first time writing so it prob sucks. It was super fun to write though. Thanks for reading <3

3 months. That’s how long it’s been since the start of you and Hazels no contact agreement. You decided you couldn’t be her friend after your break up. You couldn’t stomach the idea of being her friend and watching her give her attention to another girl. You wanted the feelings to go away but they never did.

But now you stare at your phone feeling your whole body go numb with fear. Your finger lingers over the unblock button.

You still haven’t been able to get over the way her hands felt when she’d hold your face and call you pretty. The way her laugh rang in your ears when you made a joke sending a wave of pride to your chest .The way her lips felt on your neck, whispering how much she wanted you.

You had to set your phone down to slow your breathing, your eyes filled with tears. Thinking back to when it all fell apart. It was completely your fault.

You couldn’t stop the self destructive chain of events that night. You had a fight that completely blew up in your face. You were looking for a fight wanting to give reason to the emotions you were feeling. You had been upset over reason outside of your relationship and just couldn’t let yourself be happy.

—

“Are you seriously bringing this up again.” Hazel looked at you with no expression she was tired, very tired, leaned over the counter with her face in her hands. “Well yeah I mean you flirted with her in front of my fucking face HAZEL. Like am I just supposed to get over that.” Your tone full of venom. “I told you a million fucking times I wasn’t flirting with her I was ACTUALLY politely telling her I have a girlfriend. So yeah get the fuck over it.” She replies your eyebrows furrow. “Ohhh yeah that’s why you we’re laughing at everything she said, should’ve twirled your hair and kicked your feet while you were at it.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up walking over to you. She got within a couple inches of your face looking down at you slightly. “What’s your goal here huh?” She spoke in a soft deep voice. “Is this your fucked up way of pushing me away? You don’t wanna be with me?” She bumps your chest with her finger and it makes you unbelievably angry.

“Maybe I don’t.” You didn’t even mean it but it was too late to take it back. Without another word she picked up her jacket she left on your settee and ran out of the door. Slamming it so hard the wall shook.

—

You had met up to talk about the fight the day after it had happened deciding it was best to put the relationship on “pause”. Trying to keep it as civil as possible given your mutual friends and inability to hate her.

You had heard about her going out with girl after girl from Isabel. You knew it was her way to fill the void you tried doing the same at the start but got to frustrated deciding on studying 24/7 instead.

Josie and Isabel were you and Hazels informants for each other without either of you knowing. Giving you unsolicited updates when either of you had called in tears over how much you missed one another.

The thought of her going out with so many different girls got to you even when Isabel would call the girls ugly to make you feel better. It especially hurt when you found yourself scrolling through the folder of photos you kept of dates and pictures of her. You couldn’t bring yourself to delete it. Pictures of her trying to stop smiling long enough to kiss you. Those destroyed you.

You pick your phone up again and unblock her turning your brain off for as long as you can. You noticed she didn’t have you blocked and you followed her again. Trying to do these actions as fast as possible to not let the anxiety strangle you. Letting out the biggest exhale you could you turn your phone off and go to bed.

————————————————————————

Hazel had followed you back by the next morning but nothing else came of it. Of course this had you ecstatic but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully make contact. A week later Isabel had invited you out to a party with full knowledge that Hazel was going to be there.

“Y/n what are you gonna wear to the party tomorrow?” She texted you. You sent her a photo of a tiny black skirt, a band tee shirt you had cut into a tank top, and your black boots. “Yeah that’ll work.” Is all she said back. You sent “???” But she never replied.

You got ready for the party putting your 90’s smokey eye on and styling your hair to perfection. You put on your most expensive perfume. Staring at yourself in your full length mirror admiring yourself in the new set you bought from Victoria secret it was lacy and red. You were determined to get laid tonight. Finishing getting dressed in clothes that didn’t give you much more coverage than the set did you hear a “ding” from your phone,

Isabel: here

Josie and Isabel pulled up to your place. You came down the stairs of your apartment complex. And basically hop over to the car. “Hey hot stuff.” Josie said wiggling her eyebrow talking to you through the open window. “Yeah just so you know we’re looking for a third.” Isabel joked looking you up and down. You giggle and slide into the back seat. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” You give both girls a kiss on there cheeks. “You guys are gonna be the hottest couple at this party.” Josie and Isabel give each other a look you couldn’t quite understand. “Doubt it.” Is all Josie said before driving. Isabel smiled at this remark confusing you.

The 3 of you had gotten out of the car walking up to the frat house the party was at. “I��m so happy you agreed to go out with us tonight.” Isabel beams at you. “Yeah all you do is study y/n you better go crazy tonight.” Josie says looking at you slyly. You laugh as you reach the front door.

You all walk inside and see PJ and Britney talking in a corner. Josie walks up to them first “Heyyyy PJ you wanna get a drink with me?” Josie takes the poor girl over to the bar. You and Isabel then go to join Britney. “Her dedication is impressive honestly.” You say to Britney and she nods her head. “Oh very impressive.” She replied taking a big sip out of her red solo cup. You look over to the bar area and do a double take.

PJ and Josie are deep in conversation with Hazel. You feel all the confidence you had drain from your body. Hazel feels your eyes on her and makes eye contact with you. You look away quickly feeling very naked in your tank top and too tiny skirt. Hazel can’t help but stare at you. The way your outfit was hugging you in the just the right places and your hair framing your face so perfectly. It made her unbelievably needy.

You wait till they leave the bar and go outside by the pool to go get yourself a drink. You feel hazels glances until they’re completely outside. You down 2 shots back to back immediately and smile coyly at a worried looking Isabel, she’s starting to regret her decision to play parent trap.

—

“Go talk to them.” Josie spoke softly to Hazel “I can’t I mean what would I even say.” Hazel huffs as she swirled her vodka strawberry lemonade around staring at it like it would turn into a portal and take her anywhere but here. “Oh I don’t know Hazel! Maybe “I miss you so much y/n that I cried during not 1 but 3 hook ups.”” Hazel just stared at Josie with her mouth open hoping no one was over hearing their conversation. “Ok I’m sorry-“ Josie started but Hazel threw her cup down and started walking furiously into the house to find you. Josie laughed in surprise that that actually worked.

You were still at the bar making yourself the strongest cocktail known to man. When you feel someone’s presence to the side of you looking up casually with a smile already feeling tipsy. Your eyes grow wide and smile falls realizing who was in front of you. “Oh.” You felt like a fucking bumbling idiot. She looked amazing her hair slightly pushed out of her face. She had on baggy jeans, a cropped green plaid button up, and adidas. The way her small chains rest at the base of her neck makes your heart skip.

“Hey h-how have you been.” Hazel asks rubbing the back of her neck looking you up and down mindlessly. “I’ve been good h-how have you been.” You try to keep it together even though you feel your heart sinking even deeper into your chest. “I miss you… like a lot.” She couldn’t keep it in anymore. She gives you a desperate look. It nearly takes your breath away you stare at her in disbelief. She looked like a sick puppy. “Can we go somewhere more private please?” She pleaded and you nod, she takes your hand hesitantly and leads you upstairs to an empty room.

Josie and Isabel watched you disappear to the second floor “let’s fucking go.” Josie says and they high five each other.

Hazel closed the door behind you and locked it. You turn to face her, looking each other in the eyes deeply. She rubs her sweaty hands on her pants and goes past you to sit on the bed. You go to sit next to her. “You look beautiful.” She spoke softly trying to be as un intimidating as possible. “So do you.” You both stare at each other not knowing what else to say.

“I miss you so much Hazel, it hurts.” You finally huffed and pouted starting to feel embarrassed at the familiar burn you were getting in your throat. Your eyes becoming glazed and heavy. Trying your best not to let out 3 months of self hatred and sadness. You looked down at nothing feeling defeated.

Hazel broke, grabbing your face with both hands to meet your eyes again then pulled you into a heated urgent kiss. It turned into a frenzied make out. Both pair of hands grasping and pulling and caressing. She pulled away just enough to whisper. “Fuck I missed you so much.” Then her lips were on you again. You grab at her shoulders grounding yourself. She pulls back once more. “I missed your lips-” You grab her by the collar not able to contain how needy you are for her. “nn-h!” you swing your leg over her lap to straddle her. Her hands strongly grip your hips just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

You grip onto her hair tugging her back, eyes flicking over her blushed face. You start kissing her neck feverishly. Her breathing picks up and her exhales are heavy. “You feel so good y/n.” You go to unbutton her shirt but Hazel flips you onto your back. She grabs your wrist pinning you and bring her knee against your heat. You let out a high pitched whimper.

Your skirt rides up revealing your red lace thong. Hazel takes notice her face becoming more dark and focused. “These are new.” She presses her thumb to your clothed clit. This elicits a breathless moan not expecting her actions.

Your face turns a deep shade of red when she starts kneeling between your legs. She leaves a trail of kisses starting at the top of your knee. Your fingers running through her hair making her hum into your softly skin. Hazel makes her way to your inner thigh kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin.

She sucks hard released the plush skin with a pop, leaving behind a burgundy bruise. She peeks at you through her lashes, the sight forever burned in her mind. Your mouth slightly open, eyes half lided and chest heaving it’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

She focuses again nudging your clothed clit with her nose. You grip her hair harder to encourage her, and that was all she needed. She pushed your panties to the side and licked a long stripe up your cunt. You got shivers all over your body. She devours you like she’s never taste anything so good in her life. You contract around nothing as her finger ghost up and down your slit teasing you to no end.

“M-more please Hazel?” You practically beg her “Of course baby.” She comes up to smile at you and ads 2 fingers into your hole hitting just the right spot to make your eyes roll back, just like she used to do.

“Oh baby likes that huh.” She smiles to herself then goes back to abusing your clit with her mouth. Hazel used her other hand to pull your shirt up for her own pleasure and palmed your tits. Your lacy red bra excited her even more than she already was.

You felt your orgasm creeping, getting frustrated it was so soon you wanted this to last forever. “Hazel I’m gonna- ‘m s-so close Hazel.” Shes kept her brutal pace till your back arched and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “That’s it pretty girl just like that. So pretty so fucking pretty.” Hazel mumbles softly to you bringing you through your orgasm. Body shaking until you rode your high to completion.

“I missed this.” You say with a giggle steadying your breath. Hazel pulls your panties back into place and lays next to you. She grabs your face and pulls you into a slow deep kiss. “Not as much as me.” Her wide smile tells you all you need to know. Resting her hand on your face she takes in your features. She uses her thumb to wipe some of your smudged lipstick. “You wanna go back to mine?” You ask her shyly. Then laughing when you notice her equally smudged lips. “I would want nothing more.” Hazel gets up and offers you her hand helping you up.

You both walk down stairs hand and hand. Josie, Isabel, PJ and Britney have been absolutely losing it for the 15 minutes you were away. “Oh my god.” Is all Britney said see the both of you holding hands all of them turned to gawk at you.

Hazel makes a detour to the bar grabbing 2 beers with one hand for when you get back to your apartment. She had you lipstick smudged on her face and neck wearing it like a trophy. Hazel nods at the group then opens the door for you. You give Isabel and Josie a wave, grinning ear to ear, you walk out of the house with your hair a complete mess in the back. They can’t help but to laugh at the display of shamelessness.

It was going to be a very long night.

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #isabel bottoms #josie bottoms

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